The night was cloaked in silence when Zamora returned to the human world. Of course, she had to slip away without Dante's knowledge. Her destination: her aunt's house—the one she had left behind so many years ago.
The place had changed.
She stood there, staring at the light blue house for a long time. In the past, her aunt would usually be sitting at the neighbor's porch around this hour. But now... there was no sign of the middle-aged woman anywhere.
"Excuse me, miss... Who are you?" asked a voice that jolted Zamora from her thoughts.
Startled, she turned around—and found Maggie standing behind her, holding a little girl by the hand. Even with the passage of time, Zamora could still recognize her cousin. She hadn't changed much, at least not through Zamora's succubus eyes.
Zamora gazed at her for a moment longer. Despite the cruelty she had once endured from both her aunt and cousin, she felt an unexpected sting behind her eyes. She had almost forgotten what it was like to see them this way—in the realm of the living.
"Are you looking for someone?" Maggie asked again, breaking Zamora's trance.
"Ah! No. Don't you recognize me?" Zamora replied hesitantly.
Maggie shook her head, eyeing Zamora's appearance—so drastically different from the girl who had once lived here. Her cousin had no idea who she was.
"Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to confuse you. I'm a friend of Zamora's. Is she home?" Zamora asked gently.
"She's not here. That girl ran away a long time ago. Always so troublesome," Maggie muttered, frowning.
Zamora smiled faintly. A single tear rolled down her cheek before she quickly wiped it away.
"I see... And your mother, Merry? Is she home?"
"She's inside. Do you want to come in? I'll call her," Maggie offered, stepping through the gate. Zamora followed in silence.
"You wait here, okay? I'm going to call Grandma," Maggie said, setting the little girl down on a bench near the entrance. She glanced at Zamora again. "Just a minute."
"Alright."
"Mom!" Maggie shouted into the house. Her shrill voice was exactly as Zamora remembered. She smiled again.
She turned to the little girl beside her—only to find the child staring at her without blinking. Zamora returned the gaze with a soft smile.
"Sweet girl, why are you staring at me like that?" she asked kindly.
"You're very beautiful," the girl replied shyly.
"Oh, am I?" Zamora chuckled. "Thank you for the compliment. You're very pretty too. What's your name?"
"Luna," the little girl answered.
Zamora's smile faded. That name…
"My mom said... Aunt Zamora once told her, 'If you ever have a daughter, please name her Luna,'" the child added.
Zamora was speechless. Beneath all of Maggie's coldness, she had remembered.
"Where is the beautiful lady?" came a familiar voice from inside the house.
A moment later, Aunt Merry stepped into view and froze when she saw Zamora sitting there.
"My goodness... You're absolutely stunning," the woman gasped, then glanced toward the door. "Alright, Mag, for once you weren't lying," she said, still staring at Zamora.
Zamora wanted to hug her aunt. But it would've felt strange. Merry had grown older, but her sharp tongue was clearly intact.
"Are you here looking for Zamora?" the aunt asked.
"Unfortunately, she's not home. It's been years since she left," she added, and Zamora nearly gaped.
Seven years? That couldn't be. It felt like she'd only spent a short while in the demon realm.
"Where did she go?" Zamora asked, forcing the words out.
"No one knows. Some say she was taken by an Incubus. She said she was going to look for a Sharon flower... but never came back," Merry explained, her tone somber.
"Are you... sad?" Zamora wondered silently.
"If it's true she was taken by an Incubus, I just hope she's alright," her aunt said again.
I'm fine, Auntie. Don't worry. The Incubus who took me loves me—and we have a son, Zamora whispered in her mind.
"You must be thirsty. Maggie, make her something to drink," said Aunt Merry before disappearing into the house.
---
"Did you enjoy yourself, darling?" Dante's voice echoed in the darkness as Zamora approached the castle gates.
"D-Dante? How long have you—?"
"I knew my wife had returned," he said calmly, pointing to the glowing sigil on her neck. "The charm I placed hasn't faded, sweetheart."
Zamora sighed in defeat. She had tried her best to leave unnoticed—but of course, Dante had eyes everywhere.
"How are your aunt and cousin?" he asked, his tone neutral.
"They're doing well."
"They didn't recognize you?"
"Not at all. I had to pretend I was someone else," Zamora replied, a little disheartened.
"Did that make you sad?"
"I was sad when I realized they missed me. I thought they hated me all this time. And Maggie... she has a daughter now. A beautiful little girl, maybe five years old. She named her Luna. A name I once told her I liked..." Zamora's smile faltered.
"You can visit them whenever you wish. But only at night. Don't let other humans grow suspicious," Dante said, granting her permission.
She nodded.
"Why are you still awake?" she asked softly.
"How could I sleep if my wife wasn't home? I'm not that cruel, my dear," he teased.
"Alright, come inside. It's cold out here," Zamora said, pulling him by the hand.
"I'm more than ready to warm you up," Dante murmured, making her cheeks flush.
"I'll go light the fireplace," he added, clearly amused by her reaction.
Zamora pouted. Dante always laughed when he managed to fluster her.
"Were you hoping for something else?" he teased again.
"Yes. Something... refreshing," Zamora said, licking her lower lip playfully.
"Well then, I'll make it for you."
"But please, no oranges. I don't like them," she added, walking ahead with a mischievous sway in her hips.
"What do you mean?" Dante frowned.
"You're making me a warm drink, aren't you? In weather like this, something hot would be refreshing," she replied, leaving him behind.
Dante scowled. Now it was her turn to win. She laughed and ran through the castle, disappearing into the shadows. Dante chased her, vanishing into mist.
Unseen by either of them, a figure stood watching—Mark.
He was still deeply obsessed with Zamora, even though she now belonged to Dante.
"You're even more beautiful as a Succubus, Zamora. I can't let you go," he murmured.
"Who are you talking to?" asked Bella, passing by. She followed Mark's gaze—but saw no one.
"I hope you're not losing your mind," she muttered.
"Leave me alone, Bella. I'm not telling you anything," Mark snapped.
"Telling me what?" she asked curiously.
"I said I'm not telling you." With that, he vanished into the air.
"He really is losing it ever since Zamora became Dante's wife," Bella muttered, heading to her room.
---
Zamora couldn't sleep.
She lay in bed, staring at her husband's handsome face, then sighed and shifted her gaze to the spotless white ceiling above.
Will I ever be able to see Aunt Merry and Maggie again? she wondered, her voice barely a whisper in the stillness.
But they don't even recognize me. I can't reveal who I am. It would cause an uproar in the neighborhood...
"You're a good girl. I'm glad you remembered what I told you," came a voice beside her.
Startled, Zamora turned her head. Dante was still asleep—or so she thought.
Smiling softly, she ran her fingers through his silky hair.
"You're dreaming, my love," she whispered.