My Wives are Beautiful Demons

"Oh, of course... of course it was her," said the goddess, rolling her eyes in exasperation. Her tone was no longer threatening - it was pure weariness. "That wretch is always pulling strings behind our backs. Always ordering people to blow up walls or break into shrines... as if I didn't have an eternity of more important tasks!"

She ran her fingers through her shiny white hair, trying to contain the annoyance that throbbed in her temples. She sighed, like someone who already knew the day was lost.

Vergil, still dusty in his overcoat, snorted. "Technically, it was you who broke the wall, throwing me with all that delicacy..." He stopped.

A shiver ran down his spine like a thread of ice being pulled from the base of his neck to his stomach.

Aphrodite was still smiling, eyes closed, as if savoring the moment.

"Lord with no name," she said with venomous sweetness, her smile as thin as a blade. "If you dare say another syllable, I swear I'll kill you with such elegance that even hell will rise to applaud."

Vergil stared at her for a second in silence... then just let out a deep, weary sigh.

"Really... why do I still get involved in these things?" he muttered, crestfallen. "I've got so many things to do and Paimon still sends me to deal with a Goddess... I'm going to be confined to Sapphire's breasts when I get back... or Raphaeline's?... Maybe Ada's... Katharina's... Roxanne's... Stella's... all of them?... Maybe I need to rest..." He muttered like a fallen demon, it was really frustrating, yet he had work to do. His eyes lifted and he looked at Aphrodite.

She crossed her arms, frowning impatiently. "What now?" she growled. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Vergil raised an eyebrow, as if he were examining a painting whose authorship didn't match its aesthetics.

"It's just... I don't know." He made a vague gesture in her direction. "I thought you were more, like... porcelain skin, light blue eyes, golden or bubblegum pink hair. You know, very pop mythology cliché."

He shrugged. "But you look... Egyptian. Or something, that tanned skin really catches the eye."

Aphrodite blinked, surprised for a moment - then laughed. Not a light laugh, but a rich, almost arrogant laugh, as if someone had finally said something remotely interesting.

"Egyptian?" she repeated, smiling like someone hearing a compliment hidden in an offense." You really don't know who you're dealing with. I'm the archetype of beauty. Every era shapes me differently. I've been blonde, red, blue, black, old, young, serpent, shadow... or, as now, a reminder that the divine is rarely what you expect."

Vergil stared into the goddess' iridescent eyes for a few seconds, absorbing every word. The intensity of her presence was almost overwhelming... almost.

He then let out a short, dry laugh and looked away with feigned disdain.

"Archetype of beauty, eh?" he said, scratching his chin like someone appraising an antique piece of furniture at an auction. "Look... with all due respect, or maybe not so much... My wives are much hotter than you."

The silence that followed was so dense that it seemed to suck the sound out of reality itself. The wilted flowers shook. The air grew hotter. Aphrodite didn't move for a second, as if her brain was refusing to process it.

Then, very slowly, she smiled. A tense, humorless smile, like a rope about to snap.

"Say that again, just so I'm sure I heard you right," she said, her voice dangerously calm.

Vergil shrugged, as if he were talking about the weather.

"I said that my wives are more beautiful. More attractive. More everything, really." He started counting on his fingers. "Viviane is pure charm and elegance. Katharina? Natural sensuality. Roxanne is a storm. Ada, a living painting. Sapphire... Stella, Raphaeline... Real Queens" He paused dramatically. "...well even my mother, if beauty killed, she'd be a walking genocide."

The transformation was instantaneous.

The flower shop shook. Literally. The vines on the ceiling twisted violently. Vases exploded into dust and shards. The light in the room turned red for a second, as if the sun itself had gone through a blood filter. Aphrodite now seemed made of pure fury.

"INSIGNIFICANT!" she shouted, and the sound wasn't a sound, it was a wave of power that pushed Vergil back another step.

"You dare!" she continued, her eyes blazing like flaming diamonds. "Compare this divine temple to a bunch of mortals you collect as sentimental trophies?"

She stepped forward, the ground cracking beneath her feet. A storm of burning petals swirled around her like a gale. "I am the essence of attraction, the spark in lovers' eyes, the lust of empires! I am humanity's first temptation, desire before reason!"

Vergil, even under pressure, smiled. The smile of someone who knows he's poking a hornet's nest with a stick just because he can.

"And yet, none of them get all excited when they're not called 'the most beautiful in the universe'," he said, flapping his hands to wipe the dust off his overcoat. "You look like a rejected teenager in high school."

Aphrodite froze. For a second, she just breathed - if gods breathe. Long enough for the world to hold its breath. Then she took a step forward... and the whole universe seemed to lean in to see what would happen next. The flower shop no longer seemed like an earthly place - the colors vibrated too much, the air pulsed with energy, and the world seemed contained within her breath.

"Right," she said, in an almost serene, almost... sweet. "You want to play."

She closed her eyes and raised a hand, fingers outstretched like a conductor about to conduct the deadliest of symphonies.

A soft, golden aura spread from her like perfume - invisible to the ordinary eye, but thick as spiritual mist. It was charm. Pure, distilled desire. The divine gift that dragged hearts into wars and kingdoms to the ground. Every flower, every particle of air, every shadow in the room leaned towards her. It was impossible not to notice: the universe itself seemed to fall in love with Aphrodite at that moment.

Vergil blinked.

And... nothing.

He just stood there. Arms crossed. An arched eyebrow. A discreet yawn. The golden aura dissipated against him like smoke hitting a steel wall.

Aphrodite opened her eyes. Her smile slowly disappeared, replaced by a slight frown. "...hmm. Must have been too weak," she muttered, now with a hint of doubt. "I'll stop taking it easy on you."

She concentrated harder, her eyes shining brightly, her whole body radiating holy lust. A sensual storm swept through the room: scents, light, illusions - impossible beauties danced around Vergil, shaped by centuries of human desire.

Vergil took a lint from his jacket. "Are you finished?"

Silence.

Aphrodite took a step back.

"...n-not possible." Her voice came out low. "That... that never happened. Not even the holiest, the most chaste... the archangels trembled before me... And you...?"

She stared at him as if looking at something unnatural. "Who... what are you?"

Vergil smiled. Not out of arrogance. But with the weariness of someone who has faced worse and no longer has time for games.

"I'm the husband of the Three Demon Queens," he said casually, as if talking about the weather. "Sapphire, Stella and Raphaeline. I can say that I'm the Death Knight. And, in case you haven't heard, since you don't know about this... I'm also the Fifth Demon King of the Underworld."

He snapped his fingers. A small fissure of darkness opened up under his feet, pulsing with abyssal energy. "What did you think I was? Just another dumb little mortal with a pretty sabre and an inflated chest?"

Aphrodite opened her mouth - and left it wide open, without a trace of the usual divine haughtiness. Firstly, because he had completely resisted her seduction. Secondly, because he was blatantly arrogant. And thirdly...

"S-S-S... Sapphire?!" She stuttered like a cornered animal, her eyes wide with sudden panic.

Vergil turned to her with a dry, bored look on his face. "I literally just said that," he replied in a monotone. "Are you deaf... or just dumb?"

Aphrodite's expression froze. Her face - moments ago as vibrant and radiant as an enchanting dawn - now oscillated between absolute shock and a twinge of sheer terror. She took a step back, as if the very name "Sapphire" carried a weight that no goddess should touch.

Aphrodite swallowed dryly, pride choking in her throat like a lump impossible to disguise. She raised a trembling hand and pointed to the door with all the desperate dignity she could muster.

"I'm sorry. Go away." She said, with a tense, fake smile pasted on her face, like someone trying to convince a hungry bear that she's just a decorative bush.

"I don't want to be murdered by the... Celestial Demon just because I was, you know... an idiot." She giggled nervously, her eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights of a hellish chariot. "So, please. Let's pretend nothing happened. You can walk out of that beautiful door, without any explosion, without any curse, and I'll stay here... alive. Is that all right? That's fine."

She slowly backed up to the counter, stumbling over a broken vase, keeping her smile stretched like a mask. "If you want, I'll even give you a bouquet. Of apologies. With thorns. My own, even."