Obligations 1

As Victor raised his fist to knock on the bedroom door, he was startled by Verunas Melphi's voice from behind.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the demon yawned, shuffling past while cradling a steaming mug. Well, he was wearing his glamour, so Victor supposed he ought to think of him as his human alias Varun Bisht. "Captain's in an awful mood."

Victor frowned. True, he hadn't seen Mirage since last evening, when he'd been called by the Infernal Lord, and he'd been giving the captain space since then, but he'd thought Mirage would be back to normal by now. His usual reaction to the Infernal Lord's lectures was to sulk for a bit before spending all of the next day gleefully badmouthing the guy and regaling Victor with gorily specific tales about how he intended to deal with all of his detractors once he took over.

"I just wanted to check on him," Victor said.

Varun rubbed his eyes. "No, seriously. If you so much as make a sound near that door he'll bite your head off. Ah, it's enough to make me lose my motivation."

'Impossible to lose what you never had in the first place,' Victor thought with a scowl as Varun stumbled off to the living room, presumably to play his daily Animal Crossing only to fall asleep at the controller and force Victor to turn off the console before he wasted more power.

Sometimes Victor felt more like a babysitter than anything else. It was largely Melphi's fault for moonlighting as a NEET instead of a productive member of society; then again Victor had a hard time picturing him holding down any job. Still, even Imago made some kind of effort selling trinkets on the street, although Victor'd had to bail him out of jail a couple of times.

Mirage was right. They were all useless. Sighing, Victor rubbed his forehead. Why did he still bother to stick around?

For Theo's sake, he reminded himself. He'd endure anything, no matter what anyone else thought about him. Including Theo himself.

Gritting his teeth, Victor knocked on the door.

No response, which surprised him a little considering what Melphi had said. He knocked again.

This time, a dull thud echoed from the other side of the door. Probably a pillow.

Whatever, Victor could deal with Mirage if he was in a throwing things mood. Raising his voice, he said, "Mr. Rose, I have your schedule for the day."

He didn't expect a response, so it caught him off guard when Mirage gave a sullen mumble. "Cancel everything."

Well, he was talking. An encouraging sign. "Are you sure? Remember, you have that interview today. You were looking forward to it, weren't you?"

"I don't care."

This struck Victor as extremely uncharacteristic. Mirage had been unable to shut up about this interview for months, a feature on some popular fashion website that would raise his star even further.

Knowing him, if he missed it today he'd probably spend all of tomorrow blaming Victor. So Victor made up his mind and tried the doorknob. It was unlocked, so he pushed it open and stepped inside.

With the heavy velvet curtains drawn tightly shut, he felt like he'd entered a vampire's lair. The matching curtains around the imposing four-poster bed were also closed. Victor walked to the bed, stepping carefully to avoid the shards of glass and smashed roses littering the carpet. Seemed Mirage had shattered a vase.

That exceedingly tacky Roman bust he'd commissioned of himself was also lying on its side, a crack through the nose. Which, Victor couldn't lie, did make for an improvement.

"Mr. Rose," Victor said, raising his voice.

A shuffling sound from behind the curtains. "Fuck off."

"I will, but first I need to confirm your schedule with you."

"I said clear it! Are you deaf as well as stupid?"

"Again, the interview – "

"Again, I don't fucking care!"

"All right." Victor pulled out his phone and deleted all the appointments on the calendar. Then he'd have to send some apologetic emails, but that could wait. "Please remember you made this choice so don't be angry at me tomorrow."

No response, just more shuffling.

"Furthermore...," Victor said, slow and careful, "I would like your orders for the day, Captain."

A pillow flew out from between the curtains so quickly Victor couldn't dodge. He let it hit him in the face and explode in a shower of feathers, making a mental note to order a replacement.

"I repeat, your orders."

Another pillow flew, slamming him in the chest. This one didn't break, thankfully. Victor caught it before it could fall to the floor.

He eyed the narrow gap between the curtains, but no more pillows came. So he chanced, "Captain."

The next thing he knew, the curtain yanked open and Mirage stuck his head out. "Argh, shut up! Just fuck off already!"

Victor blinked. Even in the dimness, he could tell Mirage was a wreck, his hair limp and lank, dark bags beneath his eyes. Most alarmingly, he wasn't in his glamour; with his horns and pointed ears, he presented an odd sight in the mundane bedroom, yet at the same time he suited the darkness all too well.

"Does that mean I'm free for the day?" Victor asked carefully. "Both as Mr. Rose's assistant and your soldier?"

"Yes! Go off and, I don't know, stalk that stupid little brother of yours or something."

"So I have leave to visit Theo?"

"Do I have to repeat myself?" Mirage glared at him, breathing hard. Some of his disheveled hair had fallen over one eye, but the other blazed bright and golden. Filled with anger, but a wild, desperate sort, like that of a cornered animal.