King's Glaive, Terra (Mortal Realm)
Being an idol is hard.
Did I ever regret it?
No, of course not. Music is my passion.
At the age of twenty-five, I've reached the breakthrough of my career behind the stage name LE-ON. I'm the first male artist whose popularity skyrocketed within a year. My fans—the queens—were not surprised. They said, they had seen my hard work, love, and dedication to music. But me? I had always felt there was something more than meets the eye.
My fans are all females.
Die hard fans.
The males?
Die hard anti-fans.
They hate me, even the male students and teachers at school when I was still studying. They hated me more when I earned the heartthrob title and became the face of the whole school campus.
Questionable, right?
My head never got big despite the praises and compliments I receive every day. My mom raised me to be kind and taught me to be humble at all times. I know I have the looks but sometimes I really couldn't help but ask her if she was the only pregnant woman who was wide awake when God blasted the world with beauty.
I also asked her if I inherited the genes from my dad. She didn't say a word. She just smiled at me and laughed.
I bet she is hiding something from me. She had told me many times that my dad died when I was just a baby, but I don't believe it.
He's there.
I can feel him everywhere.
It was Saturday midnight when I got home to our house in King's Glaive. Two floors, two bedrooms, and two guest rooms. Cozy and plain simple with a few abstract paintings nailed on the wall, music awards trophies displayed on a shelf, and a variety of flowers blooming in their vases.
In my own studio (LE-ON Studio) at the capital, I had been busy writing my new songs for my next album that I didn't realize it had gotten dark outside. I hadn't eaten my dinner so my stomach was empty and grumbling. Instead of heading straight to bed, I went to our kitchen to find something to eat when I heard voices.
"Clarisse . . . he doesn't belong in this realm."
"I know that!"
Huh? I didn't expect that two people were talking inside. I hid behind the wall, kept my backpack draped on one shoulder, and listened to them. My mother was awake but I couldn't recognize the man's voice.
"He needs to be with . . ."
"Please, give us more time. I can't . . ."
"I know this is all too sudden but he is a . . ."
Mom suddenly screamed. I got worried.
"Asmodeus! Please? Just one more day. Or a week? Give him time. He loves his music career right now. What do I tell people? . . to his friends . . . if our son suddenly disappeared?"
Dad is alive? Why does his name sound like a demon? And where will he take me?
I came a little closer and peeked into the kitchen. There, I saw my dad. I felt a strange power emanating from him. The tall man wore a black formal attire and a long black robe decorated with gold patterns that touched the floor. He looked like a king straight out of a fairytale book or an animé.
What surprised me the most were the large horns that stuck out of his skull. They were tangled with green vines and red roses. His silver hair, deep ruby eyes, and handsome face were extremely blinding and attractive that I felt . . . jealous? Why would I feel jealous?
"Clarisse, he is not human. You've known that since the day he was born," my dad said. He gently held my mom's hand while his free hand brushed her black locks away from her beautiful face. She silently cried and listened to him. "I need him there according to the laws of Zemoria and the Underworld.
"If he continues to stay in Terra, humans will begin noticing his youthful appearance. His good looks will continue capturing the hearts of many people. Soon . . . his natural desire and demonic power will come out. If he fails to control them—"
Shocked, my backpack slipped off my shoulder and it fell on the floor with a heavy thud. My parents were startled to see me coming out of my hiding place. I stared at them like I had been robbed, robbed of my real identity. With a trembling voice, I said:
"I'm a demon?"