Luciel stood there, staring at the girl's back as she disappeared into the busy street beyond the alley.
"Cram… school?" he repeated to himself.
The word was foreign, yet oddly interesting. Was it some kind of training ground for warriors? A secret guild of scholars? If so, maybe these "humans" weren't as weak as he thought.
His stomach growled.
Luciel froze. He placed a hand over his abdomen, eyes widening.
"What… was that?"
For the first time in his life, he felt hunger. In the Demon Realm, energy flowed through him naturally—he never needed to eat. But now? His body demanded something, an unknown sustenance.
He looked back at the homeless man still sleeping nearby.
"Do humans eat each other? No… that doesn't seem right. Or does it?"
His thoughts were interrupted when he caught a whiff of something—warm, savory, and rich. The scent sent a jolt through his body, awakening a primal instinct.
Luciel followed the scent out of the alley and onto the bustling city street.
Neon signs flickered above him, metal chariots (cars) roared past, and humans—so many of them—walked in all directions, each absorbed in their own strange rituals. Some had glowing rectangles pressed to their ears, others sat at wooden tables outside buildings, stuffing food into their mouths.
Luciel's gaze locked onto a nearby food stand. A man behind the counter was grilling pieces of meat, the flames licking at their surface. The scent was irresistible.
"Meat… flesh of a fallen beast! Surely, this is the food of warriors!"
Luciel approached, standing tall. He pointed at the sizzling skewers. "Human. I require one of these… offering of roasted flesh."
The vendor, a middle-aged man with an apron, blinked. "Uh… you mean a yakitori skewer?"
Luciel nodded solemnly. "Yes. Your yakitori. I demand one immediately."
The vendor frowned. "That'll be 200 yen."
Luciel's confident expression cracked.
"Yen…?"
Slowly, he reached into his pockets. Nothing. No demonic gold coins, no cursed relics—just empty fabric.
"Wait… I have no wealth?!"
Luciel looked back at the vendor, who was starting to get impatient.
"Listen, kid, if you ain't got money, move along."
Luciel's mind raced. This was humiliating. The prince of the Demon Realm, reduced to a beggar? Absolutely unacceptable!
But then—he had an idea.
Luciel narrowed his eyes, straightened his posture, and lifted his hand.
"I shall make you an offer, mortal." He pointed dramatically. "One skewer, in exchange for my eternal gratitude."
Silence.
The vendor stared at him. Then, very slowly, he said:
"Get lost."
Luciel felt true rejection for the first time in his life.