Alexander Gremory grew up in solitude. As the son of Sirzechs Lucifer, the Crimson Satan, and Grayfia Lucifuge, the Strongest Queen, one would expect him to be a child of immense potential—cherished, honored, and celebrated. Instead, he was cast aside, ignored by the very people who should have nurtured him.
His crime? Being born without the Power of Destruction, the prized ability of the Bael bloodline. Worse yet, his demonic power was minimal, a mere flicker compared to the raging infernos possessed by other heirs of noble families. Whispers spread through devil society like wildfire—Grayfia had been unfaithful. How else could the son of Sirzechs Lucifer lack the traits of his father?
Alexander bore none of his father's features. Where Sirzechs had rich crimson hair and piercing blue-green eyes, Alexander's hair was as white as snow, his irises a brilliant sky blue, like polished gems. Doubt festered in the hearts of the Underworld's nobility, straining the once-unshakable bond between Sirzechs and Grayfia. It was only after Ajuka Beelzebub personally confirmed his bloodline that the accusations were put to rest. But by then, the damage had already been done.
The endless fights, the unspoken resentment, and the cold distance between his parents—all of it shaped his earliest years. Even after the truth was revealed, their subconscious neglect remained. Sirzechs, burdened by his duties as a Super Devil and leader of the Underworld, had little time for his son. Grayfia, ever-loyal to her role as head maid of the Gremory Clan, found it easier to bury herself in work rather than confront her failings as a mother.
And then Rias was born.
A mere two weeks younger than Alexander, she was everything he was not. A true Gremory heiress—blessed with an overwhelming amount of demonic power and the coveted Power of Destruction. It was as if the entire family had been waiting for an excuse to forget Alexander, and with Rias' birth, they found one.
Where he was ignored, she was adored. Where he was cast into the shadows, she was placed upon a pedestal.
His parents, once distant, now disregarded his existence entirely. The few moments they spent with him felt forced, an obligation rather than genuine care. Even the servants of the household treated him with disdain, fulfilling only the bare minimum of their duties—providing food, shelter, and nothing more. They had no reason to care for the forgotten son when they could instead win favor by doting on Rias.
Thus, Alexander Gremory was left alone, a mere shadow within the house of his birth.
This caused the boy to grow up lonely, frail, and forgotten. Sadness became his only companion, hunger his constant torment. While other noble children thrived under the warmth of their families, Alexander withered in the cold shadows of neglect.
He was painfully small for his age, his body thin and fragile. The lack of proper care left him malnourished, his ribs faintly visible beneath his clothes, his limbs weak. His once bright sky-blue eyes grew dull, his voice quiet, barely heard over the laughter that filled the grand halls of the Gremory estate—laughter that never included him.
But even his pitiful state failed to stir concern. His parents, absorbed in their duties and in raising Rias, never noticed his suffering. The servants, who should have cared for him, did only the bare minimum, ensuring he lived, but nothing more. No kindness, no warmth, no love.
However, he did not let despair consume him. Despite the neglect, despite the cold indifference of those around him, Alexander refused to break.
He convinced himself that his family was merely too busy, that the servants had important duties to attend to. If they could not care for him, then he would care for himself.
With relentless determination, he learned how to bathe, how to dress properly, how to eat with manners befitting a noble—all on his own. He taught himself how to read and write, pouring over books for hours, pushing himself beyond exhaustion, all in the hopes of earning even a sliver of recognition.
He gave it everything—1000% of his effort—just so someone would finally look his way.
But hope is a cruel thing.
No matter what he did, no one cared. His accomplishments, no matter how impressive for a child his age, were met with silence. His struggles, his efforts, his triumphs—all ignored.
Yet Rias…
The beloved princess of the Gremory family could do no wrong. If she tripped over her own feet, they would praise her for standing so gracefully before falling. If she spoke even a few words, they would celebrate her intelligence. Every mistake was adorable, every success a sign of her limitless potential.
And Alexander?
Nothing.
When he mustered the courage to ask his father to train with him, Sirzechs would sigh and say he was too busy with devil affairs—but the moment Rias requested the same, he dropped everything. If he asked his mother to spend time with him, she would remind him of her duties as the Gremory head maid—but if Rias so much as hinted at wanting her company, Grayfia would be by her side in an instant.
Even the servants who barely acknowledged his existence treated Rias like a goddess descended upon the Underworld.
But all of this came to an end when he turned six years old.
From that day forward, everything changed.
The lonely boy who once chased after scraps of affection, who pushed himself beyond his limits just for a word of praise, was gone.
Alexander ceased trying.
He was no longer seen with his so-called family. The grand halls of the Gremory estate, once echoing with his quiet pleas for attention, no longer knew his presence. Even the servants, who had never cared for him, rarely caught a glimpse of him anymore.
The only time they saw him was when they brought food to his room—because, in the eyes of his loving grandfather, he was not worthy enough to sit at the same table as the great Gremory Clan.
His sixth ignored birthday was the final nail in the coffin. Not a single word, not a single glance, not a single acknowledgment.Again.
That was the day the last of his hope died.
That was the day Alexander Gremory became indifferent.
No longer did he seek approval. No longer did he yearn for love. No longer did he care.
From that moment on, his heart became as cold as the cruelest winter.