My Wives are Beautiful Demons

Chapter 822: Lilith is waking up.

Here is the continuation with a more emotional and serious scene, keeping the paragraphs more organized and without fragmenting them too much.Lilith lay on a wide bed in the quietest room of the castle, surrounded by containment seals, healing circles, and layers of energy placed there by everyone who had tried to keep her alive until Vergil’s return. The room did not look like an ordinary infirmary. It was closer to a protection chamber, hastily built to prevent any residue of the Abyss from continuing to advance over her. Even so, despite all those defenses, Lilith’s presence remained unstable. Her breathing was weak, irregular, and the demonic energy that should normally flow around her with imposing force seemed withdrawn, as if something had forced her soul to hide inside her own body.

Vergil entered without announcing his presence. Sapphire and Sepphirothy remained outside for a moment, not because he had forbidden them from entering, but because they understood there was something about this visit that needed to happen without too many witnesses. He walked to the bed without hurry, but each step carried a different weight from the one he had shown in the Abyss. Down there, his wrath had been a sentence. Here, before an unconscious Lilith, that same rage seemed to have become exhaustion. A deep, silent exhaustion, accumulated in a short time, but strong enough to make his face more serious than usual.

He sat beside the bed and spent a few seconds watching her. Lilith, who had so often seemed unshakable, now looked too small beneath those dark sheets. Not fragile in the ordinary sense, because even unconscious she still carried the presence of an ancient entity, but there was a vulnerability there that Vergil did not like seeing. The Abyss had left marks on her. Not only on her body. There was something deeper, something clinging to her mind, interfering with her dreams, her senses, and the way her consciousness tried to return.

Vergil raised his hand and carefully touched her head. Sacred-demonic energy began flowing silently from his fingers, slowly entering Lilith’s body without aggression. He did not try to force the healing. Not in that state. The energy spread like a precise command, closing internal damage, stabilizing the soul, and cleansing Abyssal residues that still remained attached to the more superficial layers of her existence. For a few seconds, it seemed to work. Her breathing became a little more stable, and her fingers, previously motionless on the sheet, trembled faintly.

Then Vergil felt the resistance.

His gaze hardened.

It was not an ordinary wound. It was not poison, nor conventional demonic corruption, nor a containment seal left by the Sins to prevent her recovery. That had another signature. It was too soft on the surface, but deeply invasive underneath, as if it had been created not to destroy the body, but to trap the mind in a continuous cycle of sensations, distorted memories, and imposed dreams. Vergil recognized the energy before he even finished analyzing it.

Lust.

The curse was not trying to kill Lilith.

It was keeping her imprisoned.

Vergil closed his eyes for an instant, and the temperature of the room seemed to fall. There was no explosion of aura, no manifestation of miasma, but the seals on the walls trembled with the force of his contained rage. He had already eliminated Victoria, had already taken her Authority and crushed her residue inside himself, but finding one last mark she had left on Lilith reignited something that had not yet gone out completely. The difference was that now he was not in the Abyss. There were no Sins before him. There was only his unconscious grandmother, trapped in a cowardly curse.

Carefully, Vergil moved his hand from Lilith’s head to the center of her chest. He did not touch her roughly. He simply placed his palm over the point where the curse was hiding, between the layers of vital and spiritual energy. The Authority of Lust inside him reacted immediately, as if recognizing its own residue, but Vergil did not allow it to manifest freely. He used it as a tool. Ordered it to obey. The pink energy inside Lilith began to condense little by little, resisting like a living thing trying to remain buried.

Lilith stirred on the bed. Her face tightened, her lips parted in a broken breath, and her hands gripped the sheet with force. Vergil kept his expression closed, but he did not retreat. The pink sphere slowly emerged beneath his palm, passing through her body without wounding her, as if it were being pulled out of a bad dream. It was small, bright, and pulsing, but it carried a repulsive presence. Not because of its appearance, but because of what it represented. Forced memories. Altered desires. Fears turned into images. Fragility used as a prison.

When the sphere finally came out completely, Vergil held it between his fingers and observed the glow for less than a second. There was no need to study it. No need to keep it. He closed his fist, and the curse shattered in silence, crushed by the pressure of his energy until nothing remained but pink sparks fading in the air. The room immediately became lighter. Lilith’s breathing changed again, now more clearly, as if something had stopped pressing on her mind.

Vergil let out a low sigh, tired and irritated at the same time. "She was having all kinds of dreams," he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. There was contempt in his voice, but something heavier beneath it as well. It was not difficult to understand what that curse had done. Victoria had not merely injured Lilith. She had played with her mind while she was vulnerable, forcing her to go through images and sensations that did not belong to her. To Vergil, it was one more confirmation that Lust’s death had been far too merciful.

He remained seated beside her, waiting. The healing energy continued flowing, now less intensely, just enough to stabilize the damage left by the curse. A few seconds passed. Then more. Lilith moved her fingers again, this time with more strength. Her breathing became quick for an instant, then caught, as if she were trying to leave some place too deep. Vergil leaned forward slightly, attentive.

Lilith woke up suddenly.

She lifted her head with a start, eyes wide, breathing frantic and uncontrolled. For a moment, she seemed not to recognize the room. Her gaze darted over the walls, the seals, the shadows, as if she were still trapped in some reflection of the nightmare. Then she saw Vergil. Her expression changed immediately. The fear did not disappear, but it found a different target, a real anchor in the middle of the confusion. Lilith threw herself at him before her own body finished responding, hugging him tightly.

Vergil stayed still for half a second, surprised by the reaction, but soon held her to keep her from falling off the bed. Lilith trembled against him, her fingers clutching his clothes as if she needed to confirm that he was truly there. Then she began to cry. Not in a restrained way, not with the old posture of someone who always controlled every emotion, but brokenly, exhaustedly, like someone who had resisted inside her own mind for far too long.

"I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry," she repeated, her voice muffled against him, each word more desperate than the last. "I’m so sorry. I’m really sorry."

Vergil frowned, confused. Of all the reactions he had expected when waking her, this had not been among them. Lilith should have asked about Sapphire, Sepphirothy, the Abyss, the Sins. She should have cursed, threatened someone, or tried to get out of bed before she could even stand. Instead, she was clinging to him, crying as if asking forgiveness for something too old.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, keeping his voice low so as not to frighten her even more.

Lilith tried to answer, but the first attempt was lost in another fit of crying. She squeezed her eyes shut, breathed unsteadily, and forced the words out. "I was afraid you would be like Lucifer. I looked at you and saw things I did not want to see. The power, the blood, the lineage, that way everything around you seems to bend when you decide something. I was afraid I was watching everything happen again. That is why I treated you coldly. That is why I kept my distance. I thought that, if I got too close, I would realize you were also walking toward the same place he did."

Vergil did not answer immediately. The confusion on his face did not disappear, but something in his eyes became more serious. He did not look offended. He looked as if he were trying to arrange the information into a sequence that made sense. Lilith was still trembling, and the way she spoke made it clear that part of it came from her, but part had been distorted, amplified, and pushed by Victoria’s curse until it became torture.

"What happened to you in there?" he asked.

Lilith took a deep breath, but it came out broken. She pulled her face back just enough to look at him, her eyes still wet, her expression marked by shame, fear, and exhaustion. "I went through hell over and over because of that bitch," she said, her voice failing at the end, but carrying real hatred. "She trapped me in dreams. They were not normal dreams. They were scenarios, memories, possibilities. She made me see you becoming him. Made me see myself failing again. Made me see everyone dying because I could not stop it. And every time I tried to wake up, it started again."

Vergil stayed silent.

His hand closed slightly against her back.

Lilith noticed the change in the pressure around them and held him tighter, as if afraid he would simply stand up and go kill someone who was already dead. "Do not go to that place now," she pleaded, still breathless. "I know what you did. I felt part of it even while sleeping. I know she died. Just stay here for a little while."

Vergil remained quiet for a few seconds. Then he breathed slowly, forcing his own energy to stay stable. The Authority of Lust, suppressed inside him, seemed even more repulsive after that. Now he knew exactly how Victoria had used that power against Lilith. Not as a battle weapon, but as an instrument of humiliation, fear, and manipulation. Even so, he did not move. Did not stand. Did not leave.

He simply hugged Lilith back.

"She no longer exists," Vergil said quietly. "And what she left in you no longer exists either."

Lilith closed her eyes, breathing with difficulty against his shoulder. The crying had not stopped, but it began to lose strength little by little. Vergil kept his hand on her back, supporting her carefully, as if that gesture were the only thing that truly mattered at the moment. Outside the room, Sapphire and Sepphirothy remained silent, feeling the energy inside the chamber slowly stabilize.

Lilith tightened her fingers in his clothes once more. "I’m sorry," she repeated, now lower. "I should have looked at you properly."

Vergil lowered his gaze to her and answered without harshness. "Then look now."

She went still for an instant. Then she slowly raised her face and looked into his eyes. There was still death there. There was still something heavy, something that had not existed before. But there was no Lucifer. Not in the way she feared. What stood before her was Vergil, tired, irritated, dangerous, and alive, sitting beside her bed after crossing the Abyss to bring everyone back.

Lilith cried again, but this time the crying came out differently.

And Vergil stayed there.