It was already two in the afternoon. The scorching Saigon sun beat down mercilessly, and waves of heat shimmered off the cement pavement. Inside a small room, Trang was busy preparing ingredients for her late-afternoon street food stall. Strips of rice paper, jars of seasoning—shrimp salt, fried shallots, dried beef, quail eggs—sat beside containers of tapioca pearls, coconut jelly, and other colorful toppings for bubble tea. The electric fan hummed steadily, matching the slow, familiar rhythm of life in the humble alleyway.

  Suddenly, the familiar sound of a motorbike buzzed from the front gate. It was H?ng Nhung, Trang’s best friend, arriving with a large plastic bag slung over her bike. She called out loudly:

  — “Trang! I bought Phá L?u for you! And I got an extra portion for ?ng Nhan too!”

  Hearing the call, Trang rushed out to open the gate, her hands still wet from washing Vietnamese coriander and green mango.

  — “Oh my god, why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I would’ve cooked something!”

  H?ng Nhung wheeled her faded silver scooter into the cement yard, where Trang’s small cactus and succulent garden sat neatly in a corner. She grinned:

  — “No need to cook! I brought food. Is ?ng Nhan home? Let’s invite him to eat with us.”

  A voice answered from the far end of the row of rented rooms. ?ng Nhan, their elderly neighbor who made a living collecting recyclables, emerged with his usual calm and slightly witty tone:

  — “Nhung’s here again? Last time you brought Bún Riêu, now Phá L?u… I’m touched!”

  H?ng Nhung burst into laughter:

  — “It’s nothing, sir! I just wanted to treat you. I’ll set the food out at the stone table in the yard—it's cooler outside.”

  Trang hurried back inside and returned with three ceramic bowls, bamboo chopsticks, and coconut spoons. Together with H?ng Nhung, she plated the Phá L?u—steaming in its coconut broth—into the bowls, along with a dish of fragrant Vietnamese coriander and a sweet-and-sour kumquat dipping sauce.

  ?ng Nhan slowly made his way to the stone table under the shady mango tree in the courtyard. H?ng Nhung sat next to him, her smile radiant like a flower blooming in the sunlight.

  Trang brushed off her hands and stood:

  — “Nhung, stay here. I’ll run out and grab some sodas. This dish isn’t the same without a cold drink!”

  — “Sure! Don’t forget a bottle of soy milk for ?ng Nhan—he loves that stuff!” H?ng Nhung called after her.

  ?ng Nhan chuckled gently, watching Trang’s figure disappear down the alley. On the table, the aroma of the coconut-simmered stew mingled with the midday sunlight and chirping birds—an oasis of warmth and simplicity in a world where dark tides were quietly gathering just beyond the horizon.

  After Trang left the boarding house to buy drinks, the atmosphere around the dining table suddenly shifted. ?ng Nhan, the elderly man usually gentle like a kindhearted neighbor, now wore a hardened expression. His eyes—deep and shadowed—glimmered faintly with a trace of sinister energy. He set down his coconut spoon and spoke in a voice that had changed completely—cold as death itself:

  — “I see you treat my adopted daughter well… no wonder—you are a celestial maiden of the Northern Realm.”

  H?ng Nhung paused slightly, but her gaze remained calm. She replied softly:

  — “I care deeply for Trang and her situation. She lost her parents at a young age, was shunned by relatives, and her rightful inheritance was stolen by her uncle’s family. And yet, she remains unaware, believing that C?u D?ng is a kind man who’s always looked out for her.”

  ?ng Nhan nodded slowly, then lifted his eyes toward the midday sun filtering through the tree canopy. His voice echoed like a wind howling from the abyss:

  — “At this moment, I am punishing My—that arrogant heiress—and Anh ?ào, the eldest daughter of D?ng, Trang’s cousin. Both of them are expired pawns, no longer useful. They must be purged to make room for the next pieces.”

  H?ng Nhung placed her hand gently on the stone table, her voice softening, sincere:

  — “You may be the Demon King Satan… but since you consider Trang your daughter, I feel reassured. Though I am a celestial maiden from the Northern Realm, I’ve lived on Earth for nearly a hundred years. I understand humans well—some wear a friendly mask, yet harbor cruelty far beyond that of demons.”

  ?ng Nhan turned to face her, his tone sharp once more, though touched with warmth:

  — “Of course. Now that I have taken her in as my daughter, she is flesh of my flesh. I will protect her, repay every loss she has suffered, and give her all that she rightfully deserves.”

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  A brief silence followed, broken only by the rustle of leaves. In the dappled sunlight streaming through the branches, two beings from opposing realms—a Demon King and a Celestial Guardian—sat quietly, united by a single mission: to protect Trang, a mortal girl destined to alter the fate of both worlds.

  Under the scorching midday sun, golden rays pierced through the mango leaves shading the small courtyard of the boarding house. Suddenly, ?ng Nhan raised his thin yet powerful hand. The air around him trembled slightly before swirling into a vortex of light, revealing an ancient artifact—the legendary Velkhanis Mirror, a sacred relic reserved only for the royal bloodline of Satan’s Mafia Empire. Its edges glowed with five-colored light, the symbol of absolute authority in the underworld.

  He gently touched the mirror’s surface. Instantly, the face of Prince Arian—his eldest son with the Queen and the commanding authority over both the royal headquarters on Earth and the infernal military base—appeared crystal clear, as if standing right in front of him. His voice rang out, urgent yet composed:

  — “Father, the Velkhanis satellite system just picked up a signal. A family of elves is hiding under human guise here in Saigon. They’re the in-laws of D?ng—the uncle of Princess Trang. Most notably, Anh Tú, the husband of Anh ?ào, is a cunning and well-disguised elf.”

  ?ng Nhan didn’t look surprised. He gave a slow nod, his eyes flashing coldly:

  — “I’ve long suspected it. That’s precisely why I’ve been attacking Anh ?ào—his wife—by invading her mind. It’s a warning to those foolish elves who dare interfere with the royal bloodline of Satan.”

  Just as he finished speaking, H?ng Nhung leaned forward and caught sight of Arian’s face in the mirror. Her heart skipped a beat—his striking looks and regal aura were overwhelming, and his icy blue eyes both entranced and intimidated. Arian had noticed her and spoke, his voice deep and steady:

  — “A celestial maiden from the Northern Realm? Why are you here? What is your intention?”

  Caught off guard by his question, H?ng Nhung quickly composed herself and replied calmly:

  — “I’m Trang’s best friend. I’m only here to protect her—I have no ulterior motives. I don't meddle in the affairs of elves, mortals, or royalty. I mean her no harm. I’m her guardian.”

  Arian’s expression darkened slightly, suspicion creeping into his gaze. His voice turned firm and commanding:

  — “Celestial maiden… remember this. I am Arian, Crown Prince and heir to Satan. Whether you're a fairy, demon, or elf—if you have any designs on my sister, you will pay dearly. I’ll be watching you. If you dare scheme, I won’t spare you—even if you're from the Northern Realm.”

  H?ng Nhung remained composed, her eyes unwavering though a flicker of unease passed through them:

  — “I understand. But if I had meant harm to Trang, ?ng Nhan would’ve destroyed me long ago.”

  Arian’s tone softened slightly:

  — “Then allow me to end this conversation. I’m currently overseeing three estates with Lady Grand Advisor—one in Th?o ?i?n where My lives, the second being D?ng's villa, and the third belonging to the elven family in District 7.”

  ?ng Nhan gave a nod, and with a final touch, the five-colored glow of the mirror faded. The Velkhanis Mirror vanished into the air like it had never existed. He turned back to H?ng Nhung, his voice lower but laced with meaning:

  — “The war between the races has been quietly brewing for a long time... but this time, I—Satan—will be the one to tip the scales of justice.”

  Tension hung thick in the air inside the European-style mansion of Anh Tú’s family, nestled in the wealthy district of District 7. In the grand living room, atop a marble table, a floating magic orb cast a faint glow, projecting a three-dimensional image of Anh Tú standing within a circle of glowing magical runes—his personal Level 9 Defense Seal.

  The deep, stern voice of Mr. ??c, his father, echoed with concern:

  — “Son… your wife—Anh ?ào—is under direct attack from that old devil, Satan. What do you plan to do now?”

  Anh Tú’s brows furrowed, his expression grim:

  — “Satan’s power is overwhelming… pure, original hellfire energy. Anh ?ào has started hallucinating even while awake. She can’t tell reality from illusion anymore. I’ve activated a Level 9 magical defense around her, but it’s useless.”

  Mrs. Tam, his mother, interrupted with a shaky voice, though still trying to maintain the composure of a seasoned elf:

  — “Our family’s been hunted by the Royal Mafia of Satan for centuries… We thought hiding on Earth, blending in with humans, would be enough to stay safe. But he’s sniffed us out again…”

  Mr. ??c clicked his tongue, his sharp eyes gleaming like steel:

  — “Word is, that girl My—from the Quy-Lan family—has also been struck by Satan. Her parents must be in a state of chaos. I wonder how that family plans to fight back… Do they have any options?”

  Anh Tú stared intensely through the orb at his parents, his voice low and steady:

  “My father-in-law said they've invited an ancient mage from the South — an old friend of Vú N?m, said to possess rare and formidable spiritual powers. Let’s see if they can handle it. If not… I’ll have no choice but to seek aid from the Hidden Spirit Palace.”

  The room fell silent, and the temperature seemed to drop. A three-way war was looming—between ancient elves, the infernal mafia of Satan, and the mysterious old mages of the South.

  Trang had just returned to the entrance of the boarding house, holding two bottles of soda and a bag of soy milk. The blazing midday sun left beads of sweat glistening on her forehead. As she stepped past the iron gate, H?ng Nhung ran out from the courtyard to help her with the drinks, grumbling playfully:

  — “Where’ve you been? ?ng Nhan and I have been waiting forever!”

  Trang panted, handing her friend the bag:

  — “Dì Tám’s shop was packed. I had to wait for her to ring up the customers. I didn’t mean to be late…”

  H?ng Nhung pulled her toward the stone table, pouring drinks while giving her a teasing glare:

  — “Hey… has your C?u D?ng contacted you these past few days?”

  Trang shook her head gently, a shadow of sadness flickering in her eyes:

  — “No. He’s probably busy... Besides, his family never liked me much. Even if he did reach out, it wouldn’t change anything.”

  From across the table, ?ng Nhan spoke slowly, his voice laced with subtle undertones:

  — “Then that’s for the best. If they don’t care, it’s less trouble for us—especially with that in-law family of your uncle’s.”

  Trang looked up, puzzled:

  — “You mean Anh Tú’s family? I thought they seemed pretty nice at the wedding…”

  ?ng Nhan let out a soft chuckle, his gaze suddenly sharp:

  — “That’s just appearances, child. This world is full of beautiful masks.”

  Seeing Trang’s wide-eyed confusion, the tension at the table thickened. Quickly, H?ng Nhung changed the subject to ease the mood:

  — “Alright, let’s eat before the Phá L?u gets cold—it won’t taste as good!”

  The three of them happily dug into the steaming bowls of beef offal stew in the stillness of the scorching afternoon. Yet deep inside Trang, a faint thread of doubt began to take shape. Meanwhile, ?ng Nhan’s lips curled into a calculating smile.

  Outside, the wind stirred—carrying with it the scent of an approaching storm.