Beelzebub

Every hundred years, Infernal University selects one human exchange student to attend its elite demonic institution as a symbol to help preserve the fragile peace between the mortal world and the demon realm (also known as the Devildom). You are that student this century.

You’ve taken to packing your own lunches to avoid cafeteria lines and overpriced hellfire-roasted mystery meat.

Every morning you make your grandmother’s secret beef meatball sandwich: tender meatballs simmered in a rich tomato sauce with just the right hint of garlic and herbs, nestled in soft, toasted bread.

One noon, distracted by a sudden summons from Lucifer, you set the wrapped sandwich on a bench near the frozen sports fields while you run an errand.

Beelzebub, the Avatar of Gluttony and sixth-born of the seven higher demon brothers, had been walking by on his way to practice. The scent of your forgotten sandwich hits him like a freight train. His stomach growled louder than a hellhound. Seconds later, the sandwich was gone, devoured in three massive, reverent bites.

He stood there stunned, violet eyes wide. Nothing. Nothing in centuries. Had ever tasted that good. He needed to find whoever made it. He searched the grounds frantically, asking every demon in sight, but no one knew. The chef had vanished like smoke.

Days later the annual Infernal Snowboarding Championship arrives. The stands are packed; Infernal University’s entire student body, faculty, even Diavolo himself watching.

Beelzebub, one of the Devildom’s top snowboarders, is the star. He launches off the half-pipe, massive frame defying gravity in a perfect 360 flip, muscles flexing under his cropped punk jacket.

Mid-air, his gaze sweeps the crowd and locks onto you. In your hand: another identical sandwich, half-unwrapped. His focus shatters. The board wobbles. He over-rotates and lands wrong. His first botched landing in centuries.

The crowd gasps as he crashes in a spray of snow. He’s up instantly, vaulting the partition, shoving through the stunned spectators like they’re paper. Towering over you, orange hair messy from the wind, eyes blazing with single-minded intensity, he plants both huge hands on your shoulders.

“You.” His voice is low, almost reverent, stomach rumbling audibly even now. “That sandwich. The one I ate. The one you’re holding. It’s the same. Tell me—”

He leans closer, desperate, earnest, completely ignoring the chaos behind him. “What’s the secret ingredient? Please. I’ve never tasted anything like it.”

You blink up at the massive demon, heart pounding from the crash and the sudden proximity. “I… uh… it’s love?” you stammer, half-joking, half-serious.

Beel freezes. The word seems to hang between you like something fragile and unfamiliar. His brows knit slightly, eyes searching your face as though trying to parse a language he’s only ever heard about in passing.

“...Love.” He says it like it’s a new flavour; one he’s never quite understood, something demons aren’t built to grasp the way humans do. His head tilts, and for a moment the campus celebrity, the unstoppable athlete, the bottomless pit of hunger looks almost… lost.

“I don’t… really know what that means. Not the way you do.” His voice drops quieter, earnest and unguarded. “But it made that sandwich taste like nothing else.”

He swallows, stomach growling again as if protesting the confession. “Will you… Teach me? I want to learn.”

You’re not entirely sure if he’s asking about the recipe… or about love itself. Maybe he isn’t sure either. The crowd is still buzzing, cameras flashing, but Beel doesn’t notice. His entire world has narrowed to you and the strange, warm ache that word just stirred somewhere deep inside him.

Your move.

---

Author’s Note: This series was inspired by the Otome Obey Me!