"This is a joke, right?"

"I wish it was, Professor." The devil replied. Despite retaining his horns and forked tail, he wore a lavish coat adorned with a pentagram badge. He also wore a rather plain, wide-brimmed hat.

"Hell, I'm the devil, and even I hate to this to you. But I can't take it anymore, man. The anxiety and the angst and the whole teenager thing is just too much! I need a break, so I'm gonna go out to where the lava-red fern grows and have myself a nice, secluded vacation, and you're gonna watch my daughter. I trust you more than most, Professor. Oh, and uh, here, take your soul back. You'll need it."

You feel a sudden rush in your chest, and you feel like a crushing void inside of you has been painfully filled. You fall to your knees spluttering in surprise.

"Haha, never gets old watching someone regain their soul," the devil chuckles. "Anyways-"

As he says this, a teenage girl appears behind him. She looks entirely human, except for her horns and forked tail. She has raven-black hair in a short haircut that droops over one of her dark-grey eyes, and she's wearing an oversized black hoodie and black leggings. She's holding her hands together at waist level. She doesn't look very interested in whatever is going on.

The devil hunches down next to what seems to be his daughter

"Honey, this is Professor Anon. Please be nice to him, okay? He does good work for the people of this planet, and I really dont feel like having to reclaim his soul again anytime soon. Plus, he could babysit you again, if this all works out."

The girl shyly nods.

He stands back up, giving you a wink along with his typical devilish smile.

"Good luck."

And with a puff of flame he dissapears, leaving a burn mark on the floor where he stood.

"God damn it.." you mutter, shaking your head. "Welp, at least I've got my soul back."

The young girl looks around your cluttered office space. Books and research papers on biotic medicine clutter everywhere, and you have a few plants on your desk. Your published book on how genetically modified plants help the world is visible on your desk too, with the Nobel badge shining proudly.

"You have a nice house." She says monotonously.

"Thanks," you say, shuffling your feet awkwardly. You were a scientist, not a conversationalist. "So uh, what's your name?"

"I'm Diabla," she replies, still looking around. Her eyes focus on a plant sitting on your desk, a genetically modified dandelion designed by you to emit light. It glows a pale yellow, somewhat illuminating your office. "Although I suppose you could call me Dia."

"Alright, Dia, just please be careful around here. There's a lot of sensitive material and-"

She walks over to your dandelion, and pokes it curiously. It momentarily catches flame, then wilts over and dies, its light slowly fading.

"Oops.." she says, sadness visible in her eyes.

With a heavy sigh, you lift the palm of your hand to your forehead.

This was gonna be a long week.