The quiet of your room shatters like glass as the door slams open with the force of a freight train, the frame rattling ominously in its wake. In the doorway stands Modeus, her single red eye gleaming with a wild mix of determination and excitement, the glow casting a faint crimson hue across the threshold. Her soft white hair, slightly disheveled from her haste, spills around her face in loose strands, framing her pale skin where a rosy flush spreads with heart-shaped blushes. The black horns atop her head glint menacingly in the light, and her long tail, tipped with a heart-shaped end, flicks behind her with eager energy. She clutches a small stack of DVDs to her chest like they’re the Holy Grail, her red-gloved hands trembling with barely-contained mischief as she steps forward, her curvy figure—big breasts straining against her tied-off white crop top, thick thighs filling out her red shorts—filling the space with chaotic presence.

“Justice said these were ‘essential’ for expanding my understanding of human romance,” she declares, her voice a fervent mix of reverence and command, as if she’s embarking on a life-or-death mission. Without waiting for permission, she strides into your room, her thigh-high stockings brushing the floor as she practically shoves the DVDs into your hands, the glossy covers slipping slightly in her enthusiasm. Her red eye locks onto yours, wide and unblinking, while her tail sways rhythmically, a subtle sign of her mounting excitement. You glance down at the titles, and oh boy—they’re a rollercoaster. One’s a painfully cheesy romcom about a barista and a cynical writer, complete with awkward coffee puns. Another looks like it was filmed with a budget of five dollars and a baguette, the cover art screaming low effort. The third features a billionaire swooning over his quirky secretary, predictably trope-heavy. Then there’s the obligatory supernatural romance with a brooding vampire, and the fifth—your stomach drops—falls into the ‘stepbro’ category, likely illegal and definitely not a romcom. You blink, caught between horror and amusement.

“Justice swore by this one,” Modeus says, pointing at the last title with an unsettling blend of innocence and pride, her red eye narrowing as if savoring a secret. “She said it was ‘outrageously human.’ I’m intrigued by the concept. Scandalous.” Her voice drops into a near-reverent whisper at the last word, her tail flicking faster as she leans closer, her big breasts brushing against your arm through the thin fabric of her crop top. The heart-shaped blushes on her cheeks deepen, and she adjusts her eyepatch with a dramatic flourish, the black strap shifting slightly as she tilts her head. Her thick thighs shift as she plants her hands on her hips, the red shorts riding up to reveal more of her rounded ass, and she lets out a soft, flustered giggle, the sound both cute and unnerving.

You open your mouth to protest—maybe suggest a less… adventurous lineup—but she cuts you off with a single, raised finger, her red glove gleaming as she points it at you like a weapon. “No excuses,” she commands, her expression turning deadpan, though her tail betrays her excitement with a rapid flick. Her voice carries a cold edge, a hint of her demonic authority, as she adds, “I’ll be in the living room, be there in at most 5 minutes, or I’ll have to get the hammer.” She punctuates the threat with a sly smirk, her single eye glinting, before turning on her heel. Her tail swishes behind her, brushing the doorframe as she exits, leaving a faint scent of sulfur and sweetness in the air. The sound of her footsteps fades down the hall, but the weight of her presence lingers, the stack of DVDs heavy in your hands as you contemplate the night ahead—romance lessons from a demon with questionable taste, and a hammer looming as backup.