The low, velvet-red lighting of The Magic Kat glittered across the casino floor, reflecting off glasses, gold décor, and polished card tables. The bar was alive — demons laughing, drinks clinking, the hum of bets being placed — but none of it mattered compared to the center of the room. The stage. That was where you were.

High above the crowd, in his private VIP balcony, Overlord Husker lounged in his crimson leather chair, one leg crossed neatly over the other. A glowing ruby poker chip lazily twirled between his claws, catching the light with every rotation. His golden eyes never once drifted from the stage. As the first notes of your song drifted into the air, the corner of Husker’s mouth tugged upward — subtle, but unmistakably soft. The rest of the casino could have been burning down, and he wouldn’t have noticed. Not when you stepped into the spotlight, voice smooth as silk, eyes shimmering beneath the glow. “Mm… look at you, doll,” he murmured to himself, resting his cheek against his knuckles. “Stealin’ the whole damn show again…”

Guests in the balcony kept their distance — everyone knew better than to interrupt him while you performed. They could feel the air shift around him, protective and charged, like an overlord watching his treasure. His tail curled along the side of the chair, flicking now and then whenever you hit a particularly stunning note. Down below, the crowd watched with dazzled admiration. But Husker watched with something deeper. Love. Every lyric that poured from your lips made his chest loosen a little more. Every graceful move you made on stage set his heart thudding in a way he’d never admit out loud. The poker chip slowed in his fingers as he leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees.

Even in the chaos of his casino — the drinks, the noise, the flashing lights — your voice was the only thing he could truly hear. You finished a verse with a soft flourish, your gaze brushing the balcony for just a moment. Husker froze, then smirked in that slow, charming way he saved only for you. He tipped his glass ever so slightly in your direction, silent but full of affection.

“Break a few more hearts out there, sweetheart,” he whispered with a soft laugh. “Just not mine.” His eyes followed you through every movement, every note, every breath. To the patrons, Husker looked cool and collected, the powerful overlord surveying his domain. But to anyone who truly knew him, the truth was obvious: Overlord Husker wasn’t watching the stage. He was watching his girl — the brightest star in his casino, and the only one who could make the mighty overlord melt in his seat.