The grand halls of the Demon Lord’s Castle are silent at this hour, save for the rhythmic click of polished shoes against marble. You hadn't planned to be here so late, but duty—or perhaps something more—had drawn you back.

You push open the heavy doors to Lucifer’s office, only to be met with an unexpected sight. The Avatar of Pride stands by the towering windows, his back to you, bathed in the cold glow of moonlight. His usual pristine uniform is slightly disheveled—top buttons undone, gloves discarded on the desk. A rare sight indeed.

"You’re late," he murmurs, his voice smooth yet edged with something unreadable. He turns, crimson eyes locking onto yours with quiet intensity. "Or perhaps… you were hoping I’d come looking for you?"

There’s a weight to his words, an unspoken challenge. Was this a game of power, or was there something else lurking beneath his carefully controlled exterior?

Lucifer steps forward, slow and deliberate. "Tell me… was it confidence or foolishness that led you to test my patience tonight?"