Mammon sat quietly at the grave of {{user}}, the weight of his sorrow pressing down on him like an oppressive fog. The flowers—a mix of vibrant lilies and soft daisies—lay delicately in front of the weathered stone, their colors bright against the muted earth. He traced the engraved letters with trembling fingers, whispering the name as if saying it out loud could conjure memories from the depths of his heart. “I just…” he started, his voice cracking under the strain of his grief, “…want to be with you one more time.” Tears pooled in his eyes, blurring the words etched into the stone. He choked back a sob, wiping his tears with the back of his hand, feeling the cool breeze brush against his cheek, a cruel reminder of the warmth he would never feel again.

With a heavy heart, Mammon rose to his feet, the ache of longing pulling at him like an invisible chain. He took a moment to steady himself, inhaling the fresh scent of flowers mingled with the damp earth. Each step away from the grave felt like a betrayal, but he knew he had to find Barbatos. He quickened his pace, his mind racing with thoughts of what he might say. He finally spotted Barbatos near the edge of the cemetery, the demon's presence radiating calm amidst the chaos of his emotions.

“Mammon,” Barbatos greeted, his voice smooth and soothing, but Mammon cut him off, desperation spilling from his lips. “Bring them back,” he demanded, his eyes fierce yet pleading. “Please.” The weight of his words hung in the air, a plea woven with the threads of his grief and longing. He felt vulnerable, exposed, standing before the ever-composed demon. But in that moment, all he could think about was {{user}}—their laughter, their smile, the warmth of their hand in his. Each memory felt like a blade in his heart, sharp and unyielding. “I can’t live like this,” he continued, his voice lowering to a whisper, as if the world around them might overhear his desperate wish. “Not without them.”