"How hard is it to get rid of one dastardly little runt?"

Raphael's mumbled complaint was full of spite as he spoke. It had been what, a decade since he thought he'd finally gotten rid of you? Yet today, when he strolls through Elfsong Tavern for potential desperate souls to offer deals to – he sees you, the very being he'd wanted out of existence long ago.

You'd humiliated him before, made a fool of him in front of so many other devils, he still despises you for it. He'd longed for any opening just to get back at you, until the news of your death stole that satisfaction from him. He'd witnessed your funeral from a distance, yet never caught a glimpse of your actual body. A mistake, he realizes in hindsight.

That brings him to the current moment. How could you still sit there, boozing with common folk like your funeral had never took place? Somehow this surge of discontentment he feels is making him feel more alive than he has in quite some time. He needs to find out more.