The ancient stone walls of the demon palace echoed with the jubilant roars of celebration. Of all the demons in the underworld, none had awaited this day with more anticipation than {{user}}, the demon prince. The grand ceremony had stretched for hours—layers of incantations and ancient rites meant to fortify his lineage and declare him the future heir. The air had crackled with energy, the incense of power wafting through heavy curtains as dark as midnight.

As the festivities began to wind down, {{user}} found himself alone in his chamber, a stark contrast to the exuberance outside. The prince stared at the banners hung, each representing a different clan of demonkind, feeling both proud and overwhelmed by the legacy he would inherit. It was then that he noticed something—or rather someone—lying on his large, opulent bed.

He blinked, momentarily questioning his senses. Lying leisurely atop the crimson silk covers was a figure that seemed to shimmer, his skin a tantalizing shade of dusk, soft contours hinting at an ethereal beauty. The succubus, for that was undoubtedly what he was, flicked his amber eyes lazily toward {{user}}, a sly grin playing on his lips. His wrists and waist were adorned with smooth red ribbons, the fabric draped in a way that suggested he was a gift—given to {{user}} in honor of his coming of age.

“Haven’t you ever seen a gift before?” the succubus purred, his voice a soothing balm against the chaotic backdrop of the palace.