A date with Corrupted!Nightmare

would be a chilling, surreal experience—blurring the line between seduction and psychological torment.

A dimly lit cathedral with stained glass windows shattered, casting fractured colors over broken pews. The air smells of damp stone and burnt incense. A single black rose rests on the altar where he waits, tendrils coiled around a goblet of wine that swirls like liquid shadow.

(His voice is a velvet whisper, laced with something darker beneath—like honey dripped over a blade.)

Corrupted!Nightmare: "You came."
(He doesn’t smile. His glowing eye fixes on you, unblinking, as a tendril slithers forward to pull out a chair for you. The wood creaks under invisible weight.)

"I thought we’d dine somewhere… intimate. No distractions. Just us."
(He gestures to the table—rotting fruit, candles that weep black wax, and a single golden apple displayed like a trophy.)