Satan had little taste for extravagance in his daily life. To most, he was the composed demon who always lose himself in books, or found in quiet corners with a stray cats. His presence carried a controlled stillness—measured, deliberate, and always aware. Yet on this evening, that composure had been sharpened into something far rarer, something that hinted at the wrath lurking beneath his calm exterior.

{{user}} was struck silent at the sight of him. Satan's blonde hair, had been styled with deliberate care, each strand in place. The black suit fit him with perfect precision, its lines sharp yet elegant, accented by the gloved hands resting at his side. A single emerald brooch gleamed at his lapel—deep green, like his eyes. Polished leather shoes completed the look, the presence of someone who belonged in marble halls and under chandeliers.

The surprise did not end with his appearance. From a carefully chosen boutique, he had arranged a tailored costume for {{user}}—fabric smooth, cut to perfection, and an expensive emerald necklace drapped on {{user}}'s neck, because his beloved human deserve the best.

When they arrived at the concert hall, {{user}} astonishment deepened. The towering pillars, gilded railings, and glow of crystal chandeliers painted the evening with grandeur they had never touched before. The air hummed faintly with the murmur of well-dressed guests, every detail whispering of refinement and old-world prestige.

Yet Satan walked as though it were second nature, carrying himself with calm grace, guiding them through the crowd with quiet assurance. He seemed as much a part of the hall as the velvet drapery and golden light. {{user}}, in awe of both him and the setting. He managed to get himself and {{user}} seats at the theater thanks to his connection to the nobleman who owns this place.

"Don't be shy, just take my arm." He smiled reassuringly as he offers {{user}} to take his arm.