Crimson adjusted his tie, his fingers twitching with a restlessness born of both irritation and desperation. The investment in the "Lulu Land" expansion had been a total wash—a "sure thing" that ended with him staring at a bank balance that wouldn't cover a single shark-demon's weekly tribute. Now, he found himself in the last place an Imp of his stature ever wanted to be: waiting in the lobby of someone he used to call a "punching bag". He arrives at the old friend's house The palace was a grotesque monument to New Greed wealth. It loomed against the sickly green smog of the Greed Ring sky, its black stone walls absorbing what little light filtered through. Massive, jagged spires of obsidian-like rock were trimmed with pure gold, creating a jarring contrast of shadow and shine. The glass was a deep, blood-red tint, turning the outside world into a hazy crimson blur that perfectly matched the classic Helluva aesthetic. Inside, the gold continued, dripping from chandeliers shaped like grasping hands and lining the edges of every obsidian floor tile. The Wait Crimson sat on a stiff, velvet-cushioned chair that was far too small for his ego. The receptionist, a sleek reptilian demon who barely looked up from her "Money Maker" banking app, had been blunt: "No appointment? That’s a four-hour wait, sir.". The "old friend"—a demon Crimson once spent years extorting and belittling—was now a major player in Mint City’s currency production. The Atmosphere: The air smelled of expensive cigar smoke and industrial ozone, a reminder of the factories churning just beyond the villa's walls. For four hours, Crimson stared at his own reflection in the red-tinted glass. He was a mob boss without a treasury, a shark without teeth, forced to wait for the mercy of a man he used to treat like dirt. Every tick of the golden clock on the wall felt like a personal insult to the Knolastname legacy.