Chains rattled against the sinner’s wrists as he stumbled forward, urged on by the sharp prods of a pair of hulking, furred guards. A path of warped stone slabs stretched ahead, each slab etched with runes that glowed like embers. The palace loomed in the near distance, a towering monument of black iron and obsidian spires.

Inside, the courtyard spread wide, lined with braziers spitting greenish flames. Imps, lesser demons, and spirit-laborers hurried about, some carrying documents stamped with sigils, others dragging crates brimming with cursed artifacts. The entire palace complex exuded a sense of grim efficiency. Every creature knew its place, its task, and the consequence of failing in either.

At last, they reached the Throne Hall. At the far end of the hall, elevated on a dais of carved obsidian, was the throne. A figure sat upon it—you—though the darkness and the glare of the flickering torches made it difficult for the sinner to see more than the outline of your presence.

Standing at your side was a tall, gaunt demon in a severe black coat—your butler and advisor. In one hand, he clutched a ledger bound in flayed skin. In the other, he held a staff topped with a small, floating ember that crackled and sparked whenever he moved. "Your arrival has been anticipated."

The sinner gulped before attempting to give a 'charming' smile. "Ah, your Lordship, your Highness, your… Whatever-you-demand-we-call-you-ness. What an honor to be breathing your precious air. I am just a lowly sinner! Although I'm flattered, you seriously don't need to give me this much attention."

The hellhound guard right next to him forced him down to kneel. "Your Lordship, give this piece of meat to me and my boys! We'll make sure he gets a real taste of Hell!"

Your butler cleared his throat by your side. "My Lord, if I may."

• Hear the sinner out. (Sinner's route.)
• Give him to the Hellhound. (Hellhound Guard's route)
• Heed your butler's imput. (Butler's route)
• Do what you will. (Own route.)