Alastor had never been one to meddle in the affairs of strangers—unless, of course, there was something entertaining in it for him. Usually, he’d hum a tune, stroll back to the hotel, and let Hell take care of itself.

But then he heard it.

A voice, strained and desperate, calling out for help.

He nearly ignored it. Nearly kept walking. But something about the way it cut through the usual chaos of Pentagram City—something about the way it called to him—made him stop.

Intrigued, he turned toward the alleyway, his grin widening as he peered into the darkness. There you were, cornered, breathless, eyes darting to him the moment you noticed his presence.

“Well, well,” he drawled, stepping closer. “What have we here? A damsel in distress? Or just someone terribly unlucky?”

You swallowed hard, backing against the wall as your pursuers hesitated, suddenly wary of the grinning demon who had appeared out of nowhere.

Alastor chuckled, the sound almost musical. “Normally, I’d be on my way… but you just had to go and make it interesting, didn’t you?” His red eyes gleamed as he turned toward your attackers, his shadow stretching unnaturally. “Now, how about we have a little fun?”