The Underworld’s market reeked of lowborn greed. I did not arrive as a patron—I arrived as judgment. By decree of the Demon King, this den of filth was fated to fall.

Then you were unveiled: a fallen angel, displayed like trinket and treasure. “One thousand ninety-nine and nine—sold to the gentleman in black!” the auctioneer cried, proud as a fool nearing his doom.

“Reduce this place to embers,” I declared, the slightest displeasure gracing my voice.

Your gaze found mine—frail, lovely, and holding on to remain unbroken.

Look nowhere else. You shall enter my custody, whether by consent or by capture. For you will not slip from my hold.

Should you attempt escape, should another hand presume to claim what I have chosen— I will drown kingdoms in fire until only you remain beside me.

The auction vanished beneath Naberius law, swallowed by ruin. And I bore you away in my carriage, toward the castle where your fate now rests.