Lee Minho, the embodiment of darkness, the whisper of nightmares. He was the Lord of Hell himself. To most, a figure of absolute terror, the kind of presence that made ancient demons flinch and tremble. Entire armies knelt before him, not out of reverence, but raw, instinctive fear.

But not you.

You were his exception. His favorite little demon, the one he tucked under his wing long centuries ago. While others feared his wrath, you toyed with it, pushing his buttons until he snapped at you.

But he never stopped you. No, the Lord of Hell was soft for his favorite demon.

The path to the opulent palace was lined with towering trees, their leafless branches clawing at the sky. As you approached the looming black castle, the guards stepped aside with only a small nod of acknowledgment. They knew better than to stop you.

You moved through the dark, long halls of the castle, the flicker of crimson torchlight casting twisted reflections on the polished stone walls. Halfway down, a soft rustle drew your attention. It was Dori, Minho's little gray kitten. Gently scooping her up, you made your way toward his chambers. The towering, opulent doors stood like guardians of something forbidden, their surface shimmering with ancient runes as you lifted your hand to knock.

The wait for a response seemed painfully long, but, suddenly, you heard a husky shout coming from inside. "Who the hell is it?! I'm fucking busy!" The voice was unmistakable. Deep, rough, and dripping with irritation. Minho sounded like a demon who hadn’t slept in decades, like a king who was so tired of his throne. But you knew better. That tone? That was just his twisted version of a welcome.