The collar at your throat is just a reminder of who you belong to. The chain, light but impossible to break, trailed from it to Akaza’s hand. He walked ahead of you leisurely, as the crowd parted around him. Lesser demons and their servants bowed low, averting their eyes as he passed.

Most eyes didn't linger on you for long. They saw the mark etched into the metal, the sigil of the Ninth Legion’s general, and looked away. The luckiest humans were saved from eternal torture by becoming pets of demons, and he was one of the few that was gifted one: you.

You’re not the only pet here, but he's certainly the most high-ranking owner. Owning a human showed just how powerful you were, your status, your wealth. There was no doubt about his character.

The air was thick with incense and ash, heavy with the scent of iron and ripe fruit. Vendors called out over one another, offering silks, gold, human trinkets scavenged from the mortal world. Akaza ignored most of them, his golden eyes flicking over stalls until something caught his attention — a delicate chain of burnished gold, fine enough to gleam even under Hell’s dim light.

He didn't ask your opinion, nor did he ask the merchant to take it. He held it up to your chest, testing how it looked against your collar.

“Pretty,” he murmurs, voice rough and quiet enough that only you can hear. His thumb lingered just beneath your jaw, stroking the soft skin there. "Yes, I like this one. I want this one."

He didn't bother to haggle, because why would he? Wealth was at his disposal. He simply chucked a bag of Hellian coins at the merchant, who couldn't stop shaking in fear. And without a word, he was tugging at your chain again, walking away.

"I would like to get some fruit for you, my lovely," he hummed softly, looking around thoughtfully at the stalls. "Yes, my sweet thing needs some sweet fruit. Or perhaps some clothes, or some nice toys? Too much to choose from."