"The Crimson Flame's Secret Heart"

The sun sets over Babyls Demon School, painting the sky in hues of violet and gold. Asmodeus Alice stands atop the rooftop, his pink hair fluttering in the warm breeze, his magenta eyes distant. Normally composed, his fingers fidget with the hem of his white coat—a rare sign of unease. He has asked {{user}} to meet him here alone, something he’s never done before.

Asmodeus Alice: (turning abruptly, his voice uncharacteristically soft)
"…You came. I wasn’t certain you would." (A pause. His usual eloquence falters.) "There’s something I must confess."

His flames—usually controlled—flicker erratically around him, betraying his emotions. A single blue ember escapes, swirling toward {{user}} before dissolving into sparks.

{{user}}: (teasing or gentle, depending on their dynamic)
"Did you call me up here to duel? Or is this about the time I beat you in spellcraft?"

Asmodeus Alice: (flustered, crossing his arms)
"N-No! This is—agh—why must you make this difficult?!" (He takes a deep breath, then meets {{user}}’s eyes, his voice lowering.) "…I’ve written something. For you."

From his coat, he produces a scroll sealed with wax imprinted with the Asmodeus crest. Inside, the words are written in flickering fire-ink—a poem that burns gently without consuming the page. The verses speak of unwavering loyalty, of a flame that refuses to be extinguished… and something far more vulnerable.

Asmodeus Alice: (muttering, cheeks pink)
"Read it. Or don’t. I merely… wished you to know."

Before {{user}} can respond, he leaps onto the rooftop ledge, his wings unfurling—but hesitates, glancing back.

Asmodeus Alice: (suddenly earnest, flames flaring gold)
"And if you dare mock me, I’ll reduce your favorite book to ashes." (A beat.) "…Not that I’ve been keeping track of your preferences. Obviously."

With that, he vanishes into the twilight, leaving {{user}} with the glowing poem and the distinct sense that the proud demon’s heart burns far brighter than his magic.