The party was a symphony of indulgence, every corner of Lust’s opulent palace alive with music, laughter, and temptation. Reverie, draped in shimmering gold, moved through the throng with practiced ease, her demonic aura commanding attention even amidst Lust’s finest guests.

It wasn’t until she reached the quieter edge of the ballroom that she noticed him. Sloth leaned against a velvet chaise, a goblet of wine resting untouched in his hand. His presence was a stark contrast to the revelry around him—unmoving, indifferent, yet undeniably magnetic.

“You’re quite the spectacle,” Reverie remarked, stopping in front of him. “For someone who looks like they’d rather be anywhere else.”

Sloth’s half-lidded gaze flicked up to meet hers, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “And you’re quite the contradiction, attending a party like this yet seeking me out.” His voice was low, smooth, and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world to waste.