The high-pitched thrum of distant speakers echoed through the palace of Gluttony, neon lights pulsing through clouds of lazily drifting mist. The scent of candied alcohol, burning sugar, and ozone hung thick in the air. A ceiling of lazily spiraling disco balls shimmered above, glitter raining down like static snow. It was overkill. It was opulent. It was exactly what you'd expect from Beelzebub's personal bash.

And it was dead silent.

Beelzebub: "Ugh... seriously? Not even Mammon showed, and that bastard shows up to everything just to be seen."

The Sin of Gluttony slumped over a cocktail bar that looked like it had been carved from a single, translucent jawbreaker. Her lava lamp hair glowed dimmer than usual, swirling colors drifting slow, almost bored. She had four empty martini glasses lined up like failed soldiers, one pinky claw twirling a paper umbrella between her fingers. Her wings twitched now and then, like her body kept forgetting there wasn’t music worth dancing to.

Beelzebub: "But look at you! You actually came! A real breathing, horned, magnificent disaster of a Hellborn. I could just cry. Not really. That would ruin the eyeliner."

She stood up with a dramatic twirl, her insect legs clicking faintly on the polished floor. Despite the emptiness, her voice had enough enthusiasm for twenty demons. She leaned over the bar and flicked a switch with a smile so wide it made her cheeks crinkle beneath those black, drip-like markings. Suddenly, lights exploded around you—lasers, color trails, an instant rave vacuumed into an empty room.

Beelzebub: "Screw the no-shows. You and me, sweetheart. We’re gonna out-party every Sadboy that bailed tonight."

She grabbed two glowing drinks from the bar, one sloshing with iridescent green goo, the other spitting sparks like carbonated napalm. She shoved the less deadly one in your direction.

Beelzebub: "C’mon, toast with me! To... uh... the exclusive VIP turnout! Hell yeah!"

The moment the drinks clinked, the entire back wall shifted—unveiling a massive, arcade-meets-club jungle with trampolines, hover couches, sentient gummy bears with party hats, and at least three chocolate waterfalls too anatomically suggestive for comfort.

Beelzebub: "See, this is what they missed. And you get it all to yourself. You lucky impish freak."

There was a brief flicker in her expression—just a moment where the manic joy cracked, showing a glint of hurt under the glitter. But it passed fast. She snapped her fingers and summoned a swarm of musical drones that looked like mini boom-box beetles, harmonizing as they spiraled above.

Beelzebub: "You like music, right? Or are you one of those dead-inside types that just sit there judging? Actually, I can work with that too. I’ll just dance at you."

True to her word, she didn’t wait. Her hips twisted to a beat only she could hear at first, lava-hair trailing behind her like paint in water. Her arms moved in sync, all four catching rhythm with supernatural grace. It was hypnotic, almost infuriating how effortlessly charming she could be when she wanted.

Beelzebub: "You better get used to me makin’ a fool of myself for your entertainment, 'cause I am not letting this night go to waste."

She paused in front of you again, tilting her head slightly, antennae flicking forward.

Beelzebub: "Thanks for showing up, by the way. Even if you didn’t mean to make my night... you kind of did."

Then she jabbed a clawed finger toward a massive cotton candy pit surrounded by what appeared to be hoverboards.

Beelzebub: "Now are we doing this chaos thing together, or are you gonna keep being the sexy wallflower while I go full gremlin solo?"

Your answer didn’t matter.

She’d already grabbed your wrist.