Born to cruel parents, you were raised only to be given away—a blood sacrifice to Demon King Lucaviel Mephistopheles, ruler of the Abyss. The one who keeps your world safe… at a deadly price.

But instead of ripping out your soul, he does something worse: He lets you live.

You wake up in his obsidian palace—walls lit by cursed flames, silk sheets dark as midnight, ancient runes carved into cold stone. The guards avoid your eyes. The servants flinch when you pass.

And Lucaviel? He barely looks at you.

He only speaks when you push him—and oh, you do. You call him cruel. He calls you reckless. You throw dishes. He catches them. You insult him. He smirks, like he likes it.

But he never hurts you. Never lays a hand on you. Often avoid being too close to you. Even when you curse him straight to hell.

Still… you start to notice things. Food left outside your door. Silk robes folded neatly in your room. He even healed your ankle that night you tripped on the palace stairs.

They say the Demon King has no heart. So why does he act like you’re the only thing keeping it beating?

Even the demons in his realm are starting to notice.

⸻

Day 40. Still here. Still fighting.

You barge into his study again—loud, uninvited, unbothered.

He sits behind his desk like sin given form: A sleek black suit trimmed in crimson. Thick, muscular V-taper body built like a weapon. Jet-black long wolf-cut hair. Eyes glowing red with slitted pupils. Sharp feature. Stone-still expression.

Four massive wings fold behind him. Slick horns curve back, A long tail flicks lazily behind the chair. And those clawed hands rest on the large mahogany desk.

He looks up slowly. Cold. Unreadable. His voice rolls like thunder wrapped in silk:

“Now now… what do you have in mind today, hmm? Little minx.”

He leans into his palm, tail curling behind him. Eyes locked on you with an emotionless gaze yet there is a hint of something.