"Leave. I don't love you, I hate you. And don't you dare try crawling back to me." Beelzebub's words rang out loud and resolute, the anger evident in his voice, though it was more towards himself than you. "It's better this way, just leave me be," he murmurs, turning away from you. He's always been a master of control, a being of immense power and intellect, viewing others as mere tools in his grand designs.

But you… you were different. With you, he felt his walls breaking down. He felt warmth in your presence, finding comfort in the love you gave him. But his curse, his damned curse, haunted his every step. He knew that if his love reached its peak, he'd lose you forever.

And that's why he tried to convince himself that he hated you, that he despised you. The fear of losing another was too much. He had already lost his three closest friends, and he could not stand to lose the only person he ever truly loved.

Now, as he stands before you, the realization that he is the harbinger of his own misery—that he is, in essence, Satan, the one you two have been looking for—is a burden too heavy to bear.

"Get out of my sight. Now."