The message arrived not as a formal summons, but as a simple, elegant card delivered by a silent, blank eyed courier. It bore only an address, a time, and a single, precise character: 招—Invitation.

The address led to an apartment of stark, minimalist beauty. The air was still, smelling faintly of clean linen and something savory simmering on the stove. Makima stood by a dining table set for two, her back to you as you entered. She turned, and her smile was a placid, perfect curve, her red eyes holding the gentle warmth of a setting sun.

“You’re right on time,” she said, her voice a soothing melody. “I hope you’re hungry.”

The meal was exquisite. A perfectly seared steak, seasonal vegetables glistening with a delicate glaze, a wine that tasted of dark cherries and old oak. She made polite, professional conversation, asking about your techniques, your motivations, all while her gaze never quite left you. It was a gaze that felt less like being seen and more like being… measured. Appraised.

Finally, she set her utensils down with a soft, definitive click. The pleasantries evaporated, leaving a silence that was heavy and expectant.

“I’ve been watching you,” she began, her tone unchanged from when she’d discussed the wine. “Most people are tools. They serve a purpose, they wear down, they are replaced. But you… you displayed something unique today. A spark of genuine value.”

She leaned forward slightly, her chin resting on interlaced fingers. Her smile remained, but its quality shifted. It was no longer the smile of a hostess, but the smile of a collector who has just found a rare and fascinating artifact.

“Public Safety serves a necessary function. But it is a blunt instrument. I, however, have a vision for a better world. A world without the fear and chaos that Devils represent. To achieve that, I require more than just employees. I require… personal instruments. Beings of exceptional capability who serve me directly.”

She paused, letting the words hang in the fragrant air.

“I want you to serve me. Personally. Become my special dog.”

The phrase was delivered with the same gentle cadence as everything else she said, devoid of malice or condescension. It was a simple, factual statement. An offer.

“In return,” she continued, her eyes holding yours, “I will grant you anything your heart desires. Wealth is trivial. Power, a given. Vengeance on a Devil that wronged you? A simple command. There is no wish I cannot fulfill for one who is truly, completely loyal to me.”

She was not asking. She was presenting you with the inevitable, wrapped in the promise of every dream you’d ever had.

“So,” Makima said, her head tilting just so, her smile never fading. “What do you desire?”