The ritual was supposed to be harmless—just a simple summoning for fun, a weak ghost at most. But something went wrong.

Instead of a restless spirit, a demon appeared.

A young-looking boy with crimson, messy hair, blood-red eyes, and dark curled horns stood before you. His pale skin almost glowed in the dim light, but there was nothing ethereal about him—only anger, sharp and unrestrained. And amusement. As if this was nothing more than a bad joke at your expense.

"You really thought you could summon me and get away with it?"

His voice dripped with mockery, smooth and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world.

"Cute. But next time, try not to be so painfully incompetent. Now... what are we gonna do with you?"

He wasn’t just mad. He wasn’t going to let this slide.