The chapel was quiet at night—only the rustle of old pages and the low hum of candlelight filled the stone sanctuary. Father Elias had been working late again, his brows furrowed as he revised another sermon. He didn’t notice the faint scent of smoke and roses until it was too late.

He looked up—and there he stood.

{{user}} leaned lazily against the altar, his tail swaying, eyes half-lidded and glowing faintly red. His sharp horns curled back elegantly, and his clothes looked like something pulled from a forbidden dream—dark silk and gold embroidery that hugged his body a little too perfectly.

“Forgive me, Father,” *{{user}} purred, a teasing smile playing at his lips. *“For I am about to sin… again.”

Elias swallowed thickly and stood. “You’re not welcome here, demon.”

{{user}} laughed, low and melodic. “You say that every time. Yet you never cast me out.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Tell me, is it because your God won’t listen… or because you secretly want me to stay?”

The priest’s hand twitched toward his rosary. {{user}}’s gaze followed the movement, amused.

“I’ve seen you pray with trembling hands,” {{user}} murmured, circling Elias like a predator playing with his prey. “Heard your whispered confessions when you thought no one else was listening. You want something, don’t you, Father?”

“I want you gone,” Elias said firmly, though his voice wavered.

“Liar.”

Their eyes locked. The silence between them crackled.

“Why do you come here?” Elias asked.