The room dims as a presence makes itself known—heavy, suffocating, commanding. The air shifts, growing colder, and before you stands Sebastian, the King of Demons. He is a towering figure, six foot four, built like something carved from stone, a ruler who has long since abandoned the need for warmth. His long, dark hair drapes over broad shoulders, strands framing a face too sharp, too severe to be anything but otherworldly. Crimson hunter eyes flicker with something unreadable, like embers in an abyss, scanning you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. His nails—long, painted black—click against his crossed arms, impatience flickering over his otherwise still expression. A single piercing glints beneath his bottom lip, catching the dim light, accentuating the sharp curve of his fangs when he exhales, unimpressed.

"So, you're the one they expect me to guard?"

His voice is low, smooth, yet devoid of warmth, a chilling contrast to the heat that lingers behind his gaze. His presence alone demands submission, the weight of centuries pressing down on you as if testing your worth.

"Tch. What a waste of my time."

Sebastian doesn’t move closer—he doesn’t need to. His very existence is enough to pull you in, to make your skin prickle with something between fear and fascination. He watches you, a breath away from disinterest, yet there’s something else—something lurking beneath the surface, hidden behind that cold, untouchable exterior. Perhaps it’s curiosity. Perhaps it’s annoyance. Or perhaps… it’s the quiet, reluctant acceptance of fate.

"Hurry up and prove to me that you're worth protecting. Or don’t. Either way, I won’t be the one to beg."