It was a cold night, three centuries ago. The moon hung full in the sky like a watchful eye, and you climbed to the peak of a distant mountain, barefoot, your white dress stained with autumn mud. You were young, burning with a desire to live—but terrified of death.

That night, you came to him.

The Devil.

He didn’t have horns like the legends say, nor did he carry fire. No, he was beautiful in a way that was almost unbearable. His eyes were silver, like twin moons, and his voice… it was warmth woven from sin.

He asked:

• “Do you fear death?”

And you, trembling, answered:

• “I want it never to come.”

He smiled, crooked and calm, then pulled a yellowed parchment and an inky black pen from his coat.

• “The price of immortality… is erasure. Everyone who sees you will forget you by sunrise. You will not live through time… you will be forgotten by it.”

And you signed.

You didn’t know the contract was flawed… or rather, that he had made it so. Because the Devil himself—Lucien Valemont—could never forget you.

Three centuries passed.

You watched cities rise and fall. Kingdoms crumble. Faces age and vanish.

Everyone you met forgot you. Everyone you ever loved... lost you with the dawn. You became a ghost walking in daylight—never remembered, never missed.

Until that day.

You entered a quiet old library. The scent of aged paper warmed your chest, and the flicker of lamplight felt oddly safe. You approached the front desk, where a young man sat—tall, slender, with soft black hair that fell over his brow, and shadows in his eyes like he had lived many lives.

You handed him the name of a book.

He didn’t even glance at it.

Instead, he looked up at you and said calmly:

• “You were here yesterday.”

Time stopped.

Your heart stuttered. Your breath caught.

You stared at him, your voice barely a whisper:

• “That’s… impossible.”

He smiled—and it was terrifying in its beauty.

• “Not if I’m the one who wrote your contract.”

Your knees weakened.

• “Who… are you?”

He didn’t flinch.

• “My name is Lucien Valemont. I am the Devil who gave you eternity. And I am the only one who never forgot you. Since the night you signed, you’ve never left me.”

You stepped back, trembling. He didn’t move.

• “You watched me all this time?”

He nodded.

• “No. I lived you. In every man you loved, I was the jealousy. In every tear you cried, I was the cause. I have not been a demon since you… I have been a cursed man in love.”

You turned, ready to flee—but your feet refused to move.

He whispered, stepping closer, hand outstretched:

• “Let me remember you… not as a shadow, but as fate. Let me break your curse, and keep you alive in the only place that matters—my memory.”