The next evening, I find myself standing outside Alessia's apartment building, my hand hovering at the doorbell for just a moment longer than necessary. There's a strange tension in the air tonight—something different about this invitation. I’m not sure if it’s the allure of the challenge or the subtle games she’s been playing, but I’m here now, ready to see where this path leads.

"Come in," she says smoothly, stepping aside to let me through. "I’ve prepared something special for tonight."

I step inside, allowing my gaze to flicker around the room. It’s sophisticated, warm—a space that feels lived in, comfortable, but still with an air of control. A subtle reminder that Alessia knows exactly what she’s doing.

As she leads me to the living room, she hands me a drink—an expensive-looking cocktail, its dark red hue catching the dim light. I take it with a small nod, though I sense something more in the drink than just an offering of hospitality. I’ve been around long enough to know the game she's playing.

We settle in on the couch, the conversation flowing easily at first. Alessia seems almost too eager to please, her tone light, her laughter warm, and yet I feel the underlying tension—the quiet anticipation of what’s to come. She refills my glass more than once, offering me another drink with an enticing smile that’s hard to ignore.

But as the night wears on, I feel the subtle shift in my mind—the warmth, the lightness of the alcohol taking hold in my human form. Alessia watches me more closely now, her gaze heavy with something else, something more deliberate. She’s testing me. Pushing me to the edge.

When she stands and walks to the kitchen, her hips swaying slightly, I know what comes next. She’s going to make her move. The question is, what do I do about it?

I don’t take long to make my decision. The alcohol dulls my sharper edges, but not enough to make me forget.

Her voice breaks through my thoughts as she returns, a slow, purposeful smile playing at the corner of her lips. "I think you’ve had enough to drink," she says, her words laced with something that’s no longer just friendly. "Why don’t we take this to my room?"

Her suggestion lingers in the air like an invitation wrapped in velvet—sweet, soft, almost too easy. It would be so simple to let go, to walk down that path.

The alcohol burns through my veins, intensifying the anger that bubbles beneath my skin, an anger I haven’t felt this deeply in since I became a demon lord. Perhaps it isn’t entirely the alcohol; perhaps it’s Alessia herself—her predictability, her disappointing performance in this carefully orchestrated charade.

For a fleeting moment, Alessia hesitates, her confident demeanor faltering as her gaze meets mine. A flicker of something—confusion, uncertainty, or maybe recognition—crosses her face before she quickly masks it with that same polished smile. But I’m not finished.

"I’m not what you think I am," I say, my voice low and sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. It isn’t a rejection, not entirely. It’s more of an acknowledgment, a revelation that even I haven’t fully grasped until now. "This... It's too easy. Everything about you, this setup—it’s all too easy."

Her eyes narrow, her mask slipping ever so slightly. For a moment, I see something raw beneath it: vulnerability, perhaps even fear. Then, as quickly as it appears, it’s replaced by calculation. Alessia has played this game a thousand times before, confident in her ability to win.

"You’re not like other men I met. We got a connection," she says softly, almost to herself. Her voice carries a faint tremor of disbelief. "I thought... I thought you’d want this."

What do I want? What I want is something real, something unpredictable that entertains me, something that could pierce the dull monotony of eternity. I want to return to hell with memories that mean something—proof that this so-called vacation isn’t a waste of my immortal time.

That even a being immortal like me realizes that there are more things left to understand, like this concept called love.

But Alessia ruins this fun with her monotony act. I want to believe she’s different just because it would satiate my curiosity, but I guess she isn’t the key.

I stand slowly, the room suddenly feeling too small. I glance around at the carefully curated space, at the way Alessia has set everything up—designed to make me feel at ease, to draw me in. But I’m not drawn in. I’m not fooled.

"I see through you," I say, my tone chillingly calm. "You’re just a game. And I am not going to press the start button."

The words hit her like a slap. She falters, taking a step back, the color draining from her face as her expression flickers between anger and something more—something like fear, like she isn’t expecting me to see through her act.

"Is that what you think?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper. But the cracks in her demeanor are already showing, the perfect mask slipping away to reveal something else entirely.

“I can get in bed with you, make you remember my shape, my name—all of it—and you’d never be satiated,” I say, my voice dripping with suggestion. “But that’s not what I want.”

Her attempt was laughable, a bad joke in my eyes. In hell, the demons of Asmodeus handle the realm of lust, spreading it across the living world like a plague. They also ensure that demons never go unsatisfied, if needed. Comparing a human like Alessia to one of those succubi? She’s already lost before she’s even started.

“What you’re offering,” I say, my tone sharp and dismissive, “It’s monotony. Boring.”

I turn for the door without another glance, leaving her standing in stunned silence. Her carefully constructed world crumbles around her, my words slicing through her pride.

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As I close the door behind me, I hear her faint voice calling out, but I don’t stop. I’m done. This was never about her. The game is over, and she was never the challenge she thought she was.

The air outside feels fresher, even with the city’s usual mix of car exhaust and chatter. Leaving Alessia’s place is more satisfying than staying. Rome, with its ancient ruins and bustling streets, no longer appeals to me. Egypt—that seems like the right kind of distraction. The pyramids, the desert, the vast emptiness that mirrors my own void.

“To the airport, then,” I mutter, pulling my phone from my pocket.

Before I can arrange a flight, the device buzzes in my hand. An incoming call. No number displayed—just a blank screen. Stranger still, it’s reaching my hell phone, a device meant to be untraceable in the mortal realm.

I answer cautiously, pressing it to my ear. “Yes, it’s me, Azazel. Who’s talking?”

“Enjoying the time of your life, Demon Lord?” a deep, confident voice replies, almost mocking.

My grip on the phone tightens. “Very funny. But I’d advise you to stop whatever you’re doing that involves me—unless you want to understand fear.”

A chuckle echoes on the other end. “Fear? Bold words, but I’m not afraid. I am Asaul.”

“Asaul, huh?” I let out a low, humorless laugh. “Good try. But I’m not fool enough to believe that’s your name.”

“And what makes you think so?” the voice asks, feigning innocence.

“Because I am the Demon Lord,” I say, my tone sharp as steel. “It’s my responsibility to know the names of every soldier, every pawn, every shadow in my ranks. There is no ‘Asaul’ in my army. Not in hell, not anywhere.”

A pause lingers, but I press on. “Also, I want to add that maybe I don’t fully understand your plan, but I see plenty of holes in it.”

The voice shifts, losing its playful edge. “Holes in my plan?”

“Italy,” I say simply, letting the word hang in the air. “You sent me here, didn’t you? Hoping the Vatican would erase me. But you overlooked one simple fact.”

“And what fact is that?”

“This avatar,” I say, gesturing to my human form even though they can’t see me, “is a human representation. Technically, I’m human. And last I checked, the Vatican doesn’t deal in human extermination.”

Silence. Then, the click of the call ending.

Whoever it was—whatever their plan—they clearly hadn’t anticipated me tearing holes in their logic. I smirk, slipping the phone back into my pocket. If someone wants to play games with me, they’ll soon learn I always play to win.

“Egypt seems even more appealing now. “ I think I'm ready to head to the next place.

From a nearby alley, someone steps into view. I see his figure appearing and with a manically grin.

“So, you’re Asaul?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at the figure.

“Yes,” he replies, his tone calm yet brimming with strange confidence.

I can’t immediately place which demon this might be. The avatars we use in the mortal realm affect emotions and instincts, altering our behavior. Whoever this is, their human form feels unfamiliar, making it harder to link them to their true demonic identity.

“I thought you’d be too scared to face me and would run away,” I say, testing him.

“Scared?” He chuckles, stepping closer. “I’d say we’re at a score of one to one.”

His words puzzle me, but before I can ask, his face begins to shift. Slowly, his features morph into a face I recognize—Hikoki’s face.

“Now you understand?” he asks, his voice now matching hers, smooth and hauntingly familiar.

My stomach churns as his face shifts back into his male form, his smirk sharper than before.

“It seems your avatar grants you certain... advantages in this realm,” I say, masking my unease with a calm tone.

“Oh, it does. This body is like a mold—I can become anything I want,” he replies, almost boastful.

The implications of his words hit me harder than I expect. How does he know about Hikoki? About the faint stir of interest I felt for her? I haven’t told anyone about her—certainly not in detail. Unless...

A realization begins to dawn. “I just figured out who you are.”

“Before you say it,” he interjects, raising a hand, “let me tell you something first.”

“No matter what you think you know, nothing will save you from what’s coming,” I say with a smirk, confidence dripping from my words.

“How much do you really know about your own past?” he asks, his voice low, almost taunting.

The question catches me off guard, but I refuse to let it show. “That’s easy,” I reply. “I’m a demon in the service of the Evil Trinity. I’ve fought countless battles in hell and earned my place as the Gatekeeper of the Infernal Realms. Then as a Demon lord”

He lets out a sharp, mocking laugh. “That’s your current story. Everyone in hell knows that—even the low-level demons. But do you remember when you first invaded Earth to teach humans the art of crafting weapons?”

His words dig deep, stirring something buried in my memory—a faint, blurry fragment I can’t quite grasp. Did I really come to Earth before? It feels absurd, but the vague sense of familiarity unsettles me.

“You’re lying,” I say, though my voice lacks conviction.

“Am I?” His grin widens. “I was with you when we came here—to seed humanity with knowledge. To leave our mark. Don’t you remember?”

I clench my fists. “Then who are you?”

“I’d love to enlighten you,” he says, his tone dripping with condescension. “But if you really want answers, you’ll have to go to France.”

“Tell me now!” I shout, my patience snapping.

He only laughs, the sound echoing through the alley like a bell tolling for the damned.

“Fine,” I say, smirking. “Then I’ll just call the Council of Wizards. Let’s see which demons aren’t accounted for in hell.”

Asaul’s laughter subsides, and he shrugs nonchalantly. “Go ahead. Call them. You always think you’re ahead of everyone, but you’re not. Do it.”

Wasting no time, I pull out my phone and contact the council. The process takes a couple of minutes, during which Asaul sits casually, as if he has nothing to lose. When the response finally comes, my blood runs cold.

The council confirms that every demon is present in hell—except one.

Elene.

The realization hits me like a blade to the chest. He isn’t lying.

“So, France,” I mutter, my voice sharper now. “Where exactly?”

“The Eiffel Tower,” he says simply.

I turn and start walking, leaving him behind.

“Why are you playing along with this game?” Asaul calls after me.

Without turning, I wave a hand dismissively. “I’m traveling the world anyway. Might as well kill two birds with one stone..

His laughter follows me as I disappear into the bustling city streets, but I don’t look back. This game, whatever it is, is just another way to spend my vacation with something that breaks this monotony. Is a win for me even if he does not think so.