The psychologist’s office feels cozy, a warm refuge despite its modest size. The room is neatly arranged, with two soft, inviting sofas and bookshelves lining the walls. One of the sofas cradles Maria, who rests peacefully under a light blanket. Elene listens intently as the psychologist, Dr. Aurélie, speaks to her in French.

“Dr. Aurélie told me to grab a few medications from the pharmacy,” Elene translates. “I’ll be back soon. You guys enjoy yourselves while I’m gone.”

“Wait—I don’t speak French!” I protest.

“Lord Azazel does,” she replies with a smirk.

“I don’t want to,” Azazel says curtly, shooting her a cold, narrow-eyed glare.

“Oh, come on!” Elene waves dismissively. “I’ll be back in no time. You’ll survive.”

With that, she grabs her bag and leaves the office, leaving me awkwardly alone with Azazel. I glance over at him, curiosity bubbling to the surface.

“So... why were you even in Italy?” I ask hesitantly.

Azazel raises a brow, then leans back, his tone as dry as ever. “I almost got laid with an older woman.”

“What?!” My face burns with embarrassment. “You—you nearly—”

“It wasn’t worth it,” he interjects bluntly, shutting down the topic with an air of indifference.

Dr. Aurélie, who has been quietly observing us from the other side of the room, suddenly steps forward. Her expression is thoughtful but intrigued as she tilts her head.

“Are you two gay?” she asks in heavily accented English.

My jaw drops. “What?!”

I’m stunned for a second—not because of the question itself, but because I was under the impression she didn’t speak a word of English. Azazel, however, recovers quickly, fixing her with an unimpressed stare.

“Why would you think that?” Azazel asks, his tone cold but curious.

Dr. Aurélie shrugs slightly, her voice calm but perceptive. “I’ve been watching. The way you look at... him,” she nods toward me, “when He speaks. It’s like you’re trying very hard not to seem interested, but unconsciously... you glance at her lips when He isn’t paying attention.”

I blink, stunned by her observation. Her words bring a rush of realization that makes my face heat up further. I glance at Azazel, unsure whether to feel embarrassed, amused, or annoyed.

“She’s delusional,” Azazel replies flatly. “I don’t feel anything for Elysia.”

Her eyes narrow slightly. “That also makes me curious—why does she have a woman’s name?”

I hesitate, floundering for an explanation. How do I even begin to explain the curse that turned me into this? That a demon’s spell trapped me in an illusion of a male form? Before I can stammer out a response, Azazel places a firm hand on my shoulder.

“He’s free to be whatever she likes,” Azazel says coolly, his eyes closed, dismissing the matter with a flick of indifference. “Right or wrong, it’s her choice. As long as it doesn’t bother me, I couldn’t care less. Of course,” his lips curve into a faint, knowing smirk, “if she does bother me, I’ll deal with him for good.”

“Don’t you think your answer is a bit too loose? Or just plain lazy?”

Azazel opens one eye, his sharp gaze piercing through the room. “Have you ever lived among demons?”

The psychologist hesitates, visibly thrown off. Her expression shifts, confusion and skepticism mingling as though she’s trying to dissect his words.

“I think it’s delusional to even suggest demons exist,” she finally says, her tone guarded.

Azazel’s smirk deepens, his demeanor unshaken. “I see... I respect your opinion. But remember this: facts don’t change just because we hold different beliefs. When the truth is revealed, it doesn’t bend to our preferences or denials. It demands acceptance, whether we like it or not. And the ones who come out ahead?” He pauses, his voice dark and unwavering. “They’re the ones who know how to lose gracefully.”

“Let me add one more thing doc, when someone lives among demons many topics can be considered as topics of a saint”

Dr. Aurélie looks between us, her expression unreadable but faintly amused. Whatever she’s thinking, she keeps it to herself, stepping back to give us space.

Azazel releases my shoulder, glancing toward the door. “Let’s hope Elene hurries. I’ve had enough of this nonsense.”

I can’t tell whether he’s annoyed at the psychologist’s remark or at me, but I let it slide, grateful for the slight shift in tension. The room falls into a tentative silence, save for the soft ticking of a nearby clock.

I lean toward Azazel and whisper softly, “So, how are we going to deal with this mark?”

He glances at me, his expression as nonchalant as ever. “Hmmm... I can deal with it if I go back to Hell. While I’m here? No chance, unless I know which sin put the mark on you.”

“Oh, okay...” I murmur, the weight of his words settling over me.

“El—Elysia, right?” a voice interrupts. I glance up to see Dr. Aurélie watching us.

“Yes, it’s me,” I reply, caught slightly off guard.

“Can I talk to you alone?” she asks, gesturing toward the kitchen.

I nod, curiosity getting the better of me, and follow her.

Once we’re in the kitchen, her tone becomes casual, almost conspiratorial. “So, it seems you and Azazel are... nothing?”

“Of course, we aren’t,” I answer, a bit too quickly.

“Good,” she says with a playful smirk. “Then you don’t mind if I flirt with him?”

The question hits me like a splash of cold water. “No, I wouldn’t mind,” I reply, even though something about my own answer feels strange.

“Thanks!” she says brightly. “I’ll change into something more fitting.” She disappears, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I stand there for a moment, letting her words sink in. What do they even see in Azazel? I wonder, glancing toward him in the other room. My gaze drifts from his boots up to his sharp features, searching for whatever it is that seems to attract people to him. And then—warmth. A sudden, unexpected heat floods my face.

“What?” I whisper to myself, touching my cheeks as they redden. It can’t be...

I search my memories, trying to find some connection, some clue as to why I feel this way. But there’s nothing. No logical explanation, nothing in my past that links me to Azazel. And yet, my chest feels tight, my head light. Without realizing it, I take a step closer to him.

Azazel looks up at me, his expression vaguely annoyed. “What? Did the psychologist eat your tongue?”

“No...” I mumble, trying to steady myself. My head spins as I step even closer. I decided to sit next to him. He seems distracted and thinking about other things, not paying attention to me.

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His hand rests on the sofa, and without thinking, I let my own hand slide toward his. Every inch feels like a mile, my heartbeat echoing in my ears. I can almost feel the heat of his skin, the edges of my fingertips reaching out—

“Guys!” Dr. Aurélie’s voice rings out, snapping me out of my daze.

I jerk my hand back as though burned, hoping Azazel hasn’t noticed. My cheeks burn hotter than ever as I retreat, grateful for the interruption yet utterly mortified by my own behavior.

“Azazel right?”

“Yes. Psychologist”

“Just call me Aurelie, I want to thank you for your help in the airport in a proper way. By a nice lunch”

Azazel looks back at me, like waiting for a response.

“What, why you looking me, do what you want”

“Fine” He sighs

“Dr Aurelie I will go with you”

“Good,. Elysia, Elene will be back with the pills soon. Just feed them to Maria, and she’ll be fine. Meanwhile, there are some magazines you can read.”

“Got it,” I replied, slumping onto the sofa and eyeing the magazines on the coffee table.

As Azazel and Dr Aurelie left, I flipped through the pages of a glossy magazine.

“I can’t read French…” I muttered, tossing it aside with a sigh.

I can’t help but think about what I’m supposed to do. I use the remote control to turn on the TV, but of course, it only has French channels.

That’s when the air shifted. A familiar voice echoed, dripping with smugness.

“To be honest, I’m impressed you managed to escape Italy.”

I freeze, sitting upright as Asaul materializes, his body forming out of thin air like a bad special effect. My instinct kicked in, and I moved to shield Maria.

“Relax,” he says, holding up a hand. “I’m not allowed to kill you. My plan may have failed, but I’m not that bitter.” He sighs dramatically, as if I had ruined his weekend.

“Then cancel the mark!” .

“Yeah, about that… I can’t. My plan failed, sure, but that doesn’t mean I’m done bothering you.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Straight to the point, huh? Fine, I’ll indulge you.” He smirked, leaning closer. “Tell me, Elysia, do you feel something for Azazel?”

“What?!” My face flushed instantly, heat spreading up to my ears.

“I see…” His grin widened, clearly satisfied. “Well, my work here is done.”

“Hey, wait—!” Before I could stop him, he vanished like smoke in the wind.

I sat there, clutching my chest as my heart raced.

“What is wrong with me…”

----------------------------------------

Hours later, Elene returns, carrying a bag of medicine.

“Elysia, I’m back! Wow, you look awful,” she says, setting the bag down and leaning in to inspect me.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” she insists, pressing her hand against my forehead.

“It’s hot,” she notes.

“I’m NOT!” I snap, my voice louder than I intend.

Startled, Elene steps back. “Alright, alright. Just chill and sit down.”

I slump onto the couch, but my head pounds relentlessly. Static buzzes in my ears, and sharp pain stabs through my temples.

Elene hands Maria her medicine and glances back at me, her worry unmistakable.

Then, the door bursts open. In stumbles the psychologist, clearly tipsy, supported by none other than Azazel.

“Azazel is such a BEAST!” she shouts, her voice slurring.

“Elysia, what’s wrong?” Azazel’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

Why am I angry?

Angry

Angry

Angry

“No…” I murmur.

“No, what?” he asks.

“You’re such a pig!” The words burst out of me, sharp and venomous, before I can stop them. The image of him charming women in Italy and now in Paris claws at my mind, igniting a storm in my chest. My blood boils.

A sudden gust of wind tears through the room, scattering papers like a whirlwind. A nearby lamp topples over and shatters on the floor.

“Elysia, calm down!” Elene’s voice is urgent as she rushes toward me. Her arms wrap tightly around me, trying to restrain me, her grip firm but trembling.

“Lord Azazel,” she cries out, panic thick in her tone, “I think she’s been brainwashed or something!”

“I am NOT brainwashed!” I scream, my voice echoing like thunder. Another surge of raw energy explodes from me, and a powerful gust of air sends Elene hurtling backward. She crashes into the wall with a sickening thud and slumps to the floor.

The room falls into a tense silence, broken only by the faint rustle of papers still drifting to the ground. My head throbs, the storm inside me raging, threatening to escape.

Azazel’s eyes lock on mine, his expression unreadable but intense.

“Elysia, stop!” he commands, his voice steady but urgent. The sound of it makes my skin crawl.

I can’t stay here. The chaos in the room mirrors the tempest inside me. Without a second thought, I turn and bolt out of the apartment, my breath ragged as I race into the night.

“Elysia, wait!” Azazel calls after me, his footsteps close behind, but I don’t stop. I can’t.

The city lights blur around me as I run, my emotions spiraling into confusion and anger. All I know is that I need to get away—away from him, away from everything.

----------------------------------------

I reach the rooftop, the open sky above me.

“Elysia, wait! I know what’s going on,” Azazel calls out.

“You don’t know anything, you womanizer!” I shoot back.

“Think about it,” he says, his voice steady despite the chaos. “You didn’t feel this way before, did you? Doesn’t that strike you as strange?”

“Shut up!” My arm glows with red steam, the mark blazing as it envelops me. I swing at Azazel, sending him flying off the roof.

“Oh no…” I mutter, realizing what I’ve done.

But before panic can set in, Elene appears below, catching him midair.

“Elysia!” she shouts as she lands.

“It’s all because of—”

The red steam surges into my ears, muffling their voices. I can’t hear a word they’re saying. All I know is how I feel: jealous, furious, and—

“You two are such pigs!” I leap high into the air, landing with a crash that cracks the rooftop beneath us.

“Elene, we need to handle this carefully!”

“Don’t worry, Lord Azazel,” her gaze is sharp. “I’ll knock her out, but gently.”

Elene moves in a blur, her speed nearly impossible to track. Yet, to my surprise, I can see her coming—slowly. Without thinking, I catch her fist.

“What the—?!” Elene gasps.

The steam around me morphs into a massive red arm, mirroring my thoughts. With one swing, I send Elene crashing into the floor below.

“This is so much fun!” I grin, my gaze locking onto Azazel.

“Oh… crap,” he mutters.

“Time to be mine.”

The words left my lips, and I froze.

Did I just say something ridiculous?

I couldn’t stop myself, my body moving on its own. But why did it feel so… right? The red steam swirled around Azazel, pinning him in place as I stepped closer. His lips came into focus—so close, so tempting.

But with every step, a sharp pain pulsed through my head.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

Despite the pounding, a wide smile spread across my face, unbidden.

“Elysia, wait—before you regret this!” Azazel’s voice waves, and I see beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

His usual calm was cracking.

The great Azazel, Demon Lord, is nervous in my presence.

“So cute…” I murmur.

Wait, did I just call him cute? Cute is not in my vocabulary for moments like this, but here I am, rewriting the rules.

I reach out, brushing my fingers against his cheek. His skin is warm, his expression frozen between panic and disbelief.

“Wait, Elene—think about this!” Azazel’s voice grew more frantic. “Come on, humans are emotional, right? Think of your heart. Ask your heart what it wants!”

“My… heart?”.

“Yes, your heart!” he said quickly, seizing the moment. “Think about it—what does it tell you?”

My heart? I tried to focus, but it felt so far away, out of reach. I close my eyes, searching my memories, trying to find something that would explain these feelings.

Azazel… He annoys me. Constantly.

I shook my head, frustration bubbling up.

“My heart?” I whisper again, the words barely audible.

“Yes, your heart! Think of all the moments we’ve—”

“My head hurts!” I cut him off, gripping my temples.

The steam around me thickens, pulsing in rhythm with the pain. My sentences were getting shorter, fragmented. I couldn’t even string my thoughts together properly.

I scream, the sound tearing through the air. At that moment, my logic snaps into focus. This wasn’t me. This steam—it wasn’t an extension of my feelings or my will.

It was something else.

“What is this?!” my voice finally breaking free of the fog.

“It’s the mark!” Azazel’s voice cut through, clear and sharp. “It’s controlling you!”

I scream again, the sound echoing twice as loud as before, tearing through the night like a storm. The steam around me thickens, swirling violently, but then, as suddenly as it appears, it vanishes. My body collapses to the ground, the world fading to black.

When I opened my eyes, I was lying on the sofa, my head pounding but the strange haze was gone.

“What happened?”

Azazel is standing nearby, his arms crossed and his usual smirk absent.

“Hmm, you were enhanced by the mark. Human bodies have some natural resistance, but the mark… it’s already in an advanced state.”

“What?” My head is spinning again, but this time from his words.

“Yeah,” Azazel continues, his tone nonchalant as if this is all routine for him. “And thanks to your little outburst, I now know which sin the mark belongs to. It’s lust.”

“Lust?”

“Yeah, You got attracted to me. Understandable, really. I am the male with the best features here.”

“You… what?!”

Azazel shrugged, ignoring my outrage. “Your proud nature conflicted with lust, which made it manifest more as jealousy. But at its core, it’s definitely lust. Which means…” He trailed off, his eyes narrowing.

“Which means what?”

“We have to find Asmodeus,”

“Asmo-who?” I blink, the name unfamiliar.

“The demon in charge of the concept of lust,”.

“Lord Azazel,” Elene interrupts, stepping into the room with a serious expression. “That’s actually… complicated. Asmodeus isn’t in Hell.”

“True. Which means we don’t know exactly where he is.”

“So what now? How did they even manage to mark me with lust if Asmodeus isn’t around?”

“That,” Azazel says, his tone shifting to one of genuine intrigue, “is the tricky part. Someone else had to be working on Asmodeus’s behalf. But I think I know where we can start looking for answers.”

Elene nods, her golden eyes narrowing with determination. “It won’t be easy, but if we want to undo the mark, we have no other choice.”

“ Right, I see our path collided again”

“What do you mean?”

“ I came here for a reason but now it seems I found my path. We are going to the attraction of this city, the style and clothes together.”

“Where?”

“Just follow me, Elysia. Elene you stay here, and take care of Maria”

We let the psychologist sleep while she was drunk and stayed there.

We leave the apartment and while we walk, I can't help but look in curiosity and decide to ask.

“Did you and the psychologist something happened?”

“No, She’s not my type. If I have type “ he talks with a confidence with his eyes closed, following the path

“Be Careful you might trip!”