What are we doing in this high-class building?” I ask, biting into something that tastes way too fancy for my usual tastes.

Azazel, as expected, just sighs dramatically. “Just shut up and keep eating, Elysia.”

His cheek becomes my immediate target. I pinch and pull at it without hesitation. “That’s not a nice thing to say,” I scold, even as I chew on the delicious whatever-it-is I’m eating.

His hand darts out to pinch my cheek in retaliation.

“Hey! Let go!” I protest, swatting at him.

“You first!” he retorts.

We release each other simultaneously, exchanging a quick glare before continuing up the stairs. The dusty, dim corridor we’re in looks like it hasn’t been touched in decades. At the end of the path, however, there’s nothing but a dead end.

We continue our immature exchange until I finally let go. Honestly, I still have no idea what I’m eating, but it’s good enough to distract me from his usual sass.

“I’m surprised you found this backdoor,” I remark, gesturing to the somewhat sketchy-looking passage we’re navigating. “And how it leads to such a place.”

Azazel shrugs, ever the picture of smug nonchalance. “I know where all the demons are. It’s my duty. I don’t usually call on them, though, because I know what it is to be interrupted and demons don’t take interruptions lightly.”

“There’s nothing here,” I exclaim, throwing my hands up in exasperation.

Azazel smirks as if he’s been waiting for this moment. “Here,” he says, prying loose a piece of wood from the corner of the wall. A hidden passage reveals itself, leading us into a surprisingly pristine blue corridor.

At the end of the path is an elevator.

“This is the hard part…” Azazel mutters, his confidence wavering. “I don’t know what the password is.”

I furrow my brows, thinking. But before I can even attempt to brainstorm, the red steam appears again, swirling around me.

Azazel’s eyes widen in alarm, and he stumbles back. “Whoa, Elysia! Control that thing!”

“I don’t know how” I’m surprisingly calm. “I don’t even feel angry or anything right now.”

The steam floats toward the touchpad, brushing against it like it has a mind of its own. For a moment, nothing happens. Then, with a soft chime, the password is accepted and the elevator opens its door.

“What… did I just do?” I ask, staring at the now-active touchpad in disbelief.

Azazel’s expression is a mix of awe and confusion. “And I thought Elene would be the most powerful among the three of us…”

“What? Why?”

He crosses his arms, looking almost impressed. “What you just did was an advanced conceptual lust technique.”

“A what thing of what?”

“Your steam animated the touchpad, giving it the concept of lust. It extracted the information it needed from the touchpad voluntarily.”

I blink at him. “You’re telling me I just gave life to an inanimate object?”

He nods. “Yes. Temporarily, of course. But still, that’s a big deal.”

I don’t know whether to feel proud or terrified. Instead, I just mutter, “Well… okay then. Let’s just use the elevator.”

We step inside and ride it to the last floor. There’s only one door, and it has a sign that reads Unoccupied. Azazel doesn’t even hesitate, pushing it open.

Inside, we find a single human sitting at a desk. He looks up at us, his expression a mix of surprise and annoyance.

“What? Who are you guys?” he demands, his voice rising.

I glance at Azazel, then back at the man, offering my brightest, most innocent smile. “Just two very lost people who… might’ve taken a wrong turn?”

Azazel groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Elysia, you’re terrible at lying.”

“Shut up, Azazel!” I hiss, elbowing him.

The human stands frozen, eyes scanning us, disbelief written all over their face.

"Azazel?" He finally ask, their voice shaky yet demanding.

"Yes, it's me," Azazel replies smoothly, his tone cool as ever. "Fashiel."

"Fashiel?" I echo, tilting my head in confusion.

"Yes," Azazel confirms, his expression unreadable. "Fashiel, the demon of fashion in this world. He belongs to Asmodeus's legion. Fashiel thrives on the ever-changing tides of fashion. He’s known for dictating what’s ‘in’ and what’s ‘out,’ often pushing individuals to chase fleeting trends at all costs."

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Fashiel nods slightly, his eyes glinting with an air of superiority. "Indeed. It’s the power of perception, after all. Fashion, like lust, is a powerful motivator."

The human blinks slowly, still processing everything. Their gaze shifts nervously before they speak again. "Thanks for the introduction, Lord Azazel," Fashiel say, though their eyes flicker to me, clearly confused. "But what brings you here... and with a human?"

Azazel's gaze darkens as he steps forward, the air around him thickening. "I want answers. And I believe you have them."

The human narrows their eyes, crossing their arms defensively. "Sure, ask."

Azazel’s voice cuts through the room like a blade, sharp and direct. "This human bears the mark of lust."

The words hang in the air like an unspoken curse. Fashiel’s eyes widen with disbelief before quickly narrowing as he assesses me.

“Impossible,” Fashiel mutters, almost to himself.

“Well, it’s here,” Azazel says, his tone unyielding as he gestures to me. "And we want it gone."

I hold out my right hand, where the mark is supposed to be, but there’s nothing visible—just smooth skin.

Fashiel takes a step closer, his cold eyes scanning the area where the mark should be. "Hmm... yes, this is definitely the Mark of Lust. There’s no mistaking it."

"So, what now? Asmodeus isn’t here, and I’m sure he won’t come for something so trivial," I ask, crossing my arms in frustration.

Fashiel’s eyes glint with a knowing look, a hint of amusement playing at the edges of his lips. "Lord Azazel, why would you want this to be removed? The mark grants her permission of being a living embodiment of lust itself. She’s quite literally at the top of the food chain, not including us, of course."

I let out a heavy sigh, impatience seeping into my voice. "I don’t care about power. I just want to live a normal life. So, can you help or not?"

Fashiel considers this for a moment before giving a slight nod, as if weighing the situation. "I’ll send word to some other Lust demons. Perhaps they can pass a message along to Asmodeus. If he grants permission, then we can proceed."

"Thanks," I mutter, relieved at least that something is being done. "I appreciate it."

Fashiel’s gaze sharpens as if remembering something. “I have one more question. This mark, it comes from someone named Asaul. Do you know him?"

"Asaul?" Fashiel says, narrowing his eyes, the mood in the room shifting subtly. "I know him. But only from a game we played."

"A game?" I echo, confused. The tension rises as I try to make sense of his words.

"Yes," Fashiel explains, his expression turning cold. "The game was simple: if I won, he would be absorbed into me. If I lost, I would be absorbed. I won, of course."

"Then he’s gone," I say, relief washing over me as I process the words.

Fashiel gives a small, satisfied smile. "Yes, he’s gone."

"Well, that’s one less problem," I say, unable to suppress my smile as I jump slightly in excitement, the weight of the situation lifting just a little.

Azazel’s expression remains stoic, his eyes narrowing as he glances at Fashiel. "We’ll return in a few days for the info, then."

"Not a problem, Lord Azazel," Fashiel responds, bowing his head slightly in acknowledgment.

As we make our way back down the dimly lit hallway, the oppressive silence between us is broken by Azazel’s voice, low and cautious.

“I don’t trust him,” Azazel mutters, his voice barely more than a murmur, but the weight of his words makes them feel like a stone thrown into a still pond.

“What? Why?” I ask, turning to face him, feeling the unease growing in the pit of my stomach.

“It’s... it’s how he spoke about Asaul,” Azazel continues, his eyes narrowing. "He should have avoided talking about him, but he brought him up willingly. There was too much detail. It’s like he wanted us to hear just enough to make us think we were getting the whole story, but not enough to give us anything concrete."

“So, you think he’s lying?”

“Yeah,” Azazel says, his tone hardening with suspicion. “It’s like he wanted to make us feel reassured, like we were getting somewhere, but he left key parts out.”

“You think he’s hiding something?” I ask, my voice faltering slightly as the weight of Azazel’s words sinks in.

"But why would he lie to us about Asaul? What does he gain?"

“I don’t know," Azazel admits, frustration creeping into his voice. “But something about Fashiel’s tone, the way he mentioned the game... it just feels off. It’s like he’s playing a bigger game than we realize. Maybe he’s not in charge, but he knows more than he’s letting on.”

I meet his gaze, my own thoughts swirling. “You’re right. Something’s brewing, and we’re right in the middle of it.”

Azazel gives a small, sharp smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. "Looks like the game is just getting started."

As we enter the apartment, I can see Maria clearly better than before.

"Ely!" she greets, her usual energy bouncing back.

"Hey, Maria..." I stammer, suddenly embarrassed. I hadn’t meant to drag her to France without her permission, but there’s no turning back now.

"Where are we?" Maria asks, her voice laced with panic.

I hesitate for a moment before responding, my own uncertainty creeping in. "Maria, this will sound weird, but... we’re in France."

Her eyes widen in disbelief, and before I can say anything else, she collapses to the floor in fear, her breathing erratic.

"Looks like she’s remembering Italy," Azazel smirks, his tone oddly amused by her distress.

"Shut up, Azazel," I snap, clearly flustered. "Bring the doctor."

"She’s still unconscious," Elene adds, her expression grim as she glances at Maria’s still form.

But it’s Maria’s frantic screams that cause my stomach to churn. I’m genuinely afraid she might wake the neighbors and cause a scene. What can I do to calm her down? I need something—anything—to stop the panic from spreading.

As I stand there, trying to think of a solution, something strange happens. The red steam begins to swirl around me, its tendrils extending outward until it covers Maria’s face completely. For a moment, everything feels intense, almost overwhelming, but then the steam settles, and Maria’s screams cease.

Her expression softens, a serene smile spreads across her face, and she drifts into a peaceful sleep, as if the terror has been lifted from her entirely.

"What the hell was that?" Elene asks, her voice tinged with confusion and concern.

"I... I don’t know," I reply, staring at Maria’s peaceful form. It doesn’t feel right. It feels... unnatural.

"Hmm," Azazel steps in, studying Maria. "I’m no expert in Lust, but if I had to guess, it looks like your Lust power has some kind of... analgesic effect? I mean, just look at her face—she’s practically in ecstasy."

“But why so surprised. Elene… you can do this too, right?” I ask, expecting her answer to be something that can comfort me.

“No, I can fulfill some dreams of man, and even charm people to certain levels, but… you basically calm her trauma, in the middle of a brain attack.”

The sudden knock on the door echoes through the room, sharp and unnerving. Azazel’s voice cuts through the tense silence. "Who is it?" His tone is calm, almost too calm, but the unease in the air is palpable.

The muffled response comes back in French, too fast for me to follow. Before I can react, the door is torn from its hinges with a deafening crash, splinters flying in all directions. In the blink of an eye, dark figures with sleek, ominous masks flood the room, moving with terrifying precision.

I freeze for a split second, eyes wide with disbelief. "What the hell is going on?!" I demand, my voice rising in panic. The figures are everywhere, their movements coordinated and ruthless, as if they know exactly what they’re doing.

Azazel, however, remains eerily still, his gaze scanning the intruders. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even seem surprised. "I don’t know," he mutters, voice steady but with an edge of warning. "But I don’t think they’ll understand by talking."