I can hear Elene retching behind me, her gagging loud enough to draw a wince. Azazel, meanwhile, shoots me a look of absolute disgust. His piercing eyes bore into me like I’d just committed some unspeakable crime.

“What—? I didn’t mean to!” I stammer, holding up my hands in defense. “Besides, the plan was to solve this peacefully!”

“Yes, peacefully,” Azazel hisses, crossing his arms. “Not by making every soldier in this room kiss each other! Now they can’t even stop. You’re pure evil, shattering their pride like this.”

“At least no one’s hurt!” I mutter, trying to convince myself more than him. My eyes dart to the faint red mist curling around the air—my “lust steam.” it’s saved us, I’m not so sure I want to get rid of it anymore.

“Wow, that was disgusting,” Elene finally manages, wiping her mouth.

“What? Why?” I ask, my face heating.

She jerks her thumb toward the corner of the room. “Are you not seeing those two over there? They’re—oh god—they’re taking things way too far with their hands!”

My gaze follows hers, and… oh. Oh.

“Oh no. Don’t look at them,” I squeak, covering her face with my hands.

Azazel sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s obvious. Fashiel is involved in this.”

I nod quickly, relieved for the distraction. “Yeah, totally. Self-explanatory.”

“We need to get moving,” Azazel says firmly, his tone all business. He turns to Elene. “Elene, make sure the soldiers don’t… escalate past kisses.”

“B-but, Lord Azazel!”

“No buts!”

Elene’s shoulders slump in defeat as she nods, visibly deflated but obedient.

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

We arrive into the building as easy as before, it looks so easy, except for the guards in all the doors, front and back.

Azazel turns to me with a commanding look. “Now, Elysia. Do your thing.”

“Wait, what?” I blink at him, dumbfounded. “What thing?”

“You said you wanted to solve this peacefully, right?” he says, smirking faintly. “Use your lust steam.”

“I—what? I don’t even know how to use it! It just shows up whenever it wants to!”

Azazel’s smirk deepens, and he leans closer, his voice low and teasing. “Come on, Elysia. Don’t tell me you’re that inexperienced.”

My face goes beet red. “T-that’s not—! I mean, it’s not like I have a manual for this, okay?!”

"Just go," Azazel orders, his voice unusually soft but laced with irritation. "I don't think I can handle taking a few bullets in the chest right now."

"Fine..." I grumble, forcing myself to move. The closer I get to the guards, the more my nerves scream at me to turn back. Their sharp eyes pierce right through me, and I feel sweat sliding down my back.

My supposed "lust steam" does not show up. Thanks for nothing, powers.

The guards point their tasers at me without hesitation.

"Why are you here?" one of them demands, his tone sharp.

I glance around. More guards are approaching, some yelling into radios for reinforcements. I'm surrounded.

Desperate, I raise my hand dramatically and shout, "Lust steam power, activate!"

...

Nothing happens. Absolutely nothing.

The cringe hangs heavy in the air, and I swear I hear some of the guards snickering.

"He's a creep," one of them mutters loud enough for me to hear.

"Who are you calling a creep?!" I shout back, flustered.

Before I can embarrass myself further, every single guard suddenly jerks backward. Their own tasers discharge right into themselves, leaving them twitching on the ground.

The silence is deafening.

Azazel steps forward casually, smirking as he steps over one of the guards. "Yeah, you’re actually scarier than anyone right now."

Two guards remain standing, but they’re visibly shaking.

I clear my throat, trying to salvage whatever dignity I have left. "Uh… open the door, please?"

The guards exchange nervous glances before scrambling to unlock the door. With little resistance, we step inside and make our way to the top floor.

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

The room at the top is grand, almost obnoxiously so. And there, sitting behind a massive desk, is Fashiel. His wide eyes dart between me and Azazel.

"How...?" he stammers. "I sent an army to stop you!"

"Well," Azazel says with an unimpressed shrug, "your definition of 'army' is kind of sad."

"What do you mean?! I sent fifty men!"

"Yeah," I cut in, "and now they’re all on the floor, electrocuting themselves. Honestly, it was kinda tragic to watch."

Fashiel lets out a heavy sigh and slumps in his chair. "I guess I’m defeated."

Azazel takes a step forward, his presence suffocating. "Now spill the truth, Fashiel."

Fashiel rubs his temples before meeting Azazel’s gaze. "Fine. I lost a bet with Asaul. The wager was… Elysia's life."

My breath catches in my throat. "You what?!"

"And you chose to obey him over me, the demon lord?" Azazel growls, his tone icy.

"I’m sorry, Lord Azazel," Fashiel says, bowing his head slightly. "But I made a contract."

Azazel's eyes narrow. "What contract could possibly hold more power than me?"

"You wouldn’t understand." Fashiel smirks faintly, leaning back in his chair. "But now that you’re here, how about we play a game?"

"No." Azazel’s voice cuts through the air like a blade. "Enough games."

Fashiel holds up a hand. "Wait! Before you say anything else, if you win, I’ll remove the mark from Elysia."

Azazel pauses, his gaze flickering to me. "Elysia, what do you think? Should we play his little game… or just delete him?"

I glance at Fashiel, who’s clearly stalling for time, and then at Azazel, who’s practically oozing murderous intent.

"Uh..." I scratch the back of my neck nervously, trying to buy time. "Define ‘delete’?"

Azazel pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "You are dumb, human," he mutters before yanking my cheek.

"Ow! Hey!" I swat his hand away, but apparently, my lust steam had other plans. With an audible whoosh, it manifests as a punch and sends Azazel flying into the wall with a loud crash.

I blink. "Uh… oops?"

Azazel groans, buried in a pile of debris.

Fashiel raises an eyebrow and smirks. "Well, that was unexpected."

"Lord Azazel, let me remind you: while I might be stuck in your legion thanks to this universe’s hellish rules, my heart, soul, and pact are still with Asmodeus’ legion. So if you even think about overstepping and attacking me, you can bet Asmodeus himself won’t tolerate it."

Azazel emerges from the rubble, dusting himself off with a pained expression. "Damn… my head is spinning..." He glares at me for a moment before turning his attention back to Fashiel. "Fine, Fashiel. We’ll play your little game."

Fashiel claps his hands together gleefully. "Good."

Out of nowhere, a table materializes between us, along with chairs that pull us into place.

Chains snake up from the table, binding our wrists. A peculiar ring slides onto each of our fingers, a small blade extending from its edge. My eyes widen as I notice the sharp point aimed outward. The mechanisms on the rings make it clear: if triggered, that blade will swing inward.

I gulp audibly. "Uh… what exactly is this game?"

Fashiel grins. "A simple game of truth or dare, modified of course"

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Azazel, however, looks entirely unimpressed. He yawns loudly, leaning back in his chair like this is some casual tea party.

I nudge him with my elbow. "Hey, why are you not freaking out?! This is terrifying!"

Azazel glances at me lazily. "Why would I? This is just theatrics."

"Th-theatrics?! Did you see the blades?!" I hiss, pointing at the sharp mechanism practically attached to my finger. "If these things swing in—"

"They won’t," he interrupts, waving me off. "Not unless you do something stupid. Which, considering you’re you, is a very real concern."

I glare at him. "Excuse me?!"

"Focus, kids," Fashiel says mockingly, his grin wide and sinister. "The rules are simple: betray your partner, and you win. Stay loyal to your partner, and you both win."

"That's dumb!" I blurt out, throwing my hands up.

"She’s right," Azazel adds with a lazy smirk, crossing his arms. "I could win this game with my eyes closed. She, on the other hand, would probably lose all her fingers without me even trying."

"Hey!" I snap, glaring at him.

Fashiel chuckles. "Hehehe, don’t worry, you two. I bet you’re thinking, ‘I’ll just use my powers at the last minute and cheat.’ Well, I’ve thought of that. These chains," he gestures to the restraints on our wrists, "are the Chains of Lust, crafted by none other than Asmodeus himself. No powers tied to lust can be activated here—except by my master."

Azazel leans back with a smug grin. "So, he’s aware."

"Who knows?" Fashiel shrugs. "But enough chatter. Let’s begin."

With a snap of his fingers, a deck of cards materializes in the middle of the table, swirling in a mesmerizing dance of three distinct colors: red, blue, and gold.

"Now," Fashiel says, gesturing toward the table, "place your finger on the scanner."

Reluctantly, I press my finger against the cold surface of the table. Azazel and Fashiel follow suit. A brief hum fills the room as the scanner activates, and the deck of cards shuffles itself into a blur of colors.

"The deck is now tied to the three of us," Fashiel explains with a wicked grin. "Each color represents one of us. Which color corresponds to whom? That’s a mystery. Each turn, the deck will present a card with either a question or a dare. Questions must be answered truthfully, while dares are small challenges. If a dare involves another player, they can choose to refuse."

Azazel yawns again, tapping the table with an air of boredom. "Get on with it, then. I don’t have all day to play your ridiculous little games."

I shoot him an incredulous look. "This might literally cost us our lives, and you’re bored?!"

He smirks at me. "Relax, Elysia. Just follow my lead, and you might make it out of this with all your fingers intact."

I groan, already regretting every decision that led me to this moment.

The room grew tense as Fashiel finished explaining the twisted rules of his game. His laughter echoed around us, sending chills down my spine.

"The goal is simple," he began, his eyes glinting with malice. "The first person to earn five points wins. How do you earn points? Simple. Answer the question correctly and guess which of the three colors corresponds to whom, or complete the dare without failing. Easy, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, totally sounds like a breeze."

Fashiel ignored me, continuing, "If you fail to answer a question or refuse a dare, it’s minus one point. And let me be clear—if your points drop below zero, you’ll lose a finger."

I gulp, instinctively flexing my fingers.

"Great," I mutter under my breath. "A game of trivia and torture."

"But wait, there’s more!" Fashiel grin gets wider, clearly enjoying himself. "You can save a card instead of answering or completing a dare. Saving a card doesn’t earn or cost you points, but you can only save up to two cards at a time. Here’s the fun part—if it’s someone else’s turn, you can hand them one of your saved cards instead. They’ll have to complete it, and if they fail, you earn a point, and they lose one."

"And if they succeed?" Azazel asks nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair.

"Then you lose a point instead," Fashiel answes with a shrug. "Risk and reward, my friends. Now… everyone starts with three points, since we are three, easy right" He snapped his fingers, and the deck of cards stopped shuffling, floating neatly onto the table.

“Rules, the person in turn is the only one speaking until he end up the challenge. “

"Let’s get this over with. I have better things to do."

I glared at him. "Better things? Like what, napping?"

"Exactly,"

I sigh, turning my attention to the glowing deck. My stomach churn as the first card rose from the stack, the colors swirling ominously.

"Whose turn is it?" I ask hesitantly.

Fashiel leaned back in his chair, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. "Ladies first."

A card hovers in front of me, glowing blue. I flip it over.

Question: Name a popular brand of clothes in France.

I froze. "Uh... no clue."

"Good. Look at the monitor; it shows your points dropping. Down to two now."

The digital screen confirms it. I clench my fists. At least now I knew: blue cards were Fashiel’s.

"Guess it’s Lord Azazel’s turn," Fashiel smirks as the deck dealt another card.

Azazel picks up a red card and glanced at it. His eyes lit up with amusement.

Question: Guess one player's underwear color today.

Azazel raise an eyebrow, smirking. "If I have to bet, elysia , it’s white."

The screen buzz, deducting one point from him.

"You lose!" Fashiel laughed. "You didn’t know, after all."

3-2-2

I turn bright red. "What kind of questions are these?! This is so inappropriate!"

Azazel shrugs, completely unfazed. "I mean, statistically, white was a good guess."

I smack him on the arm. "Stop talking!"

Fashiel chuckles, clearly having the time of his life. "Well, now we know red cards are Elysia’s. This is getting fun."

Azazel leans toward me, his grin widening. "So, what color are you wearing—"

"Silence!" Fashiel interrupts, slamming his hand on the table. "It’s my turn."

A red card materializes in front of him. He studies it for a moment, then smirks like he’s already won.

The question reads: What’s the name of a player the cardholder secretly likes?

Fashiel’s grin stretches even wider as he announces, "Elysia likes someone named Joseph."

I freeze, my face draining of all color. "What—how do you know that?!"

The monitor beeps, awarding him a point.

I cross my arms, glaring at him. "That’s not fair! How does he even know that?!"

Fashiel bursts into laughter, thoroughly enjoying my mortification. "Too bad. I’m just smart like that."

Azazel leans back in his chair, groaning. "This game is rigged."

The scores light up on the monitor:

4-2-2.

Next question is for me, and I got one of gray color, obviously azazel

Who forgot its memory

I dont really understand the question but if it is a who question then easy

“Azazel it is”

4-3-2

One point added to three back, but now is azazel turn

Who seems to save its card

“Then is my turn kids”He get a gray card

“You piece of-” Fashiel is mad

“You think of in purpose during the scanning dont you, of course I dont know Asaul identity”

“What happened I dont understand”

“The scanner from the beginning I knew it was not just a simple scanner that would be too easy for a demon, I knew somehow It would infiltrate to our mind or get info, in my case I use my brain in my control and make the most image of something anonymous, in this case Asaul, and it resulted”

3-3-2

“Good play, Lord Azazel, but now it is Elysia's turn.”

I took a card, and another blue card

Dare: Make a soufflé.

Before I can react, the environment shifts, and a fully stocked kitchen materializes around me.

"You’re female," Fashiel says smugly. "You’re supposed to know how to do that."

I glare at him, my fists clenched. "That’s so sexist!"

He shrugs, his mocking grin widening. But the truth is... I have no clue how to make a soufflé. After several disastrous attempts, the timer buzzes, signaling my failure.

The monitor deducts a point: 3-2-2.

Azazel smirks, clearly amused by my defeat. "Well, it’s my turn now." He effortlessly picks up a red card.

The question reads: Where and when was Napoleon born?

Azazel doesn’t even hesitate. "August 15, 1769, in Ajaccio, on the island of Corsica. and of course this is Fashiel card"

The monitor chimes, awarding him a point. The score updates: 3-2-3.

His smug expression makes my blood boil. This game is getting more intense, and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep up.

When my turn comes, I solve my question easily since it’s mine: What’s your favorite food?

"I like my mom’s stew very much!" I answer confidently.

The monitor adds a point: 3-3-2.

Azazel picks a gray card and decides to save it. He now has two saved cards.

Fashiel, of course, gets a dare on a gray card: Jump from 100 meters. Without hesitation, he does it—and, unsurprisingly, survives.

The score updates: 4-3-2.

"Your turn, Elysia," Fashiel says, looking far too pleased with himself.

I stare at the red card in my hand, the words on it daring me to act. Dare: Kiss someone.

The stakes are high. I can either save it for another round or just go for it. If I act and Azazel refuses, Fashiel will likely win the next turn. The pressure is suffocating.

"So, what will it be?" Fashiel asks, tapping his fingers impatiently.

Without thinking, I blurt out, "I’ll do it. I’ll kiss Azazel."

Azazel’s face turns cold. "I refuse."

"What?" I snap, disbelief washing over me. "You’re supposed to be on my side!"

The monitor deducts my point, and the score shifts again: 4-2-3.

"Well, you definitely made it worse, Azazel," Fashiel remarks with a smirk.

On Fashiel’s next turn, he gets a gray card with a dare: Make a sin mark.

"I guess you don’t know how to do that," Azazel taunts, leaning back lazily. "Makes me think Asmodeus is the responsible one."

Fashiel grits his teeth, clearly irritated. The monitor deducts his point: 3-2-3.

On my turn, I draw a gray card and decide to save it, knowing Fashiel struggles with gray questions.

Azazel’s turn brings a red card. He reads it aloud, his voice dripping with mockery: What do you feel for Elysia?

He pauses, glancing briefly at me before answering. "I feel annoyance. She’s loud, always meddling where she shouldn’t, and insists on doing everything by the book. Her cooking isn’t bad, I’ll admit, but her mind is so simple that sometimes I feel like crushing it with my words just for amusement."

He hesitates, then adds almost reluctantly, "…But I suppose that’s what makes this world less boring."

The room falls silent as his words hang in the air.

"What—you’re kidding, right?" I stammer, my face burning.

Fashiel chuckles, breaking the tension. "The question was whether you like Elysia or not, Lord Azazel, not your… colorful opinion of her."

The scores remain unchanged: 3-2-2.

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

As the game continues, the scores shift:

2-2-2.

1-3-3.

2-3-2.

I save another card on my turn. When Azazel’s turn comes, he answers confidently.

"This one’s easy. Elysia’s favorite color is red."

The monitor chimes: 2-3-3.

I glare at him, suspicious. "How do you know that?"

"Are you kidding?" Azazel says, smirking. "You spend so much time taking care of your hair in the bathroom, even though it’s short. You might like it so much."

On Fashiel’s next turn, Azazel plays a saved gray card—a cryptic question Fashiel has no chance of answering.

Fashiel throws his hands in the air. "How am I supposed to know the name of Elene’s mother or any demon mother?!"

The scores shift again:

1-3-3.

1-4-4.

0-3-3.

-1-3-3.

“AHHH, MY FINGER!” Fashiel screams dramatically as his hand slams onto the table. A moment later, he bursts into hysterical laughter.

“You think this is funny?” I shout, horrified.

He lifts his hand, where his finger used to be. There’s no blood—just an empty space. “If I actually felt pain, this would’ve been so much more entertaining,” he says, his grin never faltering.

Suddenly, the table vanishes, and we’re left standing in the dim glow of the game’s eerie magic.

Fashiel sighs, shaking his head. “You saved four unsolvable Azazel questions just for me, didn’t you? A well-played strategy. You left me no way out. Clever... very clever.”

Azazel crosses his arms, unimpressed. “You underestimated us. That’s your problem.”

“Maybe I did,” Fashiel admits, his grin still in place. “But I was curious. Betrayal and teamwork—such an interesting combination, don’t you think?”

I glare at him. “You’re insane. You’re laughing while losing a finger!”

“I know. Now, come. I’ll get rid of the mark.”

“Wait— I think I’ve changed my mind.”

Azazel looks at me, eyes wide in disbelief. “I’m not someone who usually gets surprised, Elysia. But, you’re kidding, right?!”

“No, I think this is useful, but I really want to delete this illusion of a male form.”

Fashiel sighs, then does as I’ve asked. “Now you look like your normal self, and the mark is intact. Since I lose, I don’t have anything against the idea of a human with a mark, but I bet the world will be your playground from now on.”

“Too much of your opinion,” I snap. “Now, tell us everything.”

“Fine,” he sighs. “Asaul played a game with Lord Asmodeus. Asmodeus lost, and Asauls obtained the permit to use the mark on someone. Lord Asmodeus told me to listen to Asauls’ ideas, and I did. That’s all. Currently, I’m not linked to him in any way.”

“Now what Azazel”

“Just wait for Elene's jet, you said.”

“So you coming with us?”

“For a short amount of time.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have to return in hell, remember”

“I see… let's go then”