I slipped back into the demon realm, the scent of misery still clinging to me like expensive perfume. My skin—as the humans call it_ "skin"—tingled with satisfaction. I hadn't felt this full in centuries. The taste still lingered on my tongue, a bittersweet symphony of betrayal, heartbreak, and shattered illusions.
Dwayne.
That was his name. Just another human at first glance. But oh, what a banquet his ruined relationship turned out to be. In all my years of feeding—centuries of devouring the rotting corpses of human affection—nothing had ever come close to this. That man's unraveling was art. A tragic, delectable masterpiece.
Let me tell you about him.
Dwayne was forced—yes, forced—by his charmingly manipulative family into marrying a woman he barely tolerated. He didn't hate her, no. He just didn't care. That indifference, though? It was like seasoning. His love belonged to another: Alycia. The forbidden fruit. The siren he chose over the calm harbor of duty. Ah, the irony. He was a man torn between obligation and passion, and I watched from the shadows, fangs bared in anticipation.
His wife—bless her resilient heart—knew about Alycia. She watched her husband drift further away each day. I expected rage, confrontation, maybe a scandal that would turn her grief into exquisite bitterness. I was ready for it. I could practically taste the fury simmering beneath her quiet smiles.
But then she died.
Poisoned.
By Alycia.
What a waste of potential! I could have feasted on that woman's fury for months. Instead, she went and died quietly, like a lamb to slaughter, and robbed me of a proper meal. I was irritated. Truly. Alycia's plan was so pedestrian. So typical of humans who mistake lust for strategy. Still, it cleared the path for Dwayne and his precious Alycia to unite, despite his family's outrage.
He married her barely after his wife's burial.
He stood there, in front of everyone who objected, and said, "I've already done what my family wanted. Now, it's time to live for me."
I laughed. Oh, how I laughed. He actually thought he was taking control of his life. He actually believed he was claiming love. And Alycia? She smiled beside him, all tears and sweetness on the outside, but inside—greed. Pure, unfiltered greed. She didn't want him. Not really. She wanted his wealth, his name, the comfort of his world. That woman was a walking famine with perfect lipstick.
And Dwayne—the fool—was convinced she was the love of his life.
It was almost too easy.
I tried, as I often do, to sow doubt gently at first. A whisper here. A flicker of suspicion there. I crept into his thoughts like a cold breeze under the door, subtle, nearly invisible. I showed him glimpses of Alycia's true self in his dreams. I nudged him toward her lies, guided his eyes toward her secret spending, her false tears. I did my part.
But Dwayne was stubborn.
Infuriatingly, admirably stubborn.
He clung to her like a drowning man clings to a rock in a storm. He refused to see. Refused to hear. Even as the evidence mounted, he painted over it with excuses and love-sick rationalizations.
No one had ever resisted me for that long. No one.
I began to detest him.
Humans, with all their fickle passions and disposable affections, never last. They fall in love like leaves fall from trees—easily and often. But Dwayne was different. Or maybe he was just stupid. Either way, I was done playing the long game. Alycia's original plan would have taken a decade to unfold. Ten whole human years. That's ten days here in the demon realm. I don't have that kind of patience when I'm starving.
So I changed tactics.
I whispered into Alycia's dreams instead. She was so easy to influence. I showed her nightmares of Dwayne's family tearing her down, exposing her secrets, stealing her inheritance. I whispered lies that grew into truths in her mind. I painted visions of power, wealth, and vengeance. I made her believe that Dwayne's family had to go.
Casualties, of course, are inevitable with my plan.
She eliminated them one by one. A mother. A brother. An uncle. All gone. Dwayne was too wrapped in her lies, in his delusion, to see it at first. But when the last of them—his youngest cousin—was found lifeless in their family estate, the cracks in his fantasy began to show.
And oh… that's when the flavor deepened.
His disbelief. His suspicion. His growing dread. It was intoxicating.
I kept feeding.
When he finally discovered that Alycia, his so-called "one true love," was behind every misfortune, every loss—he crumbled. He screamed her name in agony, threw furniture across rooms, clawed at walls, and sobbed into the void like a child abandoned.
It was glorious.
It was divine.
It was… perfection.
Then he did something I didn't expect.
He killed himself.
Honestly, that part wasn't in the plan. I don't usually push humans that far unless absolutely necessary. There's no more drama in death. No more heartbreak. Just silence.
But Dwayne broke, utterly and completely. And I? I devoured it all.
His despair.
His betrayal.
His final breath.
It was the richest thing I'd ever consumed.
I leaned back into the obsidian spires of my realm, licking the remnants of his sorrow from my claws. I could still feel the echo of his wail vibrating through my bones. I had fed well. Very well. Better than I had in centuries.
But the moment I let my guard down to savor it…
He appeared.
Garland.
The Head of All Demons.
A being older than sin itself. His form was… well, calling it a "form" is generous. He was darkness woven into law, but now he is taking the shape of a human. Chaos draped in judgment. His eyes—burned with power that could undo entire dimensions.
"Having fun?" His voice slithered around me, cold and sharp like barbed wire wrapped in silk.
I straightened. "Feeding. Efficiently."
Garland drifted closer. "I see. Efficient indeed. But you went too far. And you were reckless"