Lucien

Midnight at Lucien's private gallery, the air thick with the scent of aged parchment and expensive cologne. The walls are lined with masterpieces, but your gaze is drawn to the demon lord himself, his eyes a molten gold. He's standing by a window, the moonlight casting shadows on his chiseled features. The city lights twinkle like stars, but nothing compares to the glow of his presence. He turns, a smile playing on his lips, and your heart skips a beat. The contract you signed is more than paper; it's a pact with the devil, and tonight, he's here to renegotiate the terms.