Ixartxist sat behind his grand desk, engrossed in scrutinizing people's contracts with him. The air in his dimly lit office carried an air of ominous anticipation. Suddenly, a sinister shadow emerged from the very floor, interrupting Ixartxist's meticulous examination.
"What business do you have here?" Ixartxist demanded, his piercing gaze fixed on the shadow demon.
With an unsettling hiss, the shadow demon conveyed grave news – Nia'le's heart had ceased to beat. A wicked grin spread across Ixartxist's face, reveling in the dark tidings. He rose from his seat, pacing to the wide glass window that offered a view of the unknown beyond.
"Excellent," Ixartxist mused. "No more obstacles impeding my path to Tassa. She will be mine, entirely. Nia'le, you are no longer a hindrance."
A malevolent gleam in his eyes, Ixartxist contemplated the impending possession of Tassa. The mere thought seemed to fuel his dark desires.
"I can hardly wait to grasp you in my clutches," he muttered to himself, the anticipation dripping from his words. "Imagine the torment I shall unleash upon you."
Ixartxist's grip tightened on his goblet, and in a fit of perverse excitement, he shattered it. The broken glass scattered across the floor, and his hand bore the consequences, crimson droplets staining the ground. Ignoring the wound, he pulverized the glass, for it's a twisted pleasure of pain. The broken glass, now tainted with his blood, crunched beneath his relentless grip. Pleasure and pain danced in a macabre symphony as he pressed the crystal shards into his open wound, savoring the sensations.
His eyes closed, head raised, Ixartxist surrendered to the unsettling ecstasy that his own blood and shattered glass bestowed upon him. The room bore witness to this unholy communion, a prelude to the malevolence yet to unfold.
In the midst of this morbid indulgence, his secretary timidly entered the room, having completed the tasks assigned to her. Ixartxist acknowledged her presence with a glance, his demeanor unchanged by the grotesque tableau he had created.
"Everything you asked for, sir," the secretary meekly informed him. "Sorted in order for your convenience. And—"
Ixartxist, still lost in his ritualistic trance, placed his bloodied hand on the cold glass window, allowing his life force to flow like a crimson river. Alarmed, the secretary rushed to his side, her concern evident as she grasped his wounded hand and inquired about his well-being. Ixartxist, still ensnared in the aftermath of his blood-soaked ritual, cast a sinister smirk at his secretary, Sia. With a hand stained by his own life force, he caressed her soft face, leaving a trail of crimson in his wake.
"Is it not exquisite, Sia?" Ixartxist inquired, his tone laced with a perverse satisfaction.
Taking advantage of her proximity, he slowly drew her closer, guiding her to lean against his imposing desk. The air thickened with a forbidden tension as their bodies brushed against each other. Sia, seemingly entranced, made no protest as the boundaries of professionalism blurred.
Ixartxist's lips found the delicate skin of her neck, initiating a symphony of moans that resonated in the shadowy confines of his office. However, abruptly, he halted, a glower replacing the twisted pleasure on his face.
"This is wrong, Sia," Ixartxist admonished, his momentary conscience surfacing. "You have a fiancé, and your paths are destined to intertwine."
Undeterred, Sia, still leaning on the table, dismissed his concerns with a nonchalant response, "He'll never know."
Ixartxist, sensing the moral abyss he was teetering on, stepped back, creating distance between them. He turned away, gazing out of the wide glass window, contemplating the darkness that lay beyond.
"And what if he does?" he challenged.
Sia, undeterred by the implications, joined him by the window, her gaze fixed on the unknown horizon. With a subtle defiance, she took his bloodied hand and pressed it against her face.
"He wouldn't know," she assured,
Sia slowly took his tie off, and gave it to Ixartxist.
He smirked at her, and he walked around her, and took his tie, and he tied it to her neck. Sia gasped for air, but she was too stunned to the pleasure that she feel. The tense was so overwhelming, where she couldn't feel any pain even though Ixartxist was gripping her arms too much. He saw her blood dripping from her arms that he's gripping but he never heard her scream, but just moan. That's why he pushed her on the floor, and stepped on her back. Ixartxist was still expecting her to scream but she's just moaning, and she didn't even complain. He pulled his hair, and asked her, "Is this all that you want, Sia. You're a sex addict hoe, but you're still lucky to get marry to a guy like him." Ixartxist flipped her, and he touched her chin. "The only thing you want is pleasure, and you will get a lot of that—" Ixartxist took off his neck tie that he had used to choke her. And she slowly stood up, while taking her clothes off, "from you?" Sia asked.
Ixartxist just balefully smiled at her, and he touched her hair, and he smiled at her again.
"No" he replied.
Ixartxist pulled Sia's head from her neck, and ended up by killing her. He threw her head on the floor and he fed it to the shadow demon that was standing there the whole time. "Here, help yourself. You can have her body, just make sure you clean it up." Xart said. The Shadow demon thanked him for the body that he had given to it. And it suddenly made a black hole appeared on the floor and the Shadow demon and the body just suddenly vanished in front of him. Ixartxist sighed, finding solace in his chair while adjusting his necktie. "One thing that could trigger me are those promiscuous individuals. They're so addicted to sex, oblivious to the fact that too much of it can lead you to hell. What a revolting crime. They're among the most repulsive creatures on Earth. Won't they learn that sex is sacred, not secret? It's only right after marriage. Engagement doesn't even count as an exception. I'm a demon, but I know my limitations. Demons may indulge in innovation and temptation, but sex is a grievous sin. I pity them for being so naive and, at the same time, engaging in such behavior. But I can't do anything now. They live every day and sin every day. How pitiful," he muttered.
Standing, he grabbed his coat from the hanger, glancing at his healed hand without a care. Wearing the coat, he left his office.
Ixartxist made his way to his other company in New York. Xart, one of the world's most renowned businessmen, possessed a colossal presence in the music industry. His philanthropic acts, like generous donations to orphanages and adopting underprivileged children, painted him as a virtuous figure. People, especially children, adored him. Despite being a demon, Ixartxist's charming features made it effortless for him to captivate hearts and manipulate minds. He utilized his charm for women, intelligence for men, and a kind persona for children, making it challenging for anyone to doubt or refuse him.
Yet, Ixartxist harbored a vehement disdain for one thing – "Sex addiction." He despised public displays of sex and relationships outside the confines of marriage. The commodification of intimacy for money further fueled his disgust. He considered it one of the most foolish sins humans could commit, firmly believing in the sanctity of sex within the bounds of marriage.
Entering his company, Xart received warm greetings from employees. An assistant retrieved his coat and hat, and he expressed gratitude. Stepping into the elevator, he encountered a group of chattering girls. Their voices, usually irritating to any human, managed to annoy him as well. But he composed himself by gripping his arm out of anger, until he felt his finger enter his skin, and touches his own bone. The blood started to spill, but he used a spell to blind them from seeing his blood, so the people in the elevator couldn't see it.
Ixartxist reached the 7th floor, his sanctuary. As he silently entered his office and closed the door with solemnity, he found Calaguas comfortably settled in his chair. Unfazed, Ixartxist approached him, questioning why he invaded his space. Calaguas rose, offering the chair, noting, "Someone's not in a good mood today." Ixartxist, sitting with a bloody arm on the table, responded to the inquiry about his wound with closed eyes and a weary explanation, "Revolting whispers all over the place."
"The hell is still empty," remarked Calguas casually, eliciting a bitter laugh from Ixartxist. Seating himself nearby, Calguas, crossing his legs, teased about women being a gift for men. Rolling his eyes, Ixartxist differentiated himself, confessing, "I didn't go to hell because of a flirtatious human; it was a wrong decision."
Calguas, in response, raised an eyebrow, leaving the unspoken hanging in the air. Acknowledging the past, he emphasized acceptance. However, a chill entered the room as Calguas shifted the conversation to demons possessing humans for an unlikely chance to return to heaven. Ixartxist's blank stare met the realization of humanity's awareness.
"Why would they believe in such things if they already know the truth?" Calguas questioned, prompting a deep breath from Ixartxist. Suddenly, Suman materialized before them, perching on Ixartxist's desk and extending a greeting. Disregarding the offer, Ixartxist pushed him away, commanding him to face the wall. Undeterred, Suman chose a nearby couch, taking his seat with a smirk, setting the stage for the peculiar dynamics within the demon.