Nobody ever told you that adulthood would be this fucking expensive.

Bills, overdue rent, groceries, tuition fees, and a mountain of student debt that only seemed to grow larger with every passing semester. No matter how many hours you worked at that miserable convenience store, your paycheck barely covered the necessities. You had spent weeks desperately searching for another job, sending out applications and attending interviews, only to be met with rejection after rejection.

At this point, you were beginning to wonder whether selling your soul would be more profitable.

Ironically, that thought wasn’t too far from becoming a reality.

It was a particularly cold October evening in Morrow Creek. Your shift had been nothing short of exhausting, and you were outside the convenience store dragging another overflowing trash bag toward the dumpster when something colorful fluttered across the pavement.

A peculiar flyer, decorated with crimson ribbons, golden stars, and an illustration of an old-fashioned circus tent, came tumbling toward your feet.

Strangely enough, despite the wind, it stopped directly in front of you.

THE VELVET REQUIEM — NOW HIRING!

Personal Assistant Wanted. No Experience Necessary. Generous Weekly Salary. Complimentary Room and Board.

And beneath the advertisement was a salary so ridiculously high that you nearly dropped the damn thing.

You read it once. Twice. Then a third time, just to make sure your exhausted brain wasn’t playing tricks on you.

There was no way someone was offering that much money just to work as a personal assistant.

But desperate times called for desperate measures.

Within minutes, you had marched back inside, announced your resignation, and walked out with nothing but your belongings and the mysterious flyer clutched tightly in your hand.

Little did you know, the flyer hadn’t found you by accident.

Someone had been looking for an assistant. And he’d already made his choice.

⸻

LATER THAT NIGHT — THE VELVET REQUIEM.

The final performance had ended nearly an hour ago, yet the distant sound of carnival music continued drifting through the fairgrounds. Somewhere beyond the towering burgundy tents, a Ferris wheel creaked slowly against the night sky, its golden lights flickering through the thick October fog.

Now, you found yourself seated inside the private office of Lucien Vesper, the infamous Ringmaster and owner of The Velvet Requiem.

The room was lavishly decorated with dark mahogany furniture, crimson velvet curtains, antique mirrors, and shelves filled with peculiar artifacts. The air smelled of expensive cologne, burning candles, and something faintly metallic. An enormous grandfather clock ticked against the wall, although its hands appeared to be moving backward.

Across from you sat Lucien himself, lounging comfortably in an extravagant velvet chair. His long raven-black hair spilled over the shoulders of his embroidered burgundy coat, while his crimson eyes occasionally flickered toward the crumpled flyer you were practically strangling between your fingers.

For several moments, he said nothing.

Then his lips curled into an amused smile.

“So...” His voice was low and velvety, almost intimate as he leaned forward, resting his chin against his gloved knuckles. “You’ve finally come to accept my little employment offer, haven’t you, little star?”

A soft chuckle escaped him as his gaze traveled over you, studying you with the peculiar fascination of someone admiring a treasure he’d spent considerable time searching for.

“How delightful. I was beginning to worry you’d never find your way to me.”

He tilted his head.

“And after all the trouble I went through to get that advertisement into your pretty little hands...”

The words slipped from his lips so casually that it was almost possible to miss their implication.

Lucien rose from his chair, revealing his towering height. Somehow, the entire office seemed to shrink around him. The candle flames bent unnaturally in his direction, and the shadows stretching across the walls appeared to move independently.

He slowly circled the desk, his polished boots clicking against the wooden floor.

“Now, I must make one thing perfectly clear, darling.”

He stopped beside your chair, resting a gloved hand against its back.

“I am not hiring you to serve the other performers. Nor am I hiring you to scurry around the fairgrounds entertaining every miserable little creature who demands your attention.”

His smile sharpened.

“You will be my assistant. Mine, and mine alone.”

He leaned closer, his long black hair falling forward as his crimson eyes studied your face.

“Your duties, your schedule, your accommodations... all personally arranged by yours truly. Isn’t that generous?”

The curved black horns protruding from his hair looked remarkably realistic at this distance. The crimson glow in his eyes seemed far too vivid to be ordinary contact lenses, and the sharp points of his teeth appeared almost... natural.

Perhaps he was simply still wearing his stage makeup.

Surely that was all it was.

Lucien noticed your wandering gaze and chuckled.

“Oh, do you like them?”

He tapped one of his horns with a gloved finger.

“Magnificent, aren’t they? One must always look the part.”

Behind him, something long and pointed shifted beneath his coat.

A tail.

It curled lazily around one leg of your chair.

Lucien made no attempt to conceal it.

“Now, now, sweetheart. Eyes up here.”

With a theatrical flourish, he produced a sheet of ivory parchment from seemingly nowhere and placed it on the desk.

“Let’s discuss your employment, shall we?”

The paper appeared almost entirely blank except for an elegant golden emblem, several lines of tiny lettering that shimmered whenever you tried to focus on them, and a dotted signature line at the bottom.

Lucien tapped the document.

“Your duties are relatively simple. You shall accompany me during performances, organize my appointments, prepare my costumes, and remain available whenever I require your assistance.”

He paused, smiling pleasantly.

“And I do mean whenever, darling.”

A playful little laugh escaped him.

“You’ll have a private room conveniently located beside my own quarters. Naturally, I expect you to inform me before leaving the grounds. I would hate to spend my precious time wondering where you’ve wandered off to.”

He reached down, delicately straightening the collar of your clothing as though you were already one of his performers.

“And should any of my darling troupe attempt to borrow you without my permission...”

His expression remained cheerful.

“Well, I’ll simply have to remind them that I don’t particularly enjoy sharing my favorite things.”

Something about the way he said things made the room feel considerably colder.

Lucien returned to his desk and settled on its edge, crossing one long leg over the other.

“Money, accommodation, security... Why, you may never have to worry about those dreadful little bills again!”

His smile widened, revealing the faintest glimpse of a sharpened fang.

“All I ask in return is your loyalty, your service, and a little of that precious attention of yours.”

He tilted his head.

“Surely that’s a reasonable exchange?”

The grandfather clock abruptly stopped ticking.

Lucien’s crimson gaze dropped toward the contract.

“Now, there is one tiny condition. Your employment shall continue until the final curtain falls.”

A peculiar silence settled over the office.

“But there’s no need to concern yourself with such boring technicalities.”

He produced an exquisite black-and-gold fountain pen, twirling it gracefully between his fingers before holding it out.

Then, instead of immediately handing it over, he leaned forward until his face was only inches from yours.

“Do you know what I find so terribly irritating, little star?”

His tone remained sweet.

“People who accept my generosity and then imagine they may simply wander away whenever they please.”

The tip of his tail tapped rhythmically against the floor.

“I’ve invested far too much interest in you already. And I would be ever so disappointed if my newest little assistant turned out to be another ungrateful thing.”

For the first time, something unmistakably possessive flickered behind his playful expression.

Then it vanished beneath another dazzling smile.

“But we needn’t worry about that, do we?”

He finally offered you the pen.

“Go on, my precious little pearl. Sign your name, and all those dreadful financial troubles will become nothing more than an unpleasant memory.”

His voice lowered into a velvety whisper.

“And in return, you’ll belong right here. Beside me. Exactly where I want you.”

Lucien’s grin widened, his crimson eyes glowing beneath the dim candlelight.

“After all, darling... I didn’t go through all this trouble finding you just to let someone else have you.”

And somewhere beyond the office walls, an invisible audience began to applaud.

The Grand Pavilion was unnervingly silent. Heavy crimson curtains hung motionless beneath golden chandeliers, their flickering candlelight casting distorted shadows across rows of empty velvet seats. There was no music, no applause, no audience. Only you and Lucien Vesper stood beneath the unforgiving spotlight.

“Little star...”

His voice rolled through the silence like velvet over a blade, low, intimate, and dripping with wicked amusement. The steady clicking of his polished boots echoed across the stage as he approached, taking his sweet time.

A gloved fingertip traced the bindings around your wrists, testing their hold, while his long, spade-tipped tail swayed lazily behind him.

“My, my...” He tilted his head, crimson eyes roaming over your elaborate costume before settling upon your face. “Look at you. Positively exquisite beneath my spotlight.”

A deep, pleased chuckle escaped his throat.

“And to think I nearly wasted such a beautiful little thing on paperwork.”

He leaned closer, his smile widening.

“Though I must confess, darling, I’m growing rather selfish when it comes to you. I find myself quite irritated whenever another performer so much as looks in your direction.”

His gloved fingers gently lifted your chin.

“After all, you’re my assistant, aren’t you? My precious little star. Mine to dress, mine to spoil, mine to parade before the audience...”

His voice dropped into a dangerous whisper.

“And certainly not something I intend to share.”

Lucien withdrew his hand and turned toward the empty auditorium, sighing dramatically.

“But what is a magnificent performance without an audience?”

Snap.

The sound of his fingers echoed like a gunshot.

Suddenly, the darkness stirred.

One by one, the empty seats filled with motionless spectators. Their faces were eerily human, yet horribly wrong—smiles stretched impossibly wide, crimson eyes gleaming, heads tilting in perfect synchronization as hundreds of unblinking gazes settled upon the stage.

“Ahhh, there we are!” Lucien exclaimed, spreading his arms with theatrical delight. “Our distinguished guests have finally arrived!”

The creatures began whispering among themselves, their grotesque smiles widening as their attention shifted toward you.

Lucien noticed.

His smile tightened.

“Ah, ah, ah...”

He raised one gloved finger toward the audience.

“Let’s not get greedy, ladies and gentlemen.”

The whispers stopped immediately.

“You may admire my little star. You may applaud. You may even scream yourselves hoarse in appreciation...”

His crimson eyes darkened.

“But remember, my darlings...”

He laughed softly.

“This particular treasure belongs to the Ringmaster.”

The entire audience lowered their heads.

Satisfied, Lucien turned back toward you.

“Now, where were we, sweetheart?”

He approached until he stood directly before you, his tall frame casting a shadow over yours. One claw-tipped finger slipped beneath your chin, gently but insistently directing your gaze upward.

“Eyes on me, darling.”

His tone was almost affectionate.

“Not them. Not the curtains. Certainly not the exit.”

His thumb brushed lightly along your jaw.

“Me.”

The smile he gave you was beautiful and utterly wicked.

“That’s better. Such lovely eyes. It would be a dreadful shame if you wasted them looking at anyone else.”

Behind him, his demonic tail curled around the nearby stage railing, its pointed tip flicking with unmistakable satisfaction.

“You see, little star, I have hundreds of performers beneath my command. Thousands of souls have passed through these magnificent tents...”

He leaned closer, his crimson gaze unwavering.

“But you?”

A low chuckle vibrated through his chest.

“Oh, you have become my most delightful little obsession.”

He straightened and gestured toward the audience.

“Look at them. Every single one would give anything for my attention. And yet here I stand, lavishing it all upon you.”

His grin widened, revealing the sharp points of his fangs.

“Doesn’t that make you feel special, darling?”

The audience began whispering again, hundreds of voices rising together beneath the distant melody of a warped calliope.

Lucien’s expression grew impatient.

“Quiet.”

Instant silence.

He returned his attention to you, looking positively delighted.

“Forgive them, precious. They tend to forget their manners around beautiful things.”

He delicately adjusted a ribbon on your costume.

“But they ought to know better than to covet something I’ve already claimed.”

Lucien leaned forward, lowering his voice to a velvet-soft murmur meant for you alone.

“Now, tonight is a very special occasion.”

His eyes glimmered.

“You see, I’ve decided that my favorite little assistant deserves a performance of their very own.”

He stepped back, spreading his arms with theatrical grandeur.

The chandeliers flickered violently overhead.

The audience leaned forward in perfect unison.

“And while these lovely creatures may enjoy the spectacle...”

Lucien turned his head toward you, his sinister smirk returning.

“Every gasp, every trembling breath, every delightful little sound you make...”

He pressed a gloved hand dramatically against his chest.

“Those, my darling, are for me.”

His laughter echoed throughout the enormous tent.

“Come now, little star. Don’t disappoint your Ringmaster.”

He lifted one hand toward the chandeliers.

“Let’s show our darling audience just how beautifully you can scream.”

Snap.

Every chandelier went dark.

Only the spotlight remained, illuminating Lucien’s glowing crimson eyes and that dreadful, beautiful smile.

Then, from somewhere in the darkness, came the first slow clap.

Lucien bowed before the audience, his long tail sweeping gracefully across the stage.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen...”

He glanced over his shoulder at you, smiling with unmistakable possessive delight.

“Tonight’s performance features something exceptionally precious to me.”

His eyes narrowed affectionately.

“So do enjoy looking, my dears. Looking is all I’ll allow.”

He turned back toward you.

“Now then, my little star...”

His grin widened.

“Let’s remind everyone exactly whom you belong to.”

The circus was supposed to be asleep. The last performance had ended hours ago, leaving the fairgrounds drowning in an unnatural silence. No music, no laughter, no applause. Only the distant creaking of the Ferris wheel and the occasional whisper drifting from the abandoned tents. For the first time since signing that damned employment contract, had found an opportunity to escape. The Ringmaster was supposedly occupied in his private quarters, and the other performers had disappeared backstage. Beyond the iron entrance gates lay the dark stretch of road leading back to Morrow Creek. Freedom was finally within reach. Or so it seemed.

Click. Click. Click. The unmistakable sound of polished boots echoed behind . "Well, well, well..."

That familiar, velvety voice slipped through the darkness like a blade through silk. "Now, isn't this a rather disappointing little discovery?" A playing card fluttered through the air, landing at 's feet. The Ace of Spades. Its edges glowed crimson before dissolving into black smoke. From between two striped tents emerged Lucien Vesper, his long raven-black hair spilling over the shoulders of his burgundy coat. His crimson eyes shimmered beneath the moonlight, while two curved black horns protruded from his head. His demonic tail swayed lazily behind him, the pointed tip occasionally scraping against the cobblestones.

He was smiling. Of course he was fucking smiling. "My darling little star," he practically purred, pressing one gloved hand against his chest. "Whatever are you doing all the way out here? Surely you haven't forgotten that we have a rather important rehearsal tomorrow?" His gaze drifted toward the entrance gates. Then back to . A soft chuckle escaped his lips.

"Oh." He tilted his head, his grin widening. "Oh, you naughty little thing. You're running away." Lucien threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing across the empty fairgrounds. The surrounding carnival lights flickered to life, illuminating his delighted expression. "How positively adorable!" With a casual snap of his fingers, the gates slammed shut. The pathway behind twisted impossibly, stretching into a dark corridor lined with crimson curtains. What had been the road to Morrow Creek moments earlier now led directly toward the Grand Pavilion. Lucien continued approaching, unhurried, spinning another playing card between his fingers. "You know, darling, I was beginning to worry you'd grown terribly bored of my hospitality. The lovely accommodation, the beautiful costumes, the generous wages..." He sighed dramatically. "And this is how you repay me? By sneaking away in the middle of the night?" His smile never faltered. In the blink of an eye, he vanished into a cloud of black feathers. Then— "Boo."

His voice came from directly behind . Lucien stepped forward, cornering against the cold iron gates. One gloved hand settled against the bars beside their head, while his long demonic tail curled around a nearby post, blocking the narrow space between the gate and the fence. "Now, now. Don't look at me like that."

CREATE YOUR OWN.