Sin Rouge was busy.
Not loud busy like most Lust Ring nightspots, but layered-busy:
Clinking glasses.
Low conversations.
Quiet deals in dark corners.
Quill's newest machine humming behind the bar like a half-tamed beast.
It was the kind of night where everything felt under control.
Which was exactly why everyone noticed when the air shifted.
The front door opened, and for a moment the neon outside carved a sharp line through the red haze of the bar.
Skit, waddling past with a tray twice his size, got three steps toward the entrance, froze, and nearly dropped everything.
"…Oh shit," he whispered.
Bit slammed into him from behind.
"What? What? Is it the tax office again or.
Then he saw her too.
Pink hair.
Flawless makeup.
Leather jacket.
A lazy, sharp-eyed saunter like the entire world was a stage and she was deciding whether it deserved her performance.
Verosika Mayday stepped across the threshold of Sin Rouge like she owned the place.
The bar did not go silent.
But it tightened.
Dreg straightened by the wall.
Two card players paused mid argument.
Donnie, counting coin behind the counter, lifted her eyes and quietly hid the pouch.
Quill stared for half a second, muttering:
"Oh. Fantastic. The universe sent us a walking tabloid headline."
Liza wasn't visible, but Malerion knew she had already taken a new vantage point.
Verosika let the room's attention wash over her and smirked, like she expected it.
She stepped further in, heels tapping lightly.
"Evening," she said, voice smooth and warm. "I was told this is where I find answers."
Bit squeaked.
"She talks like a contract."
Skit elbowed him.
"Shut up, she's live."
Dreg moved to intercept, polite but firm.
"This isn't a fan bar," he rumbled. "We don't do shows here."
She gave him the look she reserved for demons who weren't worth her eyelashes.
"Relax, tall and grumpy.
I'm not here to sing.
I'm here to talk."
Dreg didn't flinch, but his tone shifted.
"To who?"
She scanned the bar slowly.
"To whoever your people keep blocking every time I ask about a certain demon who stands like he belongs in the wrong ring."
A few heads turned.
Rafe straightened from the far wall.
He looked at Verosika, then toward the staircase.
"Wait here," he said.
She sighed sharply.
"I hate being told that."
"Still telling you," Rafe replied, already walking.
MALERION'S OFFICE
Malerion was in his office when Rafe entered without waiting.
"She's here."
No need to confirm who.
"How many?" Malerion asked.
"Just her. No manager, no handler. Band's not with her.
Either she's reckless or confident."
"With her, those are the same thing."
"What do you want to do?" Rafe asked.
For a long time, the answer would have been simple:
Avoid.
Deflect.
Disappear.
Not tonight.
"Bring her up," Malerion said. "Alone."
Rafe nodded and left.
VEROSIKA ENTERS
Verosika hated waiting especially in unfamiliar territory, surrounded by people who pretended not to stare.
She'd taken a table, crossed one leg over the other, and was halfway through judging the bar's lighting when Rafe returned.
"Boss will see you."
She arched a brow.
"'Boss,' huh? Subtle."
"Careful," Skit whispered behind her. "He actually lives up to the name."
Bit kicked his ankle.
Verosika didn't reply.
She stood, rolled her shoulders, and followed Rafe upstairs.
The hallway was narrow, lined with sound-dampening panels and faint rune-light. It smelled of ink, paper, and old tension.
Rafe knocked once and opened the door.
"Verosika Mayday."
Malerion stood by the window, looking out at the glowing Lust Ring.
He didn't turn until she fully stepped inside.
Dark eyes.
Calm expression.
No swagger.
No magic flex.
Just presence.
"Verosika," he said. "Welcome to Sin Rouge territory."
She tilted her head.
"Nice to finally hear you talk directly. I was starting to think you only existed as a rumor and a weird feeling in my spine."
Rafe left them alone.
THE FIRST REAL CONVERSATION
For a moment, they simply looked at each other.
She spoke first.
"You're not what I expected."
"Likewise."
She moved closer, resting an elbow on the chair opposite him enough to test his boundaries, not enough to cross them.
"Let's cut the foreplay," she said. "I've seen you where you don't belong. I've felt something around you I don't feel anywhere else.
I asked about you, and suddenly every snitch, rat and manager I know hits the same invisible wall."
Her eyes narrowed.
"And that wall smells like Sin Rouge."
Malerion didn't deny it.
Your network is good, he said. But not better than mine. I don't like my name used as gossip.
"So you blocked it."
I redirected it, he corrected. For your safety and mine.
She laughed, amused.
"My safety. Cute."
He didn't argue.
She studied him, then asked:
"Who are you?"
Malerion Uroboros, he replied. Owner of this bar. Head of the organization that runs this district. And the reason a handful of predatory agents haven't dragged you into contracts you'd regret for eternity.
She blinked.
"…What?"
You have talent, he said. Talent attracts parasites. Some of those parasites belong to nobles who already dislike me. Allowing them to sink into you would be… inefficient.
Her tail twitched.
"So you've been cleaning my backstage?"
Not cleaning, he said. Filtering.
She stared.
"Why?"
Because you generate noise, he said. Useful noise. Emotion. Attention. Movement. You stir the ring. And I prefer that energy not be owned by idiots or nobles."
She blinked.
"That is the most unromantic thing anyone's ever said about me."
I don't do romance.
I do structure."
"Yeah, I can smell that," she muttered. "You feel like someone scrubbed you with bleach and dropped you into the Lust Ring by mistake."
He huffed softly.
You keep saying I don't fit.
"Because you don't," she said. "You aren't a noble. You aren't a gangster. You aren't a merc. You aren't trash. You're… wrong. In a weird way that gets under the skin."
She crossed her arms.
"Where are you from?"
He didn't lie.
Not from here.
Not originally.
Her eyes sharpened.
"Another ring?"
Eventually. But that's not what you're asking.
She clicked her tongue.
"You're infuriating."
I've heard that before.
She exhaled.
"All right. Then what do you want from me?"
Right now? For you to understand where you're standing.
She gestured around her.
"A bar office with terrible lighting?"
A territory stable enough that lesser Goetia don't dare step into it directly, Malerion said. A network that survived their hybrid war. And a place where your name is already on a few of their letters.
Her expression hardened.
"…You're calling me a weak point."
No. I'm calling you a visible point. And visible things get pulled.
She went quiet.
He continued:
When nobles panic, they look for toys to break. You're bright enough to be tempting.
Her jaw tightened.
"I'm nobody's toy."
I know, he said. That's why I kept certain hands off you.
She studied him again differently now.
"So I'm an asset."
Yes.
"Is that all I am to you?"
No.
He said it simply.
You're someone with teeth. And I prefer interesting people alive.
She smiled faintly.
"Careful. Say things like that and I might think you like me."
I don't dislike you.
Her tail flicked.
"Fine. Then tell me the rule."
When you step into Sin Rouge, Malerion said, you're under my protection.
But if you bring danger into my territory on purpose… I'll treat you like any other threat.
She nodded slowly.
"Good. I hate double standards."
She turned to leave, then paused at the door.
"One last thing."
He raised a brow.
If I ask about you again, she said softly, I want my questions to reach you, not a wall.
Then next time, he said, ask me directly."
Their eyes locked for a beat too long.
This would complicate everything.
She smiled.
"See you around, Malerion."
Count on it.
When she left, the office felt quieter.
Alastor slid into his thoughts with a satisfied purr:
"Well. You've done it now."
Yes, Malerion answered.
And for the first time, he didn't feel like he'd broken the canon.
He felt like he'd finally stepped into the life that truly belonged to him.