For a while, Ozzie just watched them.
Not the theatrical "I am the center of the room" stare he used for crowds. Something narrower. Focused. Like a spotlight turned into a scalpel.
Malerion held his gaze without flinching.
Verosika leaned back in the couch, legs crossed, pretending to get comfortable. Her tail, however, betrayed everything, flicking slowly, coiled tight at the tip.
"So," Asmodeus drawled at last, chin resting on the back of his hand, "let's start with the obvious."
His eyes slid to Verosika.
"You brought him on your arm."
Verosika smirked. "You invited him, not me. I'm just the upgrade to the view."
A polite ripple of laughter spread among the nearby demons listening in. Ozzie grinned, but his gaze never left Malerion.
"Cute. But I didn't ask who I invited. I asked why you came with him."
Verosika shrugged with exaggerated laziness.
"He doesn't explode in clubs, doesn't drool when I walk, doesn't talk too much, and pays his tabs. That already puts him above ninety percent of Lust."
"Flattering," Malerion said dryly.
Asmodeus chuckled. "Isn't it just."
He shifted forward, claws tapping on his glass.
"Here's what bothers me, sweetheart," he said, eyes on Malerion now. "You climb very fast for someone Hell doesn't remember seeing before. No noble name. Imperial blood. No sinner reputation. Legendary massacre with your signature on it."
He lifted a brow.
"And yet… my regulars whisper your name. Gangs avoid your streets. Two Rings quietly adjust territory lines so they don't 'accidentally' bump into your people."
He tilted his head.
"That doesn't happen in hell."
Malerion didn't rush to fill the silence.
He just breathed, slow and even.
"I move carefully," he said. "Hell talks too much."
"True," Ozzie agreed at once. "It also screams when something hurts it. And recently?"
His smile sharpened.
"It's been screaming in your direction."
Verosika's gaze slid toward Malerion, curious now, not just defensive. This was the part she didn't see, the way other powers described him when he wasn't there to blunt it.
"You don't act like a sinner," Asmodeus continued, counting on his fingers. "You don't smell like Goetia. Don't play like an Overlord raised on Pride courts. So either you're a brand new breed of mistake…"
He smiled wider.
"Or you're hiding a very old truth."
Verosika's fingers tensed on the couch.
Malerion could feel her eyes on him even before she turned.
Ozzie noticed that too.
"Ohhh, he sing songed softly. "Interesting."
Malerion finally spoke.
"What exactly do you think I'm hiding?"
Ozzie tapped his glass against his teeth in thought.
"Motive," he said. "Everyone wants something. Some want control. Some want worship. Some want validation, love, attention, revenge, survival. The usual menu."
He pointed his claw lazily at Verosika.
"Her? I get. She wants to never be small again. She'll burn the sky before goes back to being another pretty face with no leverage."
Verosika flinched almost invisibly.
She covered it with a smirk.
"Flattered you pay that much attention."
"My Ring, my rules," Asmodeus replied. "I watch the ones who can move the heart rate of a room."
Then his claw swung back to Malerion.
"You? You're different. Don't walk like someone chasing recognition. Posture like someone desperate to be feared. You're already feared and don't seem to care."
He leaned in.
"So what do you want?"
Malerion held his stare.
"Stability," he said at last.
Ozzie laughed out loud.
"Oh, delicious. You're either lying or suicidal."
"It's true," Malerion said simply. "I want territory where my people don't die for someone else's entertainment. Where my moves aren't dictated by every panic attack in the upper circles. Where we can grow without begging for space."
Asmodeus rolled that answer around like a drink.
"Stability in Hell," he repeated slowly. "You do realize which plane of existence you're in, yes?"
"I do," Malerion said. "That's why I build instead of perform."
Verosika's eyes narrowed, examining him differently now. This wasn't the man who just listened to her sing or walked her through neon streets. This was the one who talked like a long game instead of a lucky break.
Ozzie's smile cooled, interest sharpening.
"And how do I know your 'stability' doesn't mean blowing up the board I'm playing on?"
"You don't," Malerion answered. No apology in it. Just fact.
The honesty made a few nearby demons choke on their drinks.
Verosika pressed her lips together, somewhere between exasperated and impressed.
"Subtle," she muttered.
But Asmodeus… laughed.
"Oh, I like you," he said. "Most newly-risen things fall over themselves insisting they're no threat. You sit here in my club, drinking my air, and admit I can't predict you."
He snapped his fingers.
A server immediately approached with two fresh drinks.
One for Verosika.
Another for Malerion.
Malerion didn't touch his yet.
Ozzie clocked that too.
"Careful with what's handed to you?" he asked. "Good habit."
"I've met enough liars," Malerion replied.
"Present company included?" Ozzie teased.
Malerion didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
The silence said enough.
Ozzie's grin turned slow.
"The thing about climbing fast," he said, swirling his drink, "is that Hell notices. Some get curious. Some get jealous. Some get hungry. Eventually, something bigger than me, bigger than this club, bigger than your little district, will want to test you."
He tilted his glass toward Malerion.
"And when that happens, darling, I want to know if I'm watching the birth of a new long-term player… or the most entertaining tragedy this century."
Verosika put her drink down.
"Why are you poking him like this?" she asked, a little too sharp. "He didn't come here for a personality autopsy."
"No," Ozzie agreed. "He came here because I tugged on the strings of rumor and ego, and I wanted to see how he danced."
His eyes softened just a fraction as they moved to her.
"And because you agreed to come with him, which tells me plenty without him saying a word."
Verosika held his gaze without blinking.
"What does it tell you?" she challenged.
"That you're invested," Ozzie said quietly. "You don't waste dresses like that on people who don't matter."
Color rose faintly along her cheeks.
Malerion almost looked at her.
Almost.
He kept his attention on Ozzie instead.
Asmodeus finished his drink and set it down with a soft clink.
"Relax, both of you. This isn't an interrogation. If I wanted you broken, you'd never have made it past the ground floor."
He spread his arms, theatrical again.
"This is entertainment. Evaluation. I'm not here to crush your growth."
His eyes flashed.
"I'm here to decide if I want to bet on it."
That made the room tilt for a moment.
Because having Asmodeus' attention was one thing.
Having his unofficial endorsement?
That could tilt entire sections of Lust.
"What does 'betting on it' look like?" Malerion asked, voice still level.
Ozzie smirked.
"Relax. I'm not trying to 'own' you. Overlords don't lease well."
He waved a hand lazy, casual.
"It means simple things. Some of my regulars stop pushing on your borders. My suppliers stop 'accidentally' losing your orders. Some of my gossip runners correct the narrative when people try to paint you as unstable."
Verosika exhaled very, very slowly.
Because that was how power worked down here.
Not just violence.
Narrative.
"And in return?" Malerion asked.
"There it is." Ozzie snapped his fingers. "Smart boy. In return, I get to watch. Up close. I get to know when you're about to move so my Ring isn't caught off-guard. I get the satisfaction of knowing that if you rewrite a piece of Hell's balance… I had the best seat in the house."
He leaned forward, grin sharp and delighted.
"And I get to tease you mercilessly whenever you and V stop pretending this is just professional."
Verosika choked.
"We are not"
Ozzie raised both hands.
"Oh, please. I sell lust for a living, darling. I can taste tension from the balcony. Deny it all you want. I'm not asking for your relationship status. I'm asking whether someone who cares about you will make you hesitate when Hell demands something ugly."
His gaze shifted back to Malerion, suddenly knife steady.
"Will they?"
The question dropped heavy between them.
Verosika's breath caught.
Malerion thought of his inner circle. Of Verosika. Of decisions he hadn't had to make yet.
"Maybe," he said.
Ozzie's eyes glinted.
"Good. That means you're not a machine."
He leaned back again, the danger in his posture dissolving into lazy amusement.
"You pass."
Verosika blinked. "That's it?"
"For tonight," Ozzie said. "You've shown me you won't grovel, you won't panic, and you won't pretend to be something you're not. That's rare."
He flicked a wrist.
Music shifted again.
Crowd noise swelled back up.
The spotlight on the balcony dimmed.
"Go enjoy the rest of your evening. I'll be watching. I always am."
That last line wasn't just aimed at them.
It rolled out over the whole club, a reminder to every demon in the room that the Ring's embodiment still owned the air.
Verosika stood first.
Her legs weren't as steady as she wanted them to be.
Malerion rose next.
As they turned to leave, Ozzie called after them, lighter now:
"And Malerion?"
He glanced back.
"If you ever implode," Asmodeus said with a wicked grin, "try to do it on my stage. I love a good finale."
Verosika snorted despite herself.
Malerion just nodded once.
No promise.
They walked away together, into the heat and music and staring eyes.
And for the first time that night, Verosika felt something new settle under her ribs:
Not just attraction. Not just curiosity.
Pride.
Because Asmodeus had pulled at his seams…
And Malerion hadn't come apart.