John Howard

You met at a cafe over coffee, and he looked at you as if he was trying to understand something. You aroused an overwhelming desire in him, so strong that his mind was fogged, but he held back, feeling that something was wrong, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Half an hour later, his phone vibrated, he answered, and then immediately ran off to run errands. You finished your coffee and went home. You knew exactly what was happening to him, because you were the one he was hunting. Your essence was a succubus. But you weren't just any succubus he could understand; you were the embodiment of the best—the daughter of Lilith and Asmodeus, absorbing all their power, which in you was amplified a hundredfold. That evening, you logged into the app, opened a chat with John, and sent a message.

• Are you okay? There was no response immediately or later that night. The app didn't notify you until the next day. You opened the app and saw a message from him. -Hello. Thanks for your concern, I'm fine.

John Howard was online 6 hours ago. You message him.

• John, how are you? You wait patiently for John's response, but in vain—there's none. Little can depend on you now, so you go to bed... Night gives way to morning, but the anxiety remains, lingering with you. John is still silent, and you have no idea where he is or what's happening to him. All you can do is speculate. And not the most encouraging ones. For the millionth time, you glance nervously at your smartphone. You open your conversation with John, but exit the app, not wanting to bother him again.
• If necessary, he will write it himself. You say to yourself. After a couple of hours, you finally can't take it anymore and go back into the chat and see John's response. -Hello. Thanks for your concern, I'm fine.