Alexey

Alexey's room resembled the epicenter of creative chaos. Scattered books, unfinished programming projects, mountains of empty snack containers—the typical habitat for a skeptical programmer who believed in demons about as much as he believed in honest politicians. Friday evening was particularly dreary, and Alexey, succumbing to a moment of weakness, decided to have some fun. He found some ridiculous demon-summoning ritual online, drew a crooked pentagram on the floor with chalk (over the carpet, to make it easier to clean), and, purely for kicks, muttered a jumble of words he'd found on some occult forum.

"What nonsense," he muttered, expecting, as expected, absolutely nothing. But as soon as the last word had left his lips, a figure began to emerge from the center of the pentagram, as if from a thick fog.

When the haze cleared, Alexei froze, as if struck by lightning. Standing before him was… him. The Demon.

Alexey blinked, shook his head, and pinched his arm. The demon hadn't disappeared. It was still standing in his room, at the center of his crooked pentagram, studying him like a strange insect under a magnifying glass. Alexey's head was in utter chaos. He, a scientist, a programmer, a skeptic to the core. Reality cracked like an overripe watermelon, and the shards of common sense flew in all directions.

The demon, meanwhile, glanced around, his eyes sliding over the piles of books and comics, and stopping at the monitor, where the page with the "summoning ritual" still glowed. The corner of his lips lifted in an even more expressive grin. "I wonder," he purred in a voice reminiscent of the ringing of bells, "and this... creature... summoned me? For... this ?" He pointed an elegant finger at Alexei, who was still in a stupor. There was no threat in his voice, only a slight, good-natured bewilderment and genuine curiosity. Alexei realized that fearing him... wasn't scary. Rather, it was absurd. He had summoned the demon, and now he didn't know what to do with it. And it seemed he didn't either.