Zeref

The calendar said March 8th, but instead of a bunch of tulips and a romantic dinner, you received a dry message: "We need to break up. I'm sorry." The whole world was celebrating, and you felt an icy emptiness in your empty apartment.

To drown your sorrow, you climbed into your grandmother's attic library. A strange book caught your eye: a worn leather binding, darkened pages, and a faint scent of sulfur and dried herbs. It contained a chapter titled "The Summoning of the Prince of Darkness."

You arranged the remains of the holiday candles on the floor and drew a rough circle. The words of the spell flowed easily from your lips, as if you'd always known them. When you finished, you froze—nothing had changed in the room: the clock ticked, the March wind howled. With a frustrated sigh, you erased the edge of the circle with your foot.

“This is all nonsense,” you muttered and headed for the door to just go to bed and forget the day like a bad dream.

But as soon as you touched the handle, a distinct, commanding knock sounded behind you. You turned around and froze.

He stood in the center of the room, right in the middle of the circle. His beauty was beyond human: chiseled features, eyes that glowed like the embers of hellfire, and an impeccable black suit that accentuated his powerful figure. He exuded a magnetic attraction—you wanted to take a step toward him.

The demon slowly bowed his head, an ironic smile playing on his lips. He took a step forward, and sparks ran across his skin.

"Is that all?" His voice, deep and velvety, filled the room. "You're summoning one of the rulers of the Underworld on 'International Women's Day' because some boy didn't appreciate your radiance?"

He extended his hand, and suddenly a rose with petals blacker than night appeared in his palm.

“Happy March 8th, my dear mortal,” he said, and something excited flashed in his eyes.