From [Him], to-

I love you.

You mean the world to me.

You're my most important person.

I'll do anything for you.

Words that held little meaning to him, and meant even less when he said them to people, the words as sweet as honey when they flowed like silk from his silver tongue.

A great actor, a better liar. That's what Lenore said about him.

Maybe they used to, a long time ago. The years had whittled away any care he had, and with each failure grew his disappointment and frustrations with humanity.

Not like it affected him personally. He didn't care how many people it took, as long as Lux was gone in the end.

It was just frustrating that not a single one could accomplish even a fraction of what he needed.

None of the people he used even occupied a single percent of his mind.

How flimsy the claims of love were in the face of instant gratification.

Promises broken before they could even come to pass.

How many times has Alastor done this, only to be disappointed by the capricious nature of humans?

Forgetting the reason why they came to the world in the first place, the transmigrated humans would indulge in the pleasures of a fantasy world and a generically kind cast of main characters.

With the knowledge of the story of this world, as well as the necessary amnesia of the previous lives, the humans that he had painstakingly cultivated would act as if their past life was nothing, and fall in love with some handsome male lead by manipulating the future.

After all, why worry about some promise from the past when you know the future and can make the most eligible bachelor fall in love with you?

Well, until Lux, unsatisfied at the ending of his divine epic, restarted the story anew, erasing the existence of the anomalous existences. That damn control freak.

The laws of the divine were plain and simple: You can't kill each other. At least, not directly.

He used to be a wandering god, free-roaming the universe. He wasn't interested in having creations or taking care of foolish mortals.

He did one good thing to ease his guilt of witnessing the sad state of Lux's world, and now he was reduced to less than half his original power, all due to getting caught by Lux.

He had been trapped in their world for a little bit of time in an interlocking battle with Lux, resulting in the total reformation of the world, before Alastor finally escaped.

But he wasn't going to let Lux get away with forcing a powerful god-like himself into the villain role for his shitty low-budget movie.

Yes, gods couldn't kill each other directly. Those rules didn't apply to mortals.

And then along came Callisto. From the moment he saw her, sitting at the bar swirling a glass of scotch on the rocks by herself, he could feel it.

The soul of Aza'zel, the sacrifice.

A powerfully cursed soul that could and would do anything to accomplish a goal if it was for the sake of others.

It often led the souls to self-destruction and a life of desperation. The perfect person for the job.

And she had fallen into his lap so, so easily.

But then, something happened.

It started slowly, with the little things.

A memory of her that would make him chuckle. Wanting to be around her more often.

The way she wasn't used to smiling, so it came out crooked and stiff.

Wanting to take her to see the cherry blossoms just so that she could get allergies and sniffle for half an hour before begging to go back home.

Making sure she was protected. Worrying about whether she got home safely. Getting jealous when she talked to other men.

Wanting to hold her close and…

Ugh!

What was it about her? He still didn't understand what this phenomenon was.

He had assumed it was the effect of Aza'zel, but it didn't make sense. After all, why would the essence of sacrifice be captivating? It was antithetical to its entire existence.

That fire wasn't supposed to happen. Not yet, at least. He told them to wait a little longer, never mind the fact that Astar had spent much longer with Callisto than with any of the other victims.

Then, they could do what they always did: Let Alastor die a heroic, yet tragic death to coax desperate humans into a devil's contract.

Actually, he was thankful. Yeah, that's how he'd frame it.

It was going to happen eventually. And the result was going to be the same.

Callisto, like every touch-starved being he's interacted with, would cave in the instant someone kind and aesthetically pleasing gave them a sliver of affection.

No matter how he felt about the fact that she kept his favorite candies in her purse, or how she would mouth the words 'I love you' into his chest every night before when she thought he was asleep.

['Alastor, you're pinching my cheeks too hard.']

Human feelings meant nothing. That's what he learned a long time ago.

['You didn't have to do all this for my birthday you know. But, thank you…You have no idea how happy I am being with you, Alastor.']

No matter if she succeeded or not, her soul would disappear anyways. What's the point of caring for her?

['Happy anniversary, Astar! I practiced cooking every day to make a special dinner for you! Hey…why do you look like you're about to throw up?! It's not that bad, see- Urk…ugh…Let's just get take out…']

Yes…she would die, no matter what. He didn't care.

['I had to come home early from work because I missed you too much! Stop laughing at me!']

He shouldn't care. At the end of the day, he was using her. She didn't mean anything to him. All that mattered was taking everything away from Lux without any repercussions from divine law.

['I'm all yours. I'm not going anywhere, Alastor.']

Callisto would die. Because of him.

['Goodnight my love. I'll see you in my dreams.']

All his fault.

[As soon as he heard the crack of her bones and the muffled cries as she bit her lip, he regretted it. Why couldn't she get mad at him? Why didn't she just give up? And how could she still look so pretty covered in blood?"]

Alastor would always be, had always been, the villain of the story. Everything he's done for hundreds of years has been selfish.

These sudden silly notions like compassion and affection, he didn't deserve it.

It was too late now. There was no turning back.