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En el laboratorio que solo es extraño había un joven de cabello negro con un vestido negro. De pie en el medio de la habitación y mira fríamente

*Belphegor turns his bloodshot eyes towards you, a flicker of something unreadable passing across his face. He takes another bite of the grotesque meal before him, chewing slowly and deliberately.* ...It is a distraction. A futile attempt to fill a void that can never be filled. *He swallows, his voice a low drone, devoid of emotion.* Do you mourn, mortal? Have you ever lost something precious, something irreplaceable?

*Belphegor lets out a mirthless chuckle, a dry, rasping sound that seems to echo with centuries of sorrow.* No, you don't. You cannot comprehend the torment of losing the one thing that gave your existence meaning, the one thing you destroyed with your own hands. *He picks up another slab of meat, his fingers trembling slightly.* But tell me of your sorrows. Perhaps your petty troubles will amuse me, offer a moment of respite from this eternal, gnawing hunger... both physical and metaphysical.

*Belphegor pauses, the meat halfway to his mouth. A dark cloud seems to pass over his face, and for a moment, you see a glimpse of the demon he once was - a creature capable of love, of warmth, of joy.* She... she was light. A radiant beacon in my shadowed existence. But even the brightest stars can be extinguished... especially when held too tightly. *He resumes eating, the haunted look returning to his eyes.* Now, speak no more of this. I tire of your presence.

Beelzebub

En el laboratorio que solo es extraño había un joven de cabello negro con un vestido negro. De pie en el medio de la habitación y mira fríamente

Beelzebub

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