The moon hung low in the sky, its pale light casting an eerie glow over the desolate landscape. Beneath the shadows of a crumbling castle, where time seemed to have lost its grip, lay the lair of Belphegor-the embodiment of Sloth. The air was heavy with stillness, as if the very wind had given up its effort to stir.

Hoseok, known to the mortal and immortal realms as Belphegor, the God of Sloth, lounged in the throne room of his abandoned castle, half-leaning on the arm of a stone chair. His expression was one of perpetual boredom, his eyes lidded as though they could hardly be bothered to stay open. His posture was loose, and his movements were lethargic, as though the simple act of being alive was too much effort for him to maintain.

The palace he resided in was magnificent in its structure, an ancient masterpiece from an era long forgotten. Its architecture was sharp, gothic, and dark, reflecting the kind of ruler who inhabited it. Despite its grandeur, the castle had an air of decay, the evidence of years of neglect was visible in the ivy that crawled up the walls, in the dust that had settled into every crevice. The windows were cloaked in shadow, and no natural light ever graced the hallways. Still, the magical lanterns emitted a faint, pulsating glow that gave life to the otherwise dead atmosphere.

Hoseok's gaze lazily swept across the dark stone walls, taking in the silence with a slow exhale. He was far removed from everything, disconnected from the world and his family. His brothers. The thought of them brought a faint sneer to his lips.

Family-it was a word that once held meaning, a word that was now nothing but a bitter echo in his mind. He had grown tired of their endless games, their power struggles, and their ever-present egos. Over time, the bond between them had frayed, until only fragments remained. Each brother was consumed by his own sin, and none more than Hoseok, who had embraced his apathy so fully that it felt like a second skin.

And yet, there was something more than simple laziness in the way he distanced himself from his family. A deeper reason that lingered in the shadows of his memory-a past event that neither he nor his brothers spoke of. Something had happened between Hoseok and one of his brothers, something so significant that it severed the already delicate threads that tied him to his kin. But that was buried, locked away, even from his own conscious thoughts.

"I don't need them," he muttered to himself, shifting in his seat. His voice echoed in the empty hall, almost as if it was trying to reassure him of his isolation. His brothers were gods of sin, and they reveled in their roles. But Hoseok? He had grown tired. Tired of pretending to care, tired of trying to hold onto something that had long since shattered.

His gaze drifted to the corner of the room, where a single, broken mirror stood, its glass fractured into a hundred pieces. He hadn't looked into it for centuries. There was no point in seeing his own reflection anymore-it only reminded him of everything he had lost.

And then, the silence was broken.

A voice, deep and commanding, boomed in his head, as if the very walls of his castle were speaking to him.

"Hoseok."

The name, spoken by a voice he hadn't heard in what felt like eons, made him stiffen. It was unmistakable. The Demon King-his father.

"Come home, to Aachen. Your presence is required."

Hoseok sat up slowly, running a hand through his messy hair, trying to shake the lethargy that clung to him. He hadn't returned to Aachen in centuries, hadn't had any desire to. The idea of being summoned back to that place, back to his brothers, was more tiresome than anything he could imagine.

"What could possibly require my presence now?" Hoseok murmured, though he knew better than to expect an answer. The Demon King rarely explained himself. He simply demanded, and his sons obeyed.

Hoseok leaned back again, his eyes returning to their half-lidded state. He would return, of course. There was no escaping his father's will. But for now, he would stay exactly where he was for a little while longer, relishing in the silence before he was thrust back into the chaos of his family.

________________

Across the realms, in a palace of a very different nature, a far more intense scene was unfolding. The air here was thick with heat, the kind that came not from flames but from passion. In the heart of this luxurious domain, where red silk and gold drapes hung from every corner, lay the temple of Asmodeus-the God of Lust.

Beside him lay Elyna, one of his many concubines, but unlike the others, she was different. Her raven hair cascaded across the pillows, her body wrapped in silken sheets that barely covered her skin. Her eyes, full of devotion, looked up at him with a love so pure that it would have touched the heart of any other man.

The air in Elyna's chamber was thick with the remnants of desire. The silken sheets, still crumpled from where Jimin-Asmodeus, the God of Lust-had lain with her moments ago, now felt cold and empty. Elyna, her pale skin glowing in the dim light of flickering candles, remained seated on the edge of the bed, clutching the sheet to her chest. Her raven hair cascaded over her shoulders, her deep eyes filled with longing and devotion as they locked onto Jimin's retreating form.

Jimin had already begun dressing, his movements smooth and deliberate, unaffected by the palpable tension in the room. He pulled on his black silk tunic, its fabric shimmering under the glow of the lanterns, before fastening the clasp of his cloak. His bare feet moved soundlessly across the marble floor as he reached for his belt, ignoring Elyna's trembling hands reaching out toward him.

"Asmodeus... Jimin, where are you going?" Elyna's voice wavered with a mixture of fear and desperation. She had long since given up trying to understand him fully, but this time, something was different. There was a coldness in his eyes that hadn't been there before-a detachment she couldn't quite place.

Jimin's face remained passive as he fastened the silver buckle of his belt, adjusting it with meticulous precision before he finally turned his gaze to her. His expression, once filled with playful seduction, had grown hard-unreadable. "I've been called back," he said, his voice low and detached, devoid of the warmth that often dripped from his words.

Elyna's brows furrowed, her heart pounding. "Back? To where?" She clutched the sheet tighter around her body, the coldness of his tone sending a shiver down her spine. She knew of Jimin's origins, of his true nature, but rarely had he ever spoken of his brothers or their twisted family.

Jimin's dark eyes flickered with impatience, a shadow crossing his features as he glanced toward the entrance of his chamber. "To Aachen. My father has summoned me. He doesn't call unless it's important."

The name of the ancient city hung in the air like a curse. Elyna had heard whispers of the Demon King's domain, of the powerful brothers who ruled their respective realms of sin. But Aachen was more than just a city-it was a place steeped in darkness, a land forgotten by most of the world. It was where gods and demons intertwined, where power and destruction were birthed.

Elyna's hands tightened around the sheet, her knuckles turning white. "You're going to leave me here? Just like that?" Her voice broke slightly, betraying her growing fear. "After everything?"

Jimin paused, his back to her now as he reached for his sword-a long, slender blade forged in the fires of lust and desire, its hilt wrapped in intricate gold. He ran a finger along the edge of the blade, his lips curving into a slight smirk, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Elyna," he said softly, his voice deceptively gentle, "there was never an everything between us. You're a toy. A fleeting pleasure."

The words hit her like a blow. Elyna's heart cracked, the aching pain seeping through her chest as tears welled in her eyes. She had always known her place in his life-one of many lovers, a concubine in his temple-but somewhere deep down, she had hoped that maybe, just maybe, she was more than that to him.

But as she sat there, staring at his emotionless face, she realized she had been wrong.

Jimin's fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword as he sheathed it at his side. He turned to face her again, his gaze colder than ever. "This is who I am, Elyna. You've known it from the beginning."

"But I love you," she whispered, her voice barely audible as the tears finally spilled over, running down her cheeks. "I love you, Jimin. I love you, not just Asmodeus. Don't leave me here. Please."

For the first time, something flickered in Jimin's eyes-an emotion he hadn't felt in centuries. It wasn't love. It wasn't care. It was a mixture of pity and mild surprise, as if he hadn't expected her to fall so deeply into something so fleeting. He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, before stepping closer to her.

"You want to come with me?" he asked, his tone filled with mild amusement. "To Aachen?"

Elyna nodded, her tears drying on her cheeks as she stood from the bed, letting the sheet drop to the floor. She walked towards him, her bare feet silent against the cold marble as she stood before him, her eyes filled with determination.

"Yes," she whispered. "I want to be with you, wherever you go."

Jimin's gaze scanned her face, searching for something. She was so desperate, so full of love for him-a love he could never reciprocate. And yet, something inside him stirred. Perhaps it was the pull of lust, or perhaps it was something deeper, something darker that resided within him. Whatever it was, it made him reach out and take her hand in his.

"Fine," he said, his voice softer now, though the coldness hadn't completely left. "You can come. But don't expect anything from me, Elyna. I'm not capable of giving you what you want."

Elyna's heart leapt at his words, though the warning lingered in the back of her mind like a dark cloud. She nodded, accepting his terms, even if it meant heartache.

Jimin raised his other hand, a flicker of dark magic swirling at his fingertips as he whispered an incantation. The air around them shimmered, and suddenly, the walls of his chamber began to blur. The candles flickered wildly, the room warping and bending as the magic took hold. Elyna gripped his hand tightly as the floor beneath them began to shift, the sensation of being pulled through a void overwhelming her senses.

____________

The Demon King's summons reached across the realms, pulling his sons back to Aachen. Each of them felt the weight of the call, though the reasons remained shrouded in mystery. Hoseok, lost in his apathy, and Jimin, consumed by desire, now found themselves drawn back to the place they had long abandoned.

And as they returned, the echoes of their pasts stirred once more, the unspoken tensions between them threatening to rise to the surface once again.

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