A spicy dish

ㅤ A crowd of girls had once again gathered around the Chosen, each of whom he, Zelos Wilder, could name. His memory for beauties was excellent, memorizing the smallest details. Where they met, when, under what circumstances—he could name them all off the top of his head. He could make any heart tremble. Sometimes, admittedly, it wasn't because of their love for him… But he left no one indifferent! And into this tangle of pure poison entered mazoku, the most powerful of the non-lords. But the poison there was not for him, for truly positive emotions, bringing both light and death, were few: the girls willingly poisoned themselves with rotten feelings. They poisoned their souls with self-deception and false hope, tormenting their hearts with aching pain. And those who didn't dare turn their desires and fantasies into reality watched from the sidelines, channeling saturated waves of envy. Mazoku Zelos was amused by how one of the purest emotions, capable of killing those like him, brought more pain and suffering—food for him—than joy to people's lives. Few, even when they achieved their goal, experienced true happiness in love. Often, this feeling literally turned life into torture. Therefore, mazoku Zelos never feared bright feelings, for they always had a dark side. Unlike the growing and all-consuming negativity. The look that the loving Zelos gave the mazoku was truly delicious. So much so that mazoku opened an eye. Sly. Emphasized his smirk, which many mistook for a welcoming smile. After all, how could a wandering priest bring evil with him? But the Chosen One knew him too well to buy into it. Nevertheless, he continued to play his part. "Look who has honored us with his presence!" the Chosen turned the girls' attention to him, gloating inwardly as he caught mazoku wince ever so slightly after the wave of delight directed at him. Had the Chosen known that it was precisely his ill-feeling that had helped them survive this minor misfortune, he would hardly have been so pleased. The Chosen and the mysterious priest—two representatives of the Martel Church who evoked sinful thoughts. Wherever they appeared, a noisy crowd formed around them. But no matter how much the people adored them, they were merely a backdrop to a silent, dark game. And no matter how much the Chosen One wanted, mazoku gained more from the deal than he did. "My apologies, beautiful ladies, but I must temporarily kidnap our Chosen," mazoku said sweetly. "I promise to return him safe and sound." As they stood side by side, the two objects of unhealthy adoration, the girls' hearts burned. As they turned their backs and walked through the closed door, their hearts bled and moaned uncontrollably, transforming into a whirlwind of myriad emotions. Mazoku Zelos sometimes felt as if he would one day be overwhelmed, unable to accept so many gifts. Where else would people literally offer themselves on a platter? When they were alone, the Chosen's smile vanished completely. He said unkindly: "Speak." "Your popularity is growing," mazoku began his regular report with artificial cheerfulness. "The persistence of your enemies is astounding," he added, a little more seriously, then turning to complaint: "But the monotony is tiring; they don't even try to come up with anything new. I'm thinking maybe I should let at least one of them go, so that at least something will change." "No way," the Chosen said sternly. "The last thing I need is for anyone to find out that my sister is being guarded by mazoku." "Why mazoku right away? Just a fellow priest," Zelos proudly raised his index finger, as if explaining something elementary. The Chosen thought seriously. He had long since realized that the deal with mazoku was a lifelong one. His sister would not be safe until he died. Many power-hungry manipulators, unable to cope with the Chosen himself, had tried to kidnap his little sister. And since one Zelos couldn't be with her all the time, he had to resort to the services of another Zelos. The price—a mere handful of broken hearts. "How much do you want this time?" The Chosen One was no stranger to cruelty. Though he sincerely adored "his sweethearts", none of them meant anything, and in place of one disappointed one, a dozen dreaming of hope would replace them. And even those whom he had brought to tears, either accidentally or intentionally, often returned, unable to bear the separation. "Oh, I've already received the most valuable payment," something in his voice alarmed the Chosen, as if a thousand thin, sharp cones had passed through his body. "Such deep sorrow seems designed to tease mazoku." The false priest opened his eyes slightly, his gaze piercing Zelos's soul. The Chosen easily understood what he was talking about. "Oh, you!" he said, drawing his sword, his emotions surging, pointing it at the fiend of darkness. "Don't even dare think about it!" "Oh, what are you saying? I don't feed on her emotions," mazoku raised his hands, demonstrating his innocence and openness, "I merely sense them. Think of them as scents. And you are the master cook. Let me give you some advice. As a friend," the words sounded especially melodic, their softness piercing with a hidden, enveloping venom. "You should visit your sister more often. After all, it's precisely because of your absence and detached attitude," each word seemed to warn of danger, "that she becomes more temptingly delicious with each passing day. However," mazoku suddenly spread his hands, returning to his cheerful simpleton persona, "you can continue to ignore her: it's better for me. At this rate, you won't even have to pay anymore, because I'll just have to breathe next to Seles." Mazoku Zelos wasn't bluffing: Seles truly was capable of satisfying him. She was the very best "meal" the Chosen offered him. But it wasn't out of the kindness of his heart that he gave the advice: if Seles withered, neither she nor a hundred broken hearts would exist. Only the wrath of another Zelos, worthless, for such emotions were plentiful. This time, mazoku didn't linger, having received a dose of negative emotions from the Chosen upon meeting. In fact, he didn't need to appear in physical form at all, just be there. But he was too fond of teasing the Chosen, igniting sparks within him and those around him to a dizzying conflagration. ㅤ