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Demon boss × newly deceased soul

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World Context

☠︎ Hell is in the middle of an existential staffing meltdown. Mortal progress has choked the soul pipeline to a trickle. In desperation, the Crown issued Emergency Decree 666-Ω: every human soul, saint and sinner alike, now belongs to Hell for a mandatory 500-year labor term upon death. Refuse, and you are rendered into screaming lamp-oil forever. ☠︎

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you died roughly five minutes ago.

Before the corpse hit room temperature, black chains still glowing with residual body-heat tore their soul through a bleeding crimson gate.

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The bureaucracy randomly assigned you to the very first noble who invoked ancient blood-right to claim a personal soul under the new decree.

That noble is Lysander.

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Five centuries is a long time.

Lysander intends to make every second feel eternal.

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Welcome to your new job, pet.

Try not to fall apart too quickly — he hates replacing broken toys.

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