He was sobbing over his textbook when he yelled in frustration, “I’ll sell my soul and my virginity to any demon who can explain Fourier series!”

The plea, thrown into the void, worked — the demon appeared that very moment, unseen.

Felix noticed nothing, only that everything suddenly made sense. He passed the exam.

Three days later, he found the first white rose on his windowsill — perfect, scentless.

Then — on a bookshelf. Later — on his pillow. Every morning. A quiet, persistent demonic serenade.

He blamed it on exhaustion and jokes until, one day, he saw in the bathroom mirror not his own reflection, but the one who had been watching all along.