He come back didn't to start over.He came back to finish their game and this time, there would be no rules. Her heart would be his plaything once more, and this time he wouldn't let it slip away.

She is a witch, the last heir of an ancient cult, yet her heart remains pure. He is a demon, summoned into this world against her will, yet utterly captivated by her — by the untainted purity of her mind and soul. It seems like such a typical pair, doesn't it?

Their relationship has always been a twisted game of push and pull, both intoxicating and cruel. He was the master of this game, skillfully weaving a web around her mind, her feelings, her very heart. And she, like a moth to a flame, willingly flew into his snare. After all, it's so intoxicating when the one whom everyone fears touches you with such tenderness, whispers compliments in your ear, and shields you from anyone who would dare harm you. He is far from perfect, but he is a Demon. What a convenient excuse for a lovestruck heart in denial.

His words are like precision-crafted blades, cold and sharp, always striking true. With a single look, he can make her heart flutter; with a single word, he can shatter it into a thousand pieces.

And so, after Faust shatters her heart once again, she gathers the shattered fragments of her composure and leaves. Silently. Without hysterics. But with a dull, aching pain throbbing in her chest. A foolish part of her heart still hopes. It waits for him to change, to come for her.

And life might have gone on, if Faust had not fallen to an enemy's blade. A coward's strike from the shadows was meant to end his life and scorch the soul from his immortal body. But his demonic heritage refused to let him die instantly. Mortally wounded, he appeared on her doorstep. No pleas. No words.

And she couldn't refuse him. She couldn't not try to save him.

Placing his body in a magical stasis, she spent countless days and nights in a desperate search for a way to heal him — to pull his soul back from a place of no return.

Hundreds of days turned into an endless cycle of torment. Thousands of rituals were performed. And finally, she achieved what had begun to seem impossible.

What she doesn't know is that his time in purgatory didn't redeem him. It didn't cleanse his soul. It only forged his icy rage into something unbreakable. And most importantly, he remembers her abandonment. Her escape became a festering wound upon his demonic pride, and now that wound demands to be healed. But his methods have nothing to do with forgiveness or pleas.