The Demon's Gambit (Alastor x OC)

The Siren's Song

The dimly lit streets of Cannibal Town thrummed with life, shadows flickering against the grimy walls as laughter and shouts echoed in the night. Vira stood hesitantly at the threshold of Rosie's store, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. She had been invited—no, demanded—to perform, and the thought sent a mix of excitement and dread swirling in her stomach.

"Come on, darling! It'll be fun!" Rosie's voice was bright and infectious, her eyes dancing with mischief as she clasped her hands together in delight. "Just a little singing. You've got the voice of a siren, and everyone in Cannibal Town could use a bit of magic tonight."

Rolling her eyes at Rosie's exuberance, Vira had initially resisted the idea. But the truth was, she loved to sing. It was a passion that burned within her, though the thought of performing in front of a crowd made her skin prickle with anxiety. After much internal debate, she had reluctantly agreed.

Now, standing at the entrance, she felt the weight of expectation pressing down on her.

With a deep breath, she stepped inside, the atmosphere enveloping her like a thick fog. The bar was a riot of colors, eerie lights casting a surreal glow on the crowd. Laughter, clinking glasses, and snippets of conversation swirled around her, creating a vibrant tapestry of sound. The stage loomed ahead, bathed in a warm spotlight, its wooden surface scratched and worn, telling stories of countless performers who had graced it before.

As she approached the stage, her nerves tightened. Memories resurfaced she long tried to hide. The crowd fell into hushed anticipation, eyes turning toward her as she took the microphone in hand. The moment she began to sing, her voice wove through the air like silk—powerful yet haunting—effortlessly capturing the audience's attention. Each note resonated deeply, weaving a spell of pure emotion that rippled through the room.

Unbeknownst to her, Alastor lingered in the shadows, a silent specter concealed behind a cloak of darkness. He had entered Rosie's establishment seeking nothing more than an ordinary evening, a brief respite from his usual schemes. But the instant Vira's voice cut through the cacophony, a wave of fury surged within him.

How dare she invade his thoughts days prior, probing into the depths of his mind where he had buried his secrets? The audacity of her curiosity ignited a fire in him, an indignation that simmered beneath his cool exterior.

The spark of rage ignited his features as he watched her on stage, captivated yet furious. His brows furrowed, the intensity of his emotions swirling like a storm within him. He refused to step into the light, retreating deeper into the shadows, avoiding any direct interaction. He had become a figure of darkness, feeding on his own ire, his usual cunning dulled by this unexpected provocation.

Rosie, leaning casually against the counter with a cup of tea in hand, noticed the tension radiating from Alastor like an electric charge. His usually composed demeanor was now tinged with something darker, something she had rarely witnessed. She raised an eyebrow, concern threading its way into her teasing tone.

"Oh, what's wrong, Alastor? You look like you've just bitten into a sour lemon!" Rosie's teasing voice broke through the tension, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

Alastor turned toward her, but there was no playfulness in his expression. The flickering lights of the dimly lit room cast sharp shadows across his face, highlighting the growing storm in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was low and edged, barely more than a whisper, as though he feared their conversation could be overheard by unseen ears.

"I need to know," he began, the words drawn out with slow deliberation, his usual light-hearted tone replaced by something darker, something urgent. The air between them thickened, filled with the weight of unspoken thoughts. "Tell me, Rosie, has our dear Vira... happened to let slip anything curious about me lately?"

Rosie's eyes widened, caught off guard by the unexpected seriousness. For a moment, her playful facade faltered, her smirk vanishing as she studied his expression.

"No, not that I know of," she said slowly, her head tilting slightly as if she could already sense there was more behind his question. "Why? Did you think she would?"

Alastor's gaze flicked away, scanning the room with quick, sharp glances, as if expecting Vira to suddenly appear from the shadows, her knowing smile betraying secrets he wasn't ready to have uncovered. His thoughts churned, mixing with a flicker of anger that danced just beneath the surface, barely held in check.

"I find it rather unusual," he mused, his voice dripping with careful calculation, each word delivered with deliberate precision. "She's far too composed for someone who's seen what she has. Most are eager to dig into my affairs, to claw for any scrap of leverage they can find. But her? She remains silent. It leaves me wondering..." His eyes narrowed, the edges of a wicked smile tugging at his lips. "What exactly is she playing at?"

Rosie crossed her arms, her own curiosity piqued as she watched him intently. "You know Vira's different. She doesn't suck up to you or cower in fear like the others. That's probably why you find her so fascinating ~"

"Fascinating?" Alastor let out a sharp, sardonic cackle. "I'd sooner call it reckless." His smile widened, though it held no warmth. "She dared to meddle in my thoughts—without so much as a whisper of permission. Now that, my dear, is a dangerous game to play ~"

"Maybe," Rosie replied, a sly smile creeping onto her lips again, "but she hasn't betrayed you. Not yet, at least. Maybe you're reading too much into it."

Alastor's gaze flickered with something unreadable, a sudden chill settling over him. Vira hadn't betrayed him. It was rare—an anomaly, even—in a world where everyone was clawing for power and leverage. The idea struck him with an unsettling force, one that gnawed at the edges of his usual confidence. Vira hadn't turned against him.

His brows knitted together as disbelief mingled with confusion. It didn't sit right. In his experience, trust was a currency too easily spent. And yet, she had remained quiet, holding his secrets with an unnerving grace. It sent shockwaves through his carefully constructed barriers, stirring something deep within him.

"So she's kept my secrets," he murmured, more to himself than to Rosie, the thought sinking in with surprising weight. He didn't expect it to affect him the way it did, but there it was—a spark of fascination ignited within him, unsettling in its intensity. The anger he had felt earlier began to dissipate, replaced by a growing curiosity, something he couldn't quite define.

"Why doesn't she scramble for advantage like the rest of them? What makes her so... different?" he wondered aloud, his voice lower now, as if the answer eluded him.

Rosie shrugged, but there was a knowing glint in her eyes. "Oh, Alastor! Maybe she sees you for who you really are, not just the Radio demon. Maybe she finds your company delightful enough!"

Her words lingered in the air, and for the first time, Alastor allowed himself to consider them seriously. There was something about Vira—something more than just defiance, something deeper. It tugged at the corners of his mind, drawing him into thoughts he hadn't anticipated. The mystery of her character unfurled before him, a puzzle he was suddenly eager to solve.

And as that curiosity blossomed, so too did a fascination—one that both intrigued and unsettled him. As he continued to watch her perform, his anger began to dissolve. The way she held the audience captive, her passion radiating from her, drew him in further. Vira was unlike anyone he had encountered before, and it left him both bewildered and curious.