HER DEAL WITH THE DEVIL

A tall, handsome figure stood before a desperate man, who begged for mercy and his unique irises appeared to shift and change color like a chameleon's skin. His silky hair cascaded down his back like a river of night, and his skin was as pale as freshly fallen snow.

The man's pleas fell on deaf ears, for this was no ordinary being. He was a devil, a collector of souls, and a healer of the sick. But his gifts came at a terrible cost: for every life he saved, another must be taken in exchange.

The man had learned this the hard way. His wife lay inside, healed of her sickness but at a price. The devil's terms were clear: the man's own life was the payment.

"What's the use of healing my wife if you're just going to take my life?" the man begged, clinging to the devil's leg. "If she wakes up and I'm not there, won't she be devastated? Won't she kill herself in grief?"

The devil's expression remained impassive, his eyes glinting with a malevolent light. "I don't care," he said, his voice low and husky. "You asked for my help, and I gave it to you. Now, your life is mine."

The man's eyes filled with tears as he pleaded for one final boon. "Let me see her, just once. Let me say goodbye. Please, I beg of you."

The devil regarded him for a moment, then nodded curtly. "Your wish is granted," he said. "But be quick. She will awaken soon."

The man scrambled to his feet, his eyes wild with gratitude. He rushed inside, leaving the devil to watch him with an unreadable expression.

The man rushed to his wife's side, overjoyed to see her awake and alert. "Honey, you're awake!" he exclaimed, tears of happiness streaming down his face.

His wife looked around, confused, and asked, "What happened? How long was I asleep?"

The man couldn't help but cry, his emotions overwhelming him. He knew he didn't have much time left, and the thought of leaving his beloved wife behind was too much to bear.

"Why are you crying?" his wife asked, concern etched on her face. "Aren't you happy I'm awake?"

The man shook his head, trying to compose himself. "No, it's not that. These are tears of joy," he lied, trying to spare her the truth.

Just then, the devil appeared in the doorway, his majestic presence commanding attention. The air seemed to vibrate with his power, and the ground itself seemed to tremble beneath his feet.

The man turned to the devil, desperation in his eyes. "Can't you just take me and my wife together?" he pleaded.

The devil shook his head, his expression unyielding. "It's not possible," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "I have given her life, and now I must take yours."

The wife's eyes widened in horror as she realized what was happening. "Honey, who is this man? What is he talking about?" she asked, her voice trembling.

The man tried to explain, but the words caught in his throat. He couldn't bear to tell her the truth – that he had made a deal with the devil to save her life, and now he must pay the price.

The devil sat down in a nearby chair, his eyes glinting with a malevolent light. "I am the devil," he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "And I always collect my due."

The wife fell to her knees, begging the devil to spare her husband's life. But the devil was unmoved, his heart seemingly made of stone.

With a wave of his hand, the devil touched the man's head, and he began to fade away. The wife screamed, her voice echoing through the room as she begged the devil to stop.

The man's last words were a promise to his wife – "I'll always love you, don't forget that" – before he vanished into thin air.

The wife collapsed, overcome with grief, but the devil didn't even flinch. He dusted his hands together, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

"Mission accomplished," he said, before turning and walking away, leaving the devastated wife behind.

**********************

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, Elena strolled into the mansion, her heart heavy with grief. Despite her efforts to transfer her mother to another hospital, the weight of her father's indifference threatened to crush her.

She entered the opulent sitting room, where her father lounged with a newspaper and a glass of wine. His legs were crossed, exuding an air of nonchalance that infuriated Elena.

"Where are you coming from, young lady?" her father asked, his voice dripping with disinterest.

Elena hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. "I was at the hospital," she replied, her voice measured.

Her father raised an eyebrow. "Doing what, exactly?"

Elena's anger simmered just below the surface. "Dad, why are you doing this to me? You know Mom is sick, and you haven't even bothered to visit her."

Her father's expression remained impassive. "Do I look like I care? That woman is suffering, and it's best to just let her go."

Elena's eyes flashed with anger. "Never, Father. Never."

Her father's smile was cold and calculating. "We'll see about that."

As Elena turned to leave, her father dropped a bombshell. "I've set up a blind date for you, and you'll attend, no matter what. You're not getting any younger, and you need a husband by your side."

Elena's eyes widened in horror. "Father, is this all you can think about? Mom is dying, and you're worried about me getting married?"

Her father ignored her, returning to his newspaper. Elena's frustration boiled over, and she demanded, "Father, can you just answer me?"

Her father finally looked up, his eyes glinting with amusement. "I don't care what you're saying, Elena. But you will attend that blind date tomorrow, or I'll take away your position as CEO."

Elena's world reeled as her father walked away, leaving her feeling devastated and trapped. She remembered the saying, "The rich also cry," and realized that wealth and power couldn't guarantee happiness.

With a heavy heart, Elena trudged to her room, feeling suffocated by the weight of her family's secrets and lies. She longed to escape, to break free from the gilded cage that trapped her. But for now, she was stuck, forced to play the role of the dutiful daughter.

************************

Zamiel, the devil, stood atop a towering skyscraper, the wind whipping his dark hair into a frenzy as he gazed out over the city. For a moment, he seemed lost in thought, his eyes burning with an inner fire. Then, in an instant, he vanished into thin air.

He reappeared in a hospital room, the scent of antiseptic and despair hanging heavy in the air. A woman sat beside a hospital bed, her body racked with sobs as she clutched the hand of a small, pale child. The child's eyes were sunken, their tiny chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

The woman's eyes were red-rimmed and desperate as she turned to leave, but then she saw him – a tall, imposing figure with eyes that burned like embers. She froze, her heart skipping a beat as she took in Zamiel's dark, majestic presence.

For a moment, the two simply stared at each other, the only sound the soft beeping of the hospital machines. Then the woman spoke up.

"Who are you..?" she asked,her eyes red from crying.

Zamiel's gaze flicked to the child, and for an instant, his eyes seemed to burn with an inner fire. Then, he turned back to the woman, his expression unreadable.

"I can help you," he said, his voice low and husky. "But be warned, my help comes at a steep price. Are you willing to pay it?"