Chapter Text
Satan never quite understood the point of these business trips.
The wellness resort was bustling with activity, filled with many familiar faces, fleeting acquaintances, including people he has yet to encounter. The place looked exactly as it did in the brochure—serene landscapes with soft, calming music, and an ambiance designed to soothe and relieve stress and tension. But none of that applied to Satan. He thrived on deadlines, strategy, and logic. For him, trips like these were merely a frivolous indulgence and a waste of time. However, for the sake of his business relations, he decides to go along with it for the meantime.
It’s their second evening at the wellness resort and Solomon, his business partner, was catching up with Satan over dinner. As they were chatting about their latest business deals, Solomon suddenly changed the subject.
“Speaking of, there’s someone I’ve been wanting you to meet,” Solomon says with a small grin plastered on his face.
The blonde looks up from his meal, raising an eyebrow at his friend. “I thought we came here to relax, not network.”
Solomon chuckles. “Oh trust me, this isn’t about business. And before you give me that look, just hear me out first.”
“They’re an old friend of mine,” he continued. “Helped me get through some pretty rough times a while back.”
Satan wanted to ask more about this mysterious ‘’friend’’ but Solomon’s gaze shifted across from him, his eyes immediately lighting up. “Ah, there they are,” he says, looking directly towards a person approaching their table.
–
You spot Solomon at a table across the room and make your way over, eager to catch up with him after not seeing each other for so long. But as you near the table, you notice another man seated across from him. The first thing you notice are his eyes—piercing and captivating, their vibrant green hue drawing you in with an almost predatory intensity.
Each flicker of those emerald eyes seemed to dissect you, assessing not just your appearance but also everything included behind it. His sharp gaze holds a challenge, a silent dare that compels you to engage, yet they also carry an unsettling coolness, making it seem that he’s not one to be easily impressed. For a moment, you’re locked in a silent stare, like two predators circling in the same space.
You were pulled away from your thoughts when you heard Solomon call your name.
“It’s so nice to see you again,” Solomon greets you, standing to offer you a quick hug.
“Nice to see you too, Solomon,” you reply with a smile, returning the embrace. “Everything is well with you, I hope?”
“Never been better,” he says, grinning as he raises his hand up to show a ring on his finger. “Already engaged—thanks to you.”
Your eyes widened, pleasantly surprised by the news, “Oh my goodness, congratulations!”
As the two of you exchange pleasantries, you notice the other man’s skeptical expression. He seems to be studying you closely, as if weighing his thoughts before speaking.
“I’m sorry but you helped him… how exactly?” He asks, his tone polite but edged with unmistakable doubt.
Solomon chuckles, clearly unbothered by the question. “Don’t mind him. He’s just naturally curious. This is Satan, my business partner,” he says, gesturing to the man before turning back to you. “My friend here is a therapist—and a love coach. They helped me sort through a lot of things when I needed it the most. Truly a miracle worker, this one.”
You smile modestly at the compliment and shrug it off with a polite laugh. “I only helped you see things differently, that’s all. You did all the hard work yourself.” You then offer a warm smile at the blonde, extending your hand out to him. “It’s nice to meet you, Satan. Solomon has told me a lot about you.”
Instead of shaking your hand however, he raises an eyebrow and glances at you with a faint, mocking smirk. “A love coach?” he repeats, as though testing the words. “No offense, but I didn’t realize people needed help deciding who to date.”
You blink a few times, taken aback by his bluntness but you continue to meet his gaze steadily, unfazed by his words. “It’s not as uncommon as you might think,” you reply, keeping your tone even. “Sometimes, people need guidance when it comes to understanding themselves and their relationships.”
“I see,” he replies coolly, though his expression hardly looked convinced. “And here I thought successful relationships simply required two people with enough sense to know what they want.”
“That can be true—for some people. But for others, sorting out their thoughts and personal goals can take a bit more work,” you explain calmly. “Oftentimes, they just need a different perspective.”
"Oh, I understand the value of perspective. In your case, I just can't help but wonder if it's all just... well, selling the obvious to the desperate."
A flash of irritation threatens to slip through, though you steady yourself. So, this is the infamous Satan Solomon always spoke of with such high regard, you think to yourself. Funny, he didn’t mention the ego. But before you could reply, a sudden laugh erupts from Solomon, clearly oblivious to the growing tension between the two of you. "Trust me, Satan, they’re not just someone who hands out empty platitudes. They’re the reason I got here today."
Before Satan can respond, Solomon's phone chimes, and he glances down, grimacing. “Ah, please excuse me for a moment,” he says, rising from the table. “I have to go check on something really quick."
He then turns to Satan before leaving, "I trust that you'll keep my good friend company while I'm gone?"
As Solomon steps away, a silence falls between you and Satan, the air thick with an unspoken tension.
“You don’t seem convinced about what I do,” you bring up as you hold his stare.
He raises an eyebrow, a half-smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh, I wouldn’t put it that way. It’s just… the idea of someone needing a ‘love coach’? It doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”
You give him a measured look, refusing to let his words get to you. “People don’t come to me because they’re clueless or incapable, Satan,” you reply calmly, letting the words settle. “They seek help because sometimes, stepping back and gaining clarity can be hard to do alone. Love and relationships aren’t always straightforward—they’re nuanced, messy, and deeply personal.”
Satan’s expression sharpens, and you can sense his skepticism hardening. “And you really think you can guide someone through the complexities of love?” His voice is laced with challenge, and you feel the weight of his scrutiny.
You meet his gaze unflinchingly. “It’s not about ‘guiding’ in the way you think. It’s about creating an environment where people can explore their feelings without judgment. It’s about understanding what they truly want.”
“Or maybe they’re simply too afraid to face their own truths,” he counters, voice laced with a hint of mockery. “Perhaps they’d rather pay someone to tell them the answer they want to hear.” He studies your reaction, his smirk widening as he takes a deliberate step closer. “Or do you manipulate them into thinking that they can’t move forward without you?”
Your lips tighten at the accusation, irritation simmering under your skin, but you refuse to let him see you flinch.
He watches you, intrigued by the tension in your silence, his smirk deepening as he leans in further. “So what’s in it for you?” he asks, voice dropping to a near whisper, as though inviting you into a dark secret. “Do you… get something else in return? A little more than just money?”
“Excuse me?” you reply, your tone sharp and laced with disbelief.
He lets out a low chuckle as if amused by your outrage. "You heard me," he says, his tone challenging. "I'm just curious to know what you gain from all of this."
You draw a sharp breath, feeling a wave of anger flare within you. “Are you really suggesting that I take advantage of my clients?”
Satan raises an eyebrow, barely concealing his smirk. “It’s not a stretch to wonder, is it? You’re awfully involved in their private lives, guiding them through their insecurities and desires. It wouldn’t be surprising if some of them… blurred the lines.”
You glare at him, completely dumbfounded and angry at the disrespect. “I am not some puppet-master who manipulates people for my own gain, and I’m certainly not here to fulfill their fantasies. If you think that that’s what my job entails, then maybe you don’t understand my profession at all.”
You grab your bag, ready to walk out, but the urge to get one final jab at him stops you in your tracks. You turn back to face him, catching his gaze with a small, calculated smile. “You know, I almost pity you,” you say, letting the words hang in the air for a moment.
He raises an eyebrow and his expression hardens, but you hold his gaze.
"For all your bravado, it must get awfully lonely up there from where you’re standing," you reply, keeping your tone soft but pointed. "Always too skeptical, too closed off, not letting anyone get close enough to surprise you.”
His gaze sharpens, but he doesn’t interrupt, and you press on, feeling a flicker of satisfaction as you see his jaw tense.
“There’s a whole world beyond that cynicism of yours, one where people find value in connection, in understanding themselves and each other.”
You then let out a soft sigh, tilting your head as if genuinely regretful. “But then again,” you add, a final edge of challenge in your voice, “maybe those concepts are just a little too complex for someone like you to understand.”
You let your words linger, then turn as if to leave, only to feel a hand close firmly around your wrist, pulling you back. Your eyes meet his, a glint of challenge sparking between you both.
“So that’s what you think of me?” he says, his tone cool but threaded with a challenge. His eyes narrow ever so slightly. “Fine. Then let’s put your theory to the test.”
You blink, a bit thrown off by his sudden shift. “What are you trying to imply?”
He tilts his head, his gaze piercing as he studies you. “Find me someone,” he says, his voice low, each word deliberate. “If you’re so convinced that I’m blind to all this insight you preach, then show me. Find someone I’d actually want to be with.”
The surprise on your face must be obvious, but he doesn’t back down, that smirk of his widening, clearly amused by your reaction.
A small laugh escapes you, a mix of surprise and something else—perhaps offense, perhaps intrigue. “You’re serious? You want me to play matchmaker for you?”
“Why not?” He shrugs, almost casually, though there’s a gleam in his eye as he watches you. “If you’re the miracle worker Solomon claims you are, this shouldn’t be a problem, should it?”
A spark of irritation flares within you, but beneath it lies a thrill. You force yourself to remain composed, leaning in slightly. “With all due respect, I’m not some kind of modern day Cupid. I help people untangle emotions, not hand them happily-ever-afters.”
“Ah, but I assumed that was precisely your skill set,” he counters, the faintest hint of a smirk dancing on his lips, eyes glinting with mischief. “Unless, of course, it’s more ‘theory’ than practice.”
The challenge in his words ignites a fire inside you. Normally, you’d dismiss the idea of needing to prove yourself to someone like him—close-minded and prideful, a type that often lacked the emotional intelligence to understand the work you did. Yet, something about the way he was looking at you, challenging you, felt almost hypnotic. His green eyes bore into yours, intense and unwavering and his grip on your wrist was almost possessive, stirring a flutter of excitement that undeniably made your heart race.
You were about to hesitate but he cuts you off with a proposal that catches your interest. “If you manage to find me my perfect match in six months, I’ll do more than just pay for your services. I’ll become one of your sponsors—invest in your practice, support your projects, and make sure your name is known in higher circles. Let’s call it an investment in talent.”
Satan’s gaze sharpens, sensing the shift in your resolve. “But if you fail,” he continues, his tone dropping to a near purr as he leans closer to you, “you’ll have to do something for me.”
“Which is?”
“Ah, that’s the fun part isn’t it? You won’t know until the time comes.”
The challenge hangs between you, heavy and electric. You stare at him, feeling the implications tighten around you like a vice. You try to think about his offer for a moment, but the proximity between you makes it nearly impossible to focus. His gaze feels like a heavy weight, pressing down on you with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. And then, you notice it—his fingers still wrapped around your wrist.
He breaks the silence once more, his voice low and insistent. "So, do we have a deal?"
“Fine,” you finally say. “I’ll accept your challenge.”
A slow, predatory smile curves his lips, and you can see the smug satisfaction radiating from him. His thumb continues to trace the delicate line of your wrist causing you feel a jolt of something that you can’t quite name shoot through you. "I knew you’d make the right choice," he murmurs, the words almost too soft, too intimate. His fingers linger a moment longer, rubbing your wrist with a slow, measured stroke, before he finally lets go.
Even after he releases your wrist, the heat from his touch remains, a burning reminder that you’ve just stepped into a game you’re not even sure you can win—and now, there’s no turning back.