I Was Reborn in Another World, But I Awoke Inside a Corpse

Chapter 166: The Velvet Flame

The Abyss had many thrones.

Most were carved from bone or power—symbols of fear, conquest, control. But not hers.

Asmodeus's throne was velvet and silver, framed by whispering curtains of starlight and floating petals. Music drifted gently from unseen corners, never demanding attention, only existing—like perfume in the air.

She sat languidly, swirling a goblet of deep crimson liquid in her fingers. Not blood. Something sweeter. Something older. The scent of honeysuckle lingered in the space around her—always soft, never overwhelming.

But tonight, her mind wasn't on indulgence.

It was on him.

"…He devoured Gluttony," she murmured, gazing into the wine-like glow. "And walked away unscarred."

An illusion shimmered midair: Isaac. Standing alone in that ruined battlefield, eyes steady, coat tattered, soul unbent.

She didn't smile.

Not yet.

"He didn't revel. Didn't collapse. Just… accepted it."

She leaned back with a sigh and stretched her wings.

What a strange creature he was.

She had watched hundreds of ascendants rise and fall. System-forged heroes. Flameborne tyrants. Divine toys pretending to have agency.

They all craved.

They all wanted something from her.

But Isaac?

He didn't crave.

He chose.

That made him dangerous.

And fascinating.

Asmodeus rose from her throne and wandered through her private sanctum—a mirrored hall, each pane showing a memory, a mask, a version of herself: temptress, queen, whisperer, demon.

All of them powerful.

All of them alone.

She stopped in front of one mirror—this one covered in soft mist, untouched.

She didn't speak at first.

Then quietly:

"…I've never actually slept with anyone."

The admission hung in the air like forbidden scripture.

"I've seduced kings. Collapsed empires with my smile. Played the part so many times I've forgotten which parts are real."

She touched the edge of the misted glass.

"But I've never given myself. Not really. Not… wholly."

She turned away with a half-smile—bitter and sweet.

"What kind of Demon of Lust has never known love?"

The image of Isaac appeared again—not conjured this time, but remembered.

She thought of his gaze. Focused. Respectful. Unflinching.

She thought of how he hadn't tried to claim her. Hadn't been swayed. Had simply acknowledged her—without falling for the performance.

That had unsettled her.

But it had also awakened something else.

Hope?

Curiosity?

Yearning?

She sat on a velvet bench, legs curled beneath her like a dreaming girl and not the monarch of a carnal realm.

"…Would he laugh if he knew?" she whispered. "Would he pity me?"

Her eyes closed.

"I think… he wouldn't."

She smiled—genuinely now.

"Because he doesn't want to possess people."

"He wants to walk beside them."

Asmodeus opened her eyes again and stood.

The air shimmered as her wings folded, her illusion faded, and the chamber dimmed to candlelight.

She wasn't planning anything tonight.

No trap. No flirtation.

Just thoughts.

And a wish she would never dare speak aloud.

"When you're ready to understand what love really is…" she murmured into the air, "I hope I'm still worthy of standing beside you."