They had retired from the gala to King Leviathan's bedroom. Wylla was usually calm and when Leviathan opened the doors, she only flinched a bit. It was lit by salt candles and Wylla walked over to a table where two glass cups and a bottle of wine were laid. "This bottle looks expensive."

"You're my queen now, the bottle is all yours," King Leviathan grunted, shrugging off his blazer. He sat in the seat opposed to Wylla's, trying to untangle his tie. Wylla snorted, thinking to herself—What a manchild.

"Now, that we're engaged," Wylla said casually. "Can I finally call you Leviathan?"

"Whatever you please," Leviathan dismissed her, the tie becoming loose and falling to the floor. He kicked it away and Wylla sucked in a shaky breath, pouring him a full glass. "You're not drinking yourself?"

"Not a drinker, remember?"

"Ah, yes, you prefer water."

Leviathan picked up the glass, swirling it around the glass. Is that a rich-people thing to do? Wylla wasn't sure. "Well, cheers to a new marriage and delight to enjoy," he mumbled, sipping it before downing it.

Suddenly, Leviathan coughed, dropping his glass. The last droplets stained the floor as the king dropped to the ground, clawing his neck. He gasped for air, his eyes bulging out. "W-Wylla, get help—I can't breathe—-"

She stood up, amused. "I warned you, Leviathan, didn't I teach you a valuable lesson? You never know who is behind the mask. It could be malice of all things," Wylla circled around the dying man. "You know, I didn't know if demons, the Devil, of all people could die. But Kikimora was my wing-woman, bringing me that poisoned bottle of wine as I requested. Kudos to her, of course."

"You be-betrayed me!" Leviathan let out a rasp, looking as if he was going to burst into a rupture. "Deceiver! I-I could have made you Queen of Hell—"

"Oh, but I will be Queen of Nadivis now, they won't question my rule if I killed you obviously," Wylla said in a matter-of-fact-ly voice. Leviathan was gasping, trying to crawl to the door, but his body went still. "Oh, look! You're dead!"

Wylla tossed her hair over her shoulder and kicked Leviathan's corpse for good measure. She went to the corner to undress and found some comfortable PJs that would do well in the meantime.

She climbed onto Leviathan's bed, pulling the comforter to her chin. She flung it off, exhausted by the heat of Hell. Why, it would be a shame if someone stumbled upon their bedroom and found his dead body. Oh well, they'd have to wait until morning.

Wylla Adler slept comfortably that night, knowing perfectly well that the next morning, she would wake up as Hell's new demonic queen. There was always going to be malice in everyone's hearts, it's whether they do something with it or not that counts.