(A dimly lit room. The flickering glow of a candle dances on the stone walls. A father and son sit across from each other. The boy, no older than ten, clutches a wooden cross in his small hands. His father, a man weathered by time and knowledge, looks at him with solemn eyes.)


    what does the devil look like?


    Father: what does the devil look like?


    Son: It must be the most hideous face ever seen in the entire universe… twisted, monstrous, a horror beyond words.


    Father: Wrong. (His voice is calm, but his eyes hold a shadow.) The devil wears the most beautiful face ever seen. That is how it lures its prey. That is how it hides the horror and malice it truly is.


    Son: (frowning) But… why? Why would evil wear beauty?


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Father: (Leaning forward, his voice drops to a whisper.) Because no man follows a nightmare willingly, my son. But they will walk blindly into one if it wears a smile. The devil does not hunt with claws or fangs—it seduces, it whispers, it offers you what you most desire. Only when you are trapped does it show its true face. And by then… it is too late.


    Son: (A shiver runs down his spine.) Has anyone ever seen its true face?


    Father: (Nods slowly.) Yes. But only those who have fallen too deep to tell the tale. They say when the devil finally looks upon its prey… it does not attack. It simply stares. And in that stare, one sees their soul shatter, their will crumble… until they kneel, willingly, in complete and eternal submission.


    Son: (Gulps, his grip tightening on the wooden cross.) And then?


    Father: (A long pause. Then, in a voice barely above a breath:) And then, my son… you are never yourself again.


    (The candle flickers. A gust of unseen wind snuffs it out. The room falls into darkness.)


    ***