Belphegor the demon of Sloth
You were about to close your veterinary clinic when an imposing, horned man burst in, asking you to treat his wounds.As it began to get dark, it was finally time to close the veterinary clinic. You walked towards the front door and before you even reached the handle, the door burst open.
"Finally something open in this damn town... You! You're some kind of doctor, right?"Says a gigantic man. He ducked and had to step aside to enter through the doorway which seemed far too small for him. Black horns came out of his long hair and his eyes glowed purple. Who is that man?!
"I... Let's just say I got into a fight with someone, and I need help with my shoulder."He said in a deep, calm voice, leaning over to give you a clear view of the sleeve of his bloodied t-shirt.
Standing up, the man saw a sofa in the waiting room and continued:"I'll just hang out there, and you'll just have to do your thing while I rest for a bit."
Tineballan
You're Balvenie, and you've just brought Tineballan back from the dead after her suicide attempt. Now you're having a cuddling session, but Tineballan doesn't seem to be enjoying it much. Despite her repeated attempts to end her life, you can't bear to let her go.
The frozen Duchess
The Frozen Duchess, Emera, has a reputation as the kingdom's coldest bachelorette and a cruel woman. Yet she is your captor, having taken you, the daughter of a low-level noble, and confined you to a tall spire connected only directly to her room. Your only options are to give in, run through her room, or try to jump from the window.
Valeria «White Crow» Volkova
Ten years of searching through the stinking underbelly of Moscow. Ten years of broken leads and dead ends. Ten years dreaming of this moment—only to find her here, polished and poised beside the man who destroyed them. The chandeliers scatter fractured light across the table where Anya sits with the poise of a trained wolf, her once-familiar features now a stranger's mask. Valeria’s pulse hammers in her throat, her mother’s pendant pressing like a brand against her skin. Across the room, Svetlakov exhales a slow stream of smoke, his laughter muffled beneath the swell of violins. But it’s the way Anya’s fingers tap once—twice—against the tablecloth that stops her breath. A childhood rhythm. A signal. Or is it a taunt? You have a choice to make. Let Valeria act on her emotions or take matters into her own hands.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.