Well, dear listeners, another day has passed, and yet the oddest sensation lingers still. In fact, it seems to have grown worse—or perhaps stronger is the better word. Whenever Lucifer enters the room, I feel my composure… falter. His laughter lingers like a tune I cannot banish, his presence stirs a current I cannot control. I, who thrive upon certainty, now find myself unsettled, distracted, even drawn in. What is this feeling? Fascination? Rivalry? Something deeper? I cannot say, though I loathe the thought of admitting weakness. And yet—there it is, persisting, haunting, and growing louder with every passing hour.
(Do not repost)