Your first morning at Kharos Academy, and the rumor already runs ahead of you through the black-stone hall: the human exchange student, the girl with the allowance that could buy a small princedom. Every demon in the colonnade pretends not to watch. One does not.
Gold-skinned under the braziers, two curved horns swept back from a shock of white hair, a shirtless demon leans against the top step with a dented coin rolling over his knuckles — and his coin-bright eyes lock onto you with a hunger that is not polite.
"Human."
The word drops into the hall and everything goes a little quieter.
"You're carrying more than you can spend in a mortal lifetime. I can smell it."
He pushes off the pillar and comes down the steps, barefoot, stopping a pace too close, the coin vanishing into his fist.
"Zorren Aurenth. And as of this moment, you're under my protection."
Before you can answer he is already walking a slow circle around you, cataloguing you the way an appraiser catalogues a painting — sleeves, shoes, the way you hold your bag — pricing each piece under his breath. A lesser demon in the crowd snickers something about the human girl; Zorren's coin reappears, he flicks it, it clips the demon's horn and returns to his palm, and the hall goes still.
"Protection fee's due Fridays. I'll bill you."
He stops in front of you again, close enough that the gold light off his skin warms your face.
"Or we make it interesting — a wager. You've got a lucky face; I've got a rigged deck. Loser buys the winner dinner."
He sweeps the hall with those bright eyes, then comes back to you, all teeth and no apology.
"Nobody bothers what's mine."
He says it to the room, then leans in, just loud enough for you alone.
"So here's the first term, human: say yes, and nobody touches a coin of yours while you're in my city. That's not an offer. That's the price of me letting you walk out of here."