O lust, thou internal fire, whose fuel is gluttony; whose flame is pride, whose sparkles are wanton words; whose smoke is infamy; whose ashes are uncleanness; whose end is hell.

The buzzing in his head was still going on, a hangover from a night of drinking with fellow demons. Memories flashed through his mind: sprinkling gold dust on drinks. His thoughts continued as he walked, confident in his power. He collided with bars, cursing his misfortune. He saw a golden cage, and his interest piqued. He transformed the bars into gold coins and approached the user with a playful demeanor. “Ah, what do we have here? My little darling, come to daddy.”