A True Ruler Among Monsters

(Samuel's POV)

The moment I stepped into the banquet hall, I could feel it.

The air was different.

Unlike the business world, where people hid behind fake smiles and contracts, here—power ruled.

Every person in this room was someone.

Mafia bosses, crime lords, arms dealers—each carrying an aura of dominance.

I smirked, adjusting the cuffs of my black suit as I walked further in.

"As expected… this isn't like those pathetic business banquets."

"No useless pleasantries. No fragile egos pretending to be powerful."

"Here? Every single person represents real power."

And then—

The room shifted.

A wave of silence fell over the banquet as the anchor stepped onto the stage.

His voice echoed through the grand hall.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you have all been waiting for…"

"The Queen of the Mafia World—Roselle Vasilyev—has arrived!"

I lifted my gaze.

And there she was.

She stood at the top of the grand staircase, her crimson gown flowing elegantly, hugging her perfect figure.

Her long, silky black hair cascaded down her back, and her piercing amethyst eyes scanned the room with cold dominance.

She didn't need to speak.

She didn't need to announce her power.

Her presence alone was enough.

She was not a woman.

She was a ruler.

A Queen.

10,000 times more beautiful, more powerful, and more terrifying than that pathetic bitch, Bardot.

Her aura wasn't forced.

It wasn't fabricated through wealth.

It was real.

I exhaled slowly, my emerald eyes locking onto her.

For the first time in this life, I felt something strange.

Not admiration.

Not fear.

Not anger.

But recognition.

Because unlike every other woman I had encountered—

She was worthy of standing in the same world as me.

I smirked, sipping my drink.

"Well, well… looks like Moscow just got a lot more interesting."

A Meeting of Kings and Queens

(Samuel's POV – The Queen of Darkness Reveals Herself)

The moment our eyes met across the banquet hall, I knew.

She recognized me.

Roselle Vasilyev—The Lord of Darkness. The Queen of the Mafia World.

She didn't react with shock.

She didn't react with anger.

She just smirked.

Cold. Calculating. Dangerous.

And that was enough to tell me… this won't end well.

---

The Corridor of Shadows

After some time, I decided to step away from the crowd.

The banquet was filled with politics, alliances, and silent wars, but right now—I needed space.

As I walked through a dimly lit corridor, I suddenly felt it.

The air shifted.

A strange force pulsed through the atmosphere.

The walls creaked.

The chandeliers above me began to float.

Glasses and bottles lifted into the air, suspended in complete silence.

I stopped walking, not even bothering to turn around.

I already knew.

"Roselle."

A dark chuckle echoed from behind me.

I finally turned, my emerald eyes meeting hers once again.

She stood at the end of the hallway, her crimson gown flowing unnaturally, her amethyst eyes glowing faintly.

A dangerous smirk played on her lips.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

"I never expected the Queen of Darkness to reincarnate here."

I gestured to the floating objects around me. "And the worst part? You might want to kill me."

She took a slow step forward, the floating objects gently lowering back to the ground as she tilted her head.

"Oh, Samuel…" Her voice was smooth, seductive—but laced with hidden danger.

"Who said I might?"

I smirked, cracking my knuckles. "Tch. So, we're skipping the pleasantries, then?"

Roselle chuckled darkly. "Why waste time?"

The air around us grew heavier.

A silent declaration of war.

I sighed. "Guess this was inevitable."

She smirked. "Of course it was."

And just like that—

The game had begun.

(Roselle Vasilyev's POV – The Return of the Heavenly Demon)

I had been watching him for a while now.

Through the news, through whispers in the underworld.

Samuel Gebb.

Or rather—the man who was once Samuel Gebb.

Now?

He was the Heavenly Demon.

Reincarnated into a world that had no idea who or what he truly was.

And honestly?

It was a shame.

A disgrace that in his past life, he had wasted himself on that pathetic woman, Abigail Bardot.

I smirked, my amethyst eyes gleaming as I summoned a fireball into my palm.

With a flick of my wrist—

I hurled it straight at him.

He dodged effortlessly, his body moving with the same lethal grace he always had in our second life.

"Well, Samuel," I mused, watching him land smoothly a few feet away.

"I must say, you're just as agile as you were back then."

He smirked, his emerald eyes glowing with amusement. "Tch. And you're just as dramatic, Roselle."

I chuckled, rolling my shoulders. "You should know by now—I never hold back."

But this?

This wasn't just about a reunion of two old enemies.

No.

This was about justice.

I clenched my fists, my flames flickering violently.

"Do you know what infuriates me the most?" I asked, my voice low but sharp.

Samuel raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess—Bardot?"

My lips curled into a cold smirk.

"That woman is a disgrace. A dirt stain on the existence of women everywhere."

I let out a slow breath, controlling the rage burning inside me.

"Marriage is a vow. A promise of loyalty. Of devotion. Of honor."

I narrowed my eyes. "And what did she do? She spread her legs for other men while calling herself a wife."

Samuel exhaled, shaking his head. "Tch. You sound angrier about it than I am."

I smirked. "Because I have standards, Samuel. And what she did was unacceptable."

I stepped forward, my heels clicking against the marble floor.

"Women like her don't deserve power. They don't deserve status. They deserve ruin."

Samuel chuckled, tilting his head. "Well, Roselle… if you hate her so much, why don't you destroy her yourself?"

I smirked, raising my hand as flames flickered between my fingers.

"Oh, don't worry."

"I plan to."

The Forbidden Craving

Damn it.

Who the hell told him to look this sexy?

Dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, his emerald eyes gleaming with a sharpness that could cut through steel.

The way his long, dark hair cascaded over his shoulders…

The way his body was built like a warrior, muscles rippling under his tight dress shirt…

I want him.

Now.

The worst part?

Legally, Samuel Gebb was dead.

Which meant…

There was nothing stopping me.

I took a slow step forward, my heels clicking against the marble floor.

He watched me with that infuriating smirk, his hands casually tucked into his pockets.

So damn relaxed.

So damn in control.

Tch.

He always had that effect—on people, on the battlefield, and now… on me.

I could still remember the battles of our past life.

Heavenly Demon. The only man who ever stood equal to me.

The only one I ever respected.

And now, standing in front of me again…

I felt it.

That same hunger. That same fire.

And I knew.

No one in this world could handle him in bed.

Certainly not weak women like that bitch Bardot.

The thought of Abigail Bardot made my blood boil.

She was a disgrace.

A woman who had everything—a loyal husband, a powerful man, someone willing to die for her—

And she threw it all away.

For what?

For some pathetic celebrity toyboy who only wanted her money?

"Hah." I let out a bitter chuckle. "You're an absolute fool, Abigail."

But I wasn't.

Unlike her, I knew exactly what I wanted.

And right now—

I wanted him.

I licked my lips, my amethyst eyes darkening as I stared at him. "Tell me, Samuel… or should I say Wolf? Who told you about my name?"

His smirk only widened.

He tilted his head slightly, his voice dripping with amusement. "Does it matter? You're not exactly hiding, are you… Roselle Vasilyev?"

Hearing my full name from his lips sent a strange thrill through me.

I stepped closer, my lips curling into a smirk. "I should kill you."

He chuckled. "Yeah? Or are you planning to drag me to your bed first?"

I raised an eyebrow. He saw right through me.

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, knowing whisper.

"Come on, Roselle. I know you."

He looked down at me, his emerald eyes burning into mine. "You want me in your bed right now, don't you?"

My breath hitched, but I refused to look away.

Because he wasn't wrong.

He was the only man in all my lives who had ever made me feel this way.

The only man who had never bowed.

He was standing before me—no longer Samuel Gebb.

Now, he was Wolf.

And I?

I was Roselle Vasilyev.

The Mafia Queen of Moscow.

And this was far from over.