Bass thundered through the nightclub, vibrating the floor as strobe lights painted writhing bodies in stark flashes of neon. Sweat and perfume mingled in the air, creating an intoxicating haze. In the VIP section, separated from the chaos below, sat a peculiar figure.

He seemed out of place – wireframe glasses perched on classical features, a carefully maintained goatee contrasting with an almost childlike demeanor. His obsidian cane rested against the leather sofa, its diamond-crowned hilt catching light in hypnotic prismatic patterns. His suit, appearing black at first glance, revealed threads of gold when he moved, like stars appearing in twilight.

Alice weaved through the crowd, her crimson dress drawing lingering gazes. She'd learned long ago that beauty was both weapon and shield. Rich men were her specialty – their wallets as vulnerable as their egos. But this one was different. Something about his awkward posture, the way he flinched from others' attention, screamed 'tech millionaire.' Easy prey.

"Mind if I join you?" she purred, letting her perfume – jasmine with hints of vanilla – drift between them. His eyes darted away, fingers drumming nervously on his knee. Perfect.

"Y-yes, please." His voice barely carried over the music.

Alice slid closer, studying him. The watch on his wrist was worth a small fortune, but it was the cane that held her attention. The diamond seemed to pulse with its own inner light, impossibly large and flawless.

"You seem uncomfortable here," she touched his arm gently. “Not your usual scene?”

"I don't quite... fit in," he murmured, adjusting his glasses.

"You don't have to," she whispered, leaning closer. “You're perfect just as you are.”

The change was subtle at first – a straightening of his spine, a stillness replacing his nervous energy. When he laughed, the sound cut through the club's chaos like a blade through silk. The air grew heavy, charged with something ancient and dangerous.

"Perfect?" His voice resonated with unnatural clarity. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

Gone was the awkward tech genius. In his place sat something else – something that wore human form like an ill-fitting suit. His eyes held centuries of cold amusement.

"You humans," he said, each word falling like ice, "so quick to judge, to categorize, to assume superiority." He leaned forward, and Alice felt reality bend around him. “I've walked through death and found it wanting. Gods whisper my name in trembling prayer. And you thought to make me your mark?”

The diamond in his cane flared, casting shadows that shouldn't exist. Alice tried to move but found herself frozen, trapped in the gravity of his presence.

"For your presumption," he smiled, showing too many teeth, “you're mine now. Your will, your choices, your very essence – forfeit to one who stands beyond your comprehension.”

The club continued its hedonistic dance around them, oblivious to the ancient horror wearing designer suits and wireframe glasses, claiming its newest possession with a smile that had witnessed the birth and death of stars.