"...a malicious creature defined by deliberate aggravation."

A deceptively nondescript, generically aristocratic young man, the kind who wouldn't look out of place sipping champagne from a crystalline flute while mingling at some high-class party. He seems to be known by anyone worth knowing, and has a deep connections into any industry you can think of. The fact that he looks far too young to reference many of the events he speaks of is a fact willfully ignored by those he does business with.

As a human, he's known by many names. If you meet him as a demon, he's notoriously known as "Greed." Irregardless, he is an invaluable well of knowledge and resources. Engaging with him is assuredly beneficial, provided you can keep up with him - otherwise, you may find yourself stripped of your assets, or something more important and irreplaceable. He's the type of man who could condemn thousands to their deaths and play a hand of poker with the same unflappable smile.

His exact role in society is unclear as he performs a variety of tasks, his most high-profile one being the Director of International Commerce in the World Congress. It has a heavy role in deciding trade deals and currency exchange rates between participating nations, as well as the distribution of foreign aid in the event of a crisis. He conducts his business in a way that ensures the wealthy stay prosperous while also maintaining the general order of the world, tiptoeing the line between revolt and desolate income inequality. In this aspect he is seen as reliable and capable. He makes a habit of hoarding enormous amounts of wealth, unique artifacts, and knowledge. Strangely enough, he does not appear to gain enjoyment from doing so, but rather like it's a basic function of his existence as much as breathing and sleeping.

In his personal life, he is a performative jackass. Greed acts melodramatic and childish, littering his texts with emojis and talking in a deliberately cutesy way for no other reason than to annoy the person he is speaking with. He enjoys pushing the buttons of others and prompting them to react to him in unusual ways. He tailors his behavior to elicit such reactions. He never seems to take anything too seriously, or show anger beyond a puffy-cheeked pout, even when one of his precious belongings are taken from him. In summary, he's a difficult-to-read man who hides this quality of him by being as obnoxious and dumb as possible.

However, those who allow themselves to be drawn into thinking that he's incompetent are the ones he profits from the most. He's excellent at reading others to an improbable degree based off relatively shallow observations like body language, perhaps due to the volume of his experience. While most people realize that he possesses some form of immortality - he never seems to age from his vague late-twenties appearance - few people fully understand how long he has been alive for. 

Another mantle he holds is the chief proprietor of the pawn shop "Papillon," an antique store that reveals itself selectively to certain types of people. On its shelves are myriad rare objects, mythical artifacts, and precious jewels. He employs a rather droll succubus as a shop attendant, but occasionally he will directly consult with customers he takes an interest in. When he engages with them, he often makes deals that solves their problems conveniently. However, the victory is often halcyon as the price he asks for in return is always steep, and often the person's soul. He gives it the form of a gemstone or mineral and keeps his collection in a glass case by the front register in Papillon. When the whim strikes him, he will consume one, sating his appetite and adding to his stores of power.

Individuals who are sufficiently wary of him may be able to establish a long-term partnership, so long as they offer something that appeases him. He rarely takes anything by force, preferring to have things handed to him willingly or unwittingly. While he has a love of rare, beautiful things, he is incredibly patient and does not let desire consume him; rather, he is experienced and wise enough to temporarily admit defeat so he might fight another battle. It is self-evident that this creed has done him well, considering his position in the world and the size of his collection. In addition to that, he seems to be capable of nearly any kind of magic, or in possession of an object that will enable him to achieve a similar effect.

His origin seems to be fourteenth-century central Europe, born Emmerich Schreier to an unremarkable family. This changed when the Black Plague spread across Europe and wiped out millions. His hometown became renowned as a holy safe haven compared to the suffering and pestilence in nearby villages. He made his fortune during this time, selling remedies to fearful aristocrats and collecting various treasures from the homes of the deceased. Even as a teenager, he seemed mature and composed, possessing preternatural knowledge of medicine and world events, rarely staying in one place to be questioned or recruited. Eventually he climbed his way up to the top of society, outliving anyone who would be able to recognize him. He converted his collection into Papillon in the 1700s, effectively "settling down." 

However, when asked about his origin as Emmerich, he will give a smile as if he is remembering something nostalgic. Then, he will reference events that occurred before his recorded birth with the clarity of an eyewitness. It is a fact that few people ever know, but the entity that calls himself "Emmerich Schreier" or "Greed" or any other name is one that has lived for millennia, since the beginning of humanity. For some inexplicable reason, he has the ability to perfectly recall his past lives, memories of his first life just as vivid as memories of what he ate for breakfast that day. Across his lifetimes, he has accumulated expertise in just about every field one could study in, first out of necessity and then out of ennui. 

Even after running out of topics to learn about, he seems to carry himself with a drive beyond materialism, in spite of his name. Furthermore, he appears to possess an imperfect knowledge of the future at times. In spite of his occasionally accurate predictions, he doesn't claim to be clairvoyant. During his rare candid moments he displays a frustration at... something. There seems to be hidden truths to the world that only he is aware of, some goal he's working toward that nobody can discern.

As for knowing what he is or what he wants, you'd have to get into that complicated, inscrutable head of his, or maybe, make a deal...?

"What do you think is out there?"

The question slipped out, smooth and innocuous. It should have been vapid and worthless small talk, the kind between coworkers who are friends on the clock and strangers off it, but Alexandria felt the hair on her arms stand up. Like for some reason, this conversation meant something significant.

She looked up from her laptop screen to meet his gaze, the screen dimmed to match the lighting of the room.

"Well, sir... for one, all of our colleagues are outside, joyously imbibing copious amounts of alcohol and releasing their inhibitions."

Though, it wasn't as if it were any different in here, she thought as she eyed the amber liquid in her superior's glass, or lack thereof.

While Mr. Schubert was a cheerful, social man, Alexandria didn't think he was the type to indulge in heavy drinking. He was capable of holding down many glasses of wine and champagne at any business gathering, a sparkling crystal flute a weapon in his arsenal as much as his insincere smiles and piles of cash were. The stuff ravaging his insides at the moment must be strong, because this was the first time she'd seen such a rosy flush dusting his cheeks and nose. He never looked at her so candidly before.

It was... uncomfortable. Not because she thought that he would do anything inappropriate in his state of inebriation, of course. Rather, the overwhelming sincerity overflowing from his gaze made him seem like anyone other than Mr. Schubert, her goofy but unreadable employer. It was like he was naked with his clothes on. Or replaced by a doppelganger when she wasn't looking.

He groaned, brushing his cornsilk-blonde bangs back from his forehead. "You're thinkin' too small-scale. I'm talking about out there! Like, beyond the stars and stuff."

She blinked.

"How many planets are out there?"

He tilted his head back and emptied his glass, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. 

"How about alien life?"

"That's, uh..."

With a harsh clink, he slammed the glass back onto the table and leaned back in his chair so he was staring at the ceiling.

"You don't really have to answer. I'm just asking to fill the air. I know it's asinine and abstract, like I may as well as you 'what's the meaning of life?' or something."

He went limp like a ragdoll, an expression so bitter and petty on his face that Alexandria wanted to laugh, but she bit her lip to prevent the sound from leaking out.

"It seems silly to worry about what's outside our planet when there's so much undiscovered here, right?"

He chuckled. "You're such a child of this world. Alexandria. Thinking in such a complacent, pigeonholed way. It's very agreeable."

There it was, that half-complimentary, half-derogatory way of speaking that was entirely Mr. Schubert. She felt her shoulders relax, electing to ignore his tipsy babbling as she scheduled a series of meetings with Mr. Schubert's least favorite executives back-to-back.

Served him right for making her experience whatever that was just now.  

misc

• He's got a variety of names, changing them when he sees fit over the years. Some of these include: Cain Struthers, Roy Begnoche, Aleksandr Kowalski.
  • His real name? Only his lover would get to know something like that.
• His eye color is naturally red, something he has passed on to his descendants. Due to some enigmatic enhancement, they've become a pale, luminescent cyan.
• He's got cooking and handicraft skills that would put any artisan to shame. He's learned these skills in an attempt to make Ellie happy and live a fluffy domestic life, but she remains unimpressed, so he's become a world-class chef for nothing.
• Despite his noodle-y appearance, he's got decent musculature under all those layers of clothes. 
• The tattoo on his face is a symbol with no apparent meaning, not linked to anything in particular. Perhaps it has some kind of personal significance.
• His favorite food is chicken rice bowls, but it's not something he lets others know all that often.
• Prefers tea to coffee. His favorite is osmanthus.
• His go-to work music is light jazz piano. He also has a soft spot for girly pop.
• His most precious possession by far - more than any material treasure - is his memories and mind. He would despise having his mind tampered with, and so he protects it with layers upon layers of barriers and seals. 
  • His second most precious possession is a pink "Kiss the Cook" apron that Ellie bought for him as a joke.
• He's capable of loving, and quite deeply, but he rarely lets himself do so. He has light affection for his blood descendants and pet Ellie, but most others he feels apathetic towards. Whether they prosper or perish makes no difference to him.
  
• Inadvertently, he's become a life-coach/impromptu father-figure to a bunch of young girls. It's a role he tends to fall into for some reason when he's not actively trying to steal their souls.
• He hasn't much of a sex drive, which is why he is generally unaffected by Tarantella's succubus charm. He's got too much on his plate to think about relationships in general, but likely wouldn't turn down an earnest offer from someone brave enough to ask.
• What's he so mysteriously working towards? What does he know? In order to answer this question, his "info" tab would become twice as long, so I held back.