The Devil in a Suit

A tremendously intense sensation swelled within me, and I abruptly opened my eyes. My gaze passed over the professor who was energetically presenting the enticing slides of a kidnapping case, and I looked directly at the chirping birds flying outside the window. I knew I had once again fallen asleep during class. What's more, I was aware that the strange dreams I had been having lately were inevitably linked to Carrie. Her actions, like not answering my calls, taking hours or even not replying to my messages, and the piercing glances she shot me at school, all made me quite certain that she intended to label me as environmentally unfriendly.

In fact, a man's sixth sense can be quite accurate. Yesterday afternoon, Little Mia had asked me to meet her under the campus sycamore tree. She was wearing the purple flowered dress I had bought with two months of hard-earned wages and carrying the bag I had emptied my pockets for. She turned around, her grace infinite, and said, "Michael, I've fallen in love with Tom, so I've decided to break up with you."

The moment I heard that name, it sent shivers down my spine.

Tom Ellis, the young professor who had recently arrived at our school's theology department, was a well-known figure. With deep-set eyes, a high nose bridge, and a facial structure that resembled something out of a comic book, he was quite the enigmatic character. It was said that he had returned from Europe just two years ago, already looking like a mixed-blood with his peculiar accent. I had initially dismissed him as a pretentious individual. But in this day and age, many women seemed to favor his unconventional looks.

Rumor had it that he came from a European aristocratic family, with several relatives serving as ambassadors, making his influence quite astonishing. As for his reason for coming to the United States, in his own words, it was to "seek a beautiful angel lost in paradise." Such clichéd and silly lines would make most people cringe, but when spoken by Tom Ellis, they became what people referred to as "captivating verses of life."

Although Tom Ellis did indeed possess a level of handsomeness that transcended human limits, many were skeptical of his god-like status at first. It wasn't until a certain incident when a certain woman got into his Ferrari and saw a framed photo on the driver's seat that everyone believed this man was truly extraordinary.

It was a photo of a black-haired youth. According to the woman's description, the youth's appearance was on par with Tom Ellis, but his aura far surpassed the already noble Tom Ellis. With curly short hair, his hairstyle and features had a certain androgynous quality, but his eyes were blood-red, and his smile exuded aggression. He had a red rose tattoo on his eye. In an ornate palace, he reclined on a black velvet couch, dressed in vintage attire, and held a long pipe, looking devilishly out of place. When people asked Tom Ellis who the person in the photo was, he would simply smile faintly and, in his broken English, say, "He's our little master."

Little master.

What a mysterious title. I had no idea how long this drama would continue, but I knew that creatures with red eyes were limited to four types: vampires, demons, rabbits, and a condition known as "red-eye syndrome."

That Tom Ellis, that scoundrel, should have met an early demise.

Some say that cursing someone to death over a stolen lover is uncouth, immoral, and lacking in character. But I had reached a point where I didn't care anymore.

My name is Michael, and I started dating when I was eight years old. So, I've had over ten years of experience navigating the world of relationships. With my unparalleled good looks and a silver tongue that could charm even the birds from the trees, I've conquered every girlfriend from the first to the fourteenth. However, things took a turn when I entered college and began dating my fifteenth girlfriend. Every time I pursued and she agreed, it inevitably ended in a breakup within two weeks.

Getting dumped became a common occurrence, but in the world of pursuing women, it's rare for anyone to have a perfect track record. What made it even more disheartening was losing to the same person every time.

What's most frustrating is that Tom Ellis has never once explicitly expressed his affection for any of my girlfriends. Relationships without marriage as the goal are nothing but games. Tom Ellis is the king of rogues at our school. Thinking about what Carrie said just makes me frustrated.

She passionately swore to break up with me, and although deep down I knew it was "him" again, I had to save face and say, "I'm clearly more handsome."

Little Mia didn't respond directly; instead, she blushed and said with infinite admiration, "Michael, you are indeed very handsome, like an angel, pure and clean. When I see you, I always want to protect and take care of you. But, do you know? The first time I saw Tom, it was like seeing a seductive devil. His gaze, wicked yet full of allure, seemed like it could drag me into hell with him, just like Eve tempted by the forbidden fruit... Such a tone, you can tell she's been watching too many art films and Japanese anime. I replied, "Really stimulating, isn't it?"

Watching Little Mia roll her eyes and walk away, leaving a beautiful silhouette behind, I was convinced that I owed Tom Ellis something from a past life. Ever since he enrolled, he had been giving me murderous glares, not only stealing my girlfriends but also constantly following me. He even took the opportunity to suppress me as he accompanied his girlfriend to his theology class. I suspected he was a pervert.

After listening to an entire lecture on kidnapping crimes, my mood grew even more depressed.

These past few days had driven me a little insane, probably because there were too many keywords in my life related to Tom Ellis, such as "prince," "noble," "Europe," and "mixed-blood." Coupled with Carrie's angel-devil theories, I even had a dream during a short nap in class. In the dream, I stood in a Western-style old building, and it was pouring rain outside. I was saying some despairing words to a female angel named Barbelo. I couldn't remember the specifics, but at the end of the dream, I kept repeating the name Lucifer, and the level of sadness in my emotions persisted even after I woke up, with my eyes even feeling a bit moist.

People with a bit of common knowledge know that Lucifer is the name of a great demon in Western mythology, often associated with demons or Satan. However, whether in anime, novels, or games, this demon lord symbolizes both evil power and extreme beauty. Those women all said that Tom Ellis had the aura of a demon lord and repeatedly emphasized that Tom is Lucifer.

So, I speculated that this was why I was tearfully uttering this name in my dream.

That evening had an unusually desolate twilight, with the sunset carrying a sense of profound sadness. As the crowd emerged from the classroom building, I grabbed two bottles of beer from the convenience store and sprawled on the lawn outside the men's dormitory, letting the sprinkler water me as if I were a plant.

Evans once said that women and alcohol could easily render a man utterly foolish. That statement held true. I swallowed a bitter sip of beer and muttered to myself, "If women can't see past this handsome face of mine, then what's the point?"

"Actually, it's you who can't see beyond yourself."

Those familiarly broken English words floated into my ears, jolting me awake. I quickly feigned sleep, burying my head in the grass, but I could feel a dark cloud hovering over me. Finally, I turned my head and, with determination, looked at Tom Ellis, who was meticulously adjusting his suit collar.

"Tom Ellis, if all the women in this world were gone, the first thing I'd do is swallow a piece of gold."

Tom Ellis paid no attention to my heroic confession, just hung his head and smiled. "Is that so? Don't my looks make you uncomfortable?"

It was already twilight, and he was backlit, so his features weren't perfectly clear. But perhaps it was due to the fading light and blurred vision that, as I looked at his face, a deep sense of melancholy and frustration welled up from within me. Finally, I stood up boldly, pointed the bottom of my beer bottle at his head, and shouted:

"Whatever you do with other women is your business, but, Tom Ellis, if you dare to do anything to hurt Carrie, I won't spare you!"

In the autumn breeze, Tom Ellis approached me with the grace of a legend. Standing at 6'7", with a model-like physique, it reminded me of something a BBC radio host had once said: "There're no secrets to being charming for a man. Just be tall."

I looked up at him and suddenly didn't want to stand too close to him. I took two steps back.

He sneered, "It seems like you really care about that woman. Do you not remember anything from before?"

"Repeat it one more time, and if you have the guts to mess with her, I'll make sure you pay!"

"Your Highness, I understand your pain in escaping from there. But at the very least, you need to retrieve everything you've lost. If you can't, I'll help you."

"I didn't lose anything... Wait, did you just call me what?"

"Your Highness, I know you're suffering right now, but I hope you understand your position. Besides, you were the one who wronged Her Majesty."

"Are you rehearsing a play or something?"

"So..." He suddenly looked up. "You'd better go back and take a look!"

This guy was showing his true colors today. Such a melodious voice, yet he still had to shout.

Seeing that he didn't seem quite normal at the moment, I squinted at him and immediately sprinted toward the school gate, standing in the middle of the road, waiting for a car to pass.

Cars coming and going sped past the crowd of students. A huge bus roared by, packed with people, and in the blink of an eye, I saw Tom Ellis on the other side of the road: wearing an expensive, impeccably tailored suit jacket over a black overcoat, a long scarf draped casually around his neck, a quintessential British gentleman. Tom Ellis leaned elegantly against the car door of a Ferrari, his chin raised in a beautifully sculpted posture, and he smiled at me.

The female students around him had already turned into puddles of mud.

But cold sweat broke out on my back. Wasn't he just inside the school moments ago? How did he get to the other side so quickly?

Before I could glance again to confirm, I saw him blink. Even from across the street, I could clearly distinguish those deep red eyes.

Where did this guy buy those lifelike contact lenses?

Just as I was thinking this, I noticed something in the corner of my eye—a shadow on the ground.

Behind that human silhouette, two long, bat-like wings appeared out of thin air. Moreover, the shadow continued to rise, and the wings flapped slowly and extensively.

Meanwhile, he wore an expression of casual contentment on his face, as if he was completely unaware that he had been possessed by a demon.

In the next moment, his black overcoat and short hair seemed to come alive, swirling in the strong wind.

I admit, I was scared by this rascal. Trying to back away in increasing fear, I took another step back.

Now wasn't the time to be thinking about this, but...

Bright headlights flashed.

I suddenly turned my head, unable to open my eyes because of the intense light.

Car horns blared.

"Your Highness—!!"

At the same time, my soul floated away.

Looking back at the spot where I had just been, Tom Ellis was gone. I ascended higher and higher, watching my body below, and remembered a famous scene from "The Grudge": blood flowing from the body like a waterfall, while the soul danced in the thin air of the high altitude.

What was happening? Was I dead?

From high above, I observed the chaotic crowd below, saw the bus driver panicking as he slapped the corpse's face, took out his identification from his pocket, and hurriedly made a phone call. Meanwhile, my body continued to rise at a terrifying and desperate speed, as if it was about to break through the clouds and soar into the boundless universe.

The record store on the street was playing a familiar old song, and the volume grew softer and softer. The lyrics were crystal clear. Looking at the gruesome sight below, I thought, if I were truly moved at this moment, I would sit up in my body and let him see me again. The driver would definitely remember this scene.