Chapter 3 - Blood Pact (Part 1)

After leaving the church, Daemom bought a coffee at Starhills and sat on a bench in the city park. Leaning back, he brought the cup to his lips and drank his pure, bitter coffee.

Modesto was a boring town. Daemom's only entertainment was watching people fall into hell – literally.

To many, it might seem sadistic, but he genuinely enjoyed seeing people succumb to the temptations of demons, their impure souls falling into hell's embrace. It was poetic and beautiful in his eyes.

Daemom had always believed that humans should bear the consequences of their actions. Watching a soul become dirty and repugnant perfectly embodied what he believed most.

"May I sit here, young man?"

Looking up, Daemom saw an elderly man with a kind demeanor. He was slightly bent with age, but his smile was younger than that of any teenager Daemom had seen, though his eyes told a completely different story.

"The bench is public, old man," Daemom replied casually, curling his lips. His blue eyes focused on the demon behind the old man.

It was a female demon, her skin covered in pink scales with slightly stronger tones at the edges, sporting upward-pointing golden horns and slightly pointed ears. Her tail, covered in pink scales, gracefully swayed back and forth in the air.

Unlike any other demon Daemom had seen before, this one had a somewhat more youthful appearance, resembling a human girl of fourteen, standing about 5'2" tall. She had short crimson hair and her reptilian eyes matched the color of her scales.

In terms of appearance, she was incredibly beautiful, so beautiful that she was the most stunning woman he had ever seen in his short fifteen years of life. Even Daemom, who had almost supernatural control over his own body and desires, couldn't help but take a second look at her.

It's worth noting that Daemom didn't encounter demons so regularly; perhaps one in a thousand people was influenced by a demon. It was curious, but Daemom understood that some souls were purer than others, and the old man in front of him was one of those pure souls.

Perhaps demons preferred purer souls, although it was somewhat uncertain, given that he had also seen cases of impure souls being pursued by a demon.

Another curious thing was that demons couldn't tell that Daemom could see them – another thing he never quite understood.

"Thank you, young man," the old man graciously replied, unaffected by Daemom's tone, and seated himself with some effort on the bench beside him.

His meticulously combed white hair fluttered gently in the breeze as he narrowed his eyes and smiled contentedly, feeling the comforting breeze against his face.

Turning his head, the old man continued to smile, speaking with a nostalgic and slightly melancholic tone. "I used to come to this same bench with my wife. She loved feeling the wind in her hair; she never changed from when we were children."

Despite his gentle smile and warm-toned voice, his eyes reflected deep exhaustion.

Looking at the old man, Daemom squinted and understood why the man had a demon behind him. He knew that tired look all too well.

For a moment, flashbacks of a twelve-year-old girl hanging by a rope in a room appeared before Daemom. The girl seemed to grimace at him while her body convulsed violently.

"Daemom... you... killed me..."

The girl spoke with difficulty as she struggled desperately to breathe.

Daemom woke up feeling someone gently touching his shoulder.

"Are you okay, young man?" The old man asked with a slightly concerned voice, watching the young man suddenly go pale.

Taking a deep breath, he nodded to the old man and replied in a hoarse voice. "I'm fine."

The old man looked deeply at him and nodded. Removing his hand from his shoulder, he introduced himself. "Victor Muller."

"Daemom," Daemom replied, leaning back on the wooden bench.

After the introductions, silence settled between them, both remaining quiet for a long time.

But Daemom finally broke the silence between them.

"Did you love your wife?" He asked, looking at the old man who was stunned by his abrupt question.

"My life seemed to lose its purpose when she died." Victor placed his hands on his thighs and spoke, staring straight ahead with a tone full of melancholy.

"I've never felt a love like that, but I imagine I would feel the same as you if I truly loved someone," Daemom followed his gaze and replied calmly, his voice lower than usual.

Victor looked surprised at the young man and smiled nostalgically. "You'll know when you truly love. It's like your world has no color without her by your side." He seemed to see his late wife sitting next to him for a brief moment.

Daemom nodded silently, but inside, he wasn't sure if he could love someone at the level of the old man next to him. Opening up to someone had always been complicated for him. Though he didn't want to admit it, letting someone see his true self terrified him a bit.

Sipping his coffee, the bitterness of the liquid sobered him up, and Daemom spoke slowly. "Old man, I won't ask you to stop what you're about to do, but I'll give you advice. You can listen to it or ignore it; that's your choice and yours alone."

"If your wife is anything like you, she'll be waiting for you in the afterlife. If you don't want your wife to wait for you for all eternity, I advise you to die a natural death."

Ignoring the shocked expression on the man's face due to his words, Daemom continued speaking. "I understand that ending the pain seems like the easiest way out, but did you know that the easiest things often come with the highest price? Suicide is a sin, one of the gravest; you'll go to hell if you do it."

Daemom's intense blue eyes didn't leave Victor's face for a second as he spoke these words.

His eyes were so intense that they made the old man see a world full of flames and lamentations. In that gaze, Victor saw his own soul burning in crimson flames.

It was as if he could see hell through the young man's eyes. Deep, terrifying fear gripped Victor; a chill ran down his spine, his hairs stood on end, and he hastily recoiled with a look of terror.

Confused by Victor's reaction, Daemom looked perplexedly at the old man, who showed a terrifying expression as if he had just witnessed something extremely frightening.

"Are you alright?" Daemom asked, genuinely confused. The old man's actions truly puzzled him; he hadn't done anything, yet the old man in front of him was terrified, looking at him with pure terror.

Victor breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He looked at Daemom with a complex expression—fear, terror, and confusion made him feel extremely disoriented in that moment.

He didn't respond to Daemom's question and retreated again in fear. After hesitating for a moment, Victor got up from the bench and walked away without looking back, his steps slightly quicker than when he arrived. The earlier scene had deeply frightened him.

Watching the elderly man leave, Daemom's lips twisted unnaturally, but he remained silent, watching the sun gradually set on the horizon.

After a while, when the sun had completely set, Daemom turned his head and looked at the female demon who hadn't followed the old man; she remained on the bench, staring fixedly at him.

"What are you looking at?" He asked coldly. At this moment, Daemom didn't care how the demon could see him.

The female demon's tail swayed, and she smiled, revealing her knife-like pointed teeth.

"My eyes are mine; I look wherever I want," the childish-looking female demon spoke arrogantly in a sarcastic tone.

She spoke in a language incomprehensible to most people, but not to Daemom; he understood perfectly what the demon said. Word by word, almost as if he had always known how to understand that language, he even felt like he could speak it.