Chapter Text
Recap:
I open the door and leave that…fucking hellhole of a room.
I slam it shut behind me and stand frozen in the hallway, heart pounding so loudly it drowns everything else out.
My hands shake when I raise them. I’m the one trembling now.
That…That—
I bite down hard on my tongue. Blood floods my mouth.
I glare down the hallway, senses stretching—feeling exactly where he is.
He thinks he’s clever.
And he is.
I fucking despise him.
He’s a demon alright. The name fits the face.
I take a step toward him. Then another. My muscles are taut beneath the dress, rage rippling through me. My fists clench.
The taste of his kiss from last night curdles on my lips. Acid burns down my throat, fueled by fury alone.
He better get on his fucking knees and pray for my compliance.
Because what we just started is about to decay faster than the rot that spills from his mouth.
0o0o0o0o
The hallway is darker than normal—shadows scatter along the walls as if frightened and drawn to me all at once. Rage thrums through my body with enough force to level a country. My nails bite into my palms, crescents of pain grounding me as my teeth grind together, tension radiating into my jaw.
Why is it that when I finally want something—when I finally get it—something else has to crumble immediately after?
I just can’t have something because I want it.
The whole fucking world insists on testing my patience and emotions in return.
I stop midway to my bedroom, chest heaving, and glare up at the ceiling like it’s watching me.
I bet it’s this good-for-nothing piece of shit God watching me.
I flip off the ceiling with a snarl, my body burning from the inside out. Power claws through me—eating at my muscles, coiling tight beneath my skin, begging for release. What kind of power? I don’t know. I only know my emotions are stripping my thoughts down to one singular truth.
I have to face the problem that caused all of this.
The reason I’m always in misery.
Fitting—for a creature humankind is taught to stay away from. To despise.
What’s even more ironic is how well he plays at being human. His perfectionism. His symmetry. That’s the only thing that gives him away. No one is born perfect. Stare long enough and he becomes unsettling—like a statue that might breathe if you blink.
Of course, I’m the odd one out.
All I get are butterflies.
Not wariness.
So when I reach the door he led me into yesterday, all I can think about is biting into him. Literally and metaphorically. My fingers curl around the doorknob, skin prickling as I feel his presence on the other side.
Baiting me.
Encouraging me to open the door to my own horrors.
I brought this on myself.
I twist the knob. It cries softly into the night.
I welcomed a demon I thought I knew well enough.
The door swings open as I let go, its whine stretching through the silence—merciless. Final.
I felt safe enough to fall in love with it. Grow with it. Accompany it.
The doorway reveals something pretending to be human.
It’s mine.
I shove the rising voice down—not easy, not when that power crawls beneath my skin, threading down my arms, settling into my fingertips.
What kind of creature does this make me?
For allowing it?
His.
The thought is quieter now. More insidious.
He turns, face smooth as glass. Empty. Not even a smile.
I stand frozen just outside the threshold. I’m not scared.
I’m beyond livid. Livid enough to kill someone if I let myself.
I didn’t walk away from Fenian because I was angry.
I walked away because I was dangerous.
There’s a part of me furious with him too—but it pales compared to the real threat standing in front of me now. This demon. Whatever he truly is beneath the skin.
“You must think…” I breathe, heat fogging my lips like steam, “that it was amusing to watch you manipulate me once more into a situation that deals quite a bit of damage. Not to one, but two parties.”
I step inside and slam the door shut behind me. The wood splinters with a violent crack, fractures spider-webbing across the surface.
His eyes flick to the damage.
Narrowing, tracing—digesting its pattern.
I take another step. The air tightens, pressure building like it might bend to his will at any moment.
“Do you feel your ego swelling, knowing you orchestrated everything perfectly?” I glare at him, heat flaring behind my eyes. “You not only put me in a position where I can’t pull away from you—but also distanced me from him!”
I shout, stabbing my finger down the hallway where I left my brother behind.
“Tell me, Sebastian!” I scream, invading his space. His eyes burn brighter red with every word spilling from my mouth.
My voice ricochets off the stone walls, ringing in my ears. My heart slams painfully against my ribs—tight, choking.
“You are correct.”
The words hit like ice water.
I blink, my fury short-circuiting into stunned confusion—then snapping back twice as violent.
“‘You are correct.’” I spit his words back at him. “That’s all you have to say!?”
He tilts his head, almost thoughtful, glancing briefly at the wall.
“Hn.” He hums softly before his gaze returns to me. “What else is there for me to say?”
Something inside me fractures.
Shatters.
“You are—!” I choke the rest down, retreating a step as I wrap my arms around myself, nails digging into my sleeves. “Do you have any idea how this makes me feel? We-We literally kissed not even 24 hours ago, and you still thought it was okay? Even knowing how fucked up this whole situation is?!”
He clasps his hands behind his back, eyes focused on something invisible—calculating.
“Do you regret kissing a monster—knowing it was a monster?” He begins to circle me, slow and deliberate, like a predator assessing prey. “No, perhaps, I should rephrase. Do you regret loving a monster—knowing it was one?”
The question lands like dead weight in my gut.
I can’t lift my eyes.
It echoes in my head—mocking. Relentless.
And I have no answer.
That earlier voice claws at the edges of my mind again, but I slam the hatch shut. Heat blooms as his body draws close. His presence crowds my space. His hair brushes my neck.
“Rina?” he whispers, voice slick with amusement. “Do you understand the consequences to our agreement now?”
He chuckles darkly. The sound crawls down my spine.
Something wet drags along the side of my neck.
I stiffen.
Cold kisses the marked skin and heat detonates deep inside me. I try to control it from spreading.
“You can’t run from me. You are bound to me.” His breath ghosts over the spot he licked. “You can be angry, irritated, or whatever you feel towards me. But you cannot escape me—ever.”
I walked into a trap.
I knew it was set.
I just didn’t realize what the cost would be.
Naive.
Or…was it?
I turn to face him fully. He steps back with a small, delighted smirk, red eyes glittering. I crane my neck to meet his gaze—his height no longer intimidating.
Just irritating.
“You’re a bastard.”
His smirk widens.
“Oh? Name calling, now, are we?” he mocks lightly. “Do you feel better, my dear?”
He enjoys this.
I press my lips together, fury simmering beneath forced calm.
“No.” I gesture behind him. “Get on the bed, will you?”
His eyebrow lifts. The smirk falters.
“…Huh?”
I smile sweetly.
“Get on it.”
His jaw tightens as he studies me—calculating.
“Why?”
I don’t answer.
I only gesture again.
He slowly turns, watching me with every measured step toward the bed—as if gauging whether this is another trap or something worse. He sits when he reaches it, posture still immaculate despite the tension humming between us. I close the distance, my smile sweet enough to rot teeth.
“I’m going to reward you now.”
I lift my eyes fully, finally letting myself look at him.
He actually listened.
Game changer.
“Reward?” He repeats the word like it’s foreign on his tongue. “I do not follow.”
I place a knee between his open legs, bracing myself there—claiming the space before he can reconsider. His eyes widen, genuine surprise flickering across his face. I lean over him, one hand gripping his shoulder for balance, feeling the solidity beneath my fingers.
“Surely,” I hum, tugging at his tie with careless fingers, letting it slide and sway between us. “I should show you that I am impressed by your tactics. I mean, you won a game I didn’t know I was playing after all.”
His pupils dilate instantly, bleeding into something unmistakably inhuman. His gaze tracks my hand at his tie like it’s the only thing anchoring him to the moment.
“Rina…?”
His voice tightens—barely.
A sick thrill curls in my stomach.
I like the way he sounds when he loses control.
“You do like saying my name more often…” I remark lightly, letting my hand drift lower, abandoning the tie as if it bores me now. My fingers trail over his stomach, and he twitches beneath the fabric, breath catching despite himself. “I admit, it sounded nice enough to fool me.”
My fingers ghost over his thigh.
His breath hitches—audible, betrayed.
“I’ve also noticed ‘my dear’ following some of your sentences too.” I lean closer, invading his space completely now. Our faces hover inches apart. His eyes flick to mine, anticipation and interest pooling dark and heavy in his pupils. He likes this. Whatever this is.
Heat flares against my neck, sharp and unmistakable—his response bleeding into me whether I want it or not.
I let our lips brush.
Barely.
Then my hand clenches into a fist and I punch him hard between the legs.
He gasps violently, body folding forward with a choked groan. I jump back just in time as he lurches, balance broken, pain ripping through him. For a heartbeat I’m not sure if it worked—
—but it did.
Even demons have weaknesses.
I grin, my fist trembling from impact and adrenaline.
He snarls something in a language I don’t recognize—jagged and infernal, the sound scraping down my spine. It should repulse me.
Instead, it fills my stomach with traitorous butterflies.
I shove the feeling down hard.
“Now, how does it feel,” I snarl, teeth clenched, fury surging back to the surface. “To be manipulated through touch, words, and need? Hm? Bet it doesn’t feel great!”
His glare burns white-hot, his face twisting as his true nature threatens to tear through the human mask. Darkness coils at his edges—but it doesn’t scare me.
Not now.
“You’re a piece of shit, who doesn’t even deserve my love.” Shadows writhe at my feet, thick and angry, a reflection of what’s clawing its way out of my chest. I don’t look down—I don’t need to. “You deserve to live in Hell.”
I spit at his feet and turn away, every step stiff with pride I refuse to surrender. I’ll show him what it means to fuck around and find out.
I let his manipulation cost me the closest relationship I have left.
Love really does make you blind.
And my love makes me a fucking idiot.
The realization tastes bitter.
I open the door—the wood still splintered from earlier.
I feel his gaze on my back, heavy and consuming, anger simmering beneath my skin like it belongs there. Beckoning me to turn around.
I don’t.
I don’t want to be near the thing that makes me want to start a war—even if I’m bound to him by stupid demon magic.
I pass my luggage, then stop abruptly. My hands shake as I dig through one of the pouches and pull out a pair of lace gloves. My gaze drops to the ring on my finger—the one that sealed everything. Mocking in its permanence.
I slip it off.
I spin back toward him and throw it hard. He catches it effortlessly, the metal glinting in the low light—glowing brightest in the dark.
“I don’t need jewelry from you.” I growl. “I loved you without chains.”
His eyes widen for just a second before a slow, knowing smirk curls across his mouth. His gaze darkens as he leans back against the wall, relaxed in a way that makes my skin crawl.
He’s measuring what I didn’t destroy.
And enjoying it.
He studies the ring in his palm, light reflecting faintly off his glove.
“Yes.”
One word. Nothing extra.
“You did.”
I swallow, forcing my breath steady.
“Then remember that,” I say quietly, my back already turned. “Because you don’t get to pretend you didn’t change it.”
I leave him there.
I don’t look back.
Tears burn suddenly behind my eyes, my chest heavy and hollow all at once.
I don’t feel better.
I feel worse.
0o0o0o0o
To say my mood has improved would be correct.
I stalk through Lau’s den like I own the place, spine straight, chin lifted. After putting Sebastian in his place—or so he allows me to believe—I feel untouchable. Regal. Dangerous. This short Chinese dress clings like it was made for defiance. Nina would be losing her mind if she could see me.
Lau materializes behind me before I hear him, presence oily and amused. He peers over my shoulder with a sly grin.
“Oho!~ It seems you are in a better mood.”
I shoot him an irritated glance.
I can only take so much of the drug lord.
“I am.”
He circles me slowly, eyes sharp as he takes me in from head to toe.
“Did you two finally relieve the ‘tension’?” He hums, then tilts his head. “Or maybe not…”
He pouts dramatically.
I frown.
“What ‘tension’?”
He smiles like a cat who knows something I don’t.
“Oh? It seems our lady is still just that.”
I sweatdrop.
“I don’t know what you are hinting at—but I’m just going to say ‘fuck off’ kindly.”
I turn and head for a couch.
Baldroy and Snake are nearby, chatting with some of the workers. Baldroy’s eyes linger far too long on a woman passing by. I slip up behind him and smack the back of his head.
“OW!” He yelps, cigarette wobbling. “What the Hell was that for!?”
I cross my arms.
“For leering, you pervert.”
The woman flees instantly.
Snake blinks at us, confused. Poor thing.
A vein throbs at Baldroy’s temple.
“Doesn't mean I have to be hit! No—wait, er. I-I mean—” He clears his throat, cheeks flaming as he looks away.
“Oh, so you admit you were being a pervert. At least you know yourself well.”
His eyes flick back to me—then immediately to my legs.
He turns redder.
“I-I can’t help it if all you females are walking around looking like that!”
“Females?” I shout. “I have a name! I’m more than just legs!”
His face twists uncomfortably.
“Ms. Rina,” Snake interrupts gently, pointing at my legs. “When did you get those scars?”
Everything stops.
Baldroy follows Snake’s gaze. The air thickens. Smoke burns my throat.
“Are those from—”
I step back instinctively, the room shrinking around me.
Fenian.
“They are.”
The words scrape out.
My palms sweat. I want to stay. I should face this.
But this knowledge feels invasive. Personal. Only Tanaka, Sebastian, and Fenian know.
This is private.
This is failure.
My body chooses for me.
I turn and walk.
Dizziness swells as I head back to the room I left Sebastian in.
I need space.
I’ll kick him out.
But when my senses stretch, searching—he’s gone.
Thank God.
The door is repaired when I reach it. Of course it is.
I close it behind me and cross to the bed, dread curling deeper the longer I stay. I fold in on myself, staring down at the burns on my skin.
They ache like they’re new.
I hold myself tighter.
I close my eyes, a tear slipping free before I can stop it. It disappears into the pillow, absorbed like it never mattered.
I pretend things are fine more often than I should. I know they aren’t. I know better. I just don’t know how to stop.
I need to fix things with Fenian.
The thought aches, a dull throb spreading through my chest like a bruise pressed too hard. Guilt sits heavy there—earned, deserved.
So why is it that when my heart stutters, when my thoughts scatter, he’s the one that fills the silence?
Sebastian.
Another tear escapes, slower this time, trailing down my cheek with humiliating patience. It feels deliberate. Accusatory.
I’m as horrible as a demon.
I long for someone who will kill what I love most.
And lately, I can’t tell if my love is simply being worn down—or if it’s already been claimed. Owned. Reshaped into something I don’t recognize anymore.
0o0o0o0o
A soft knock pulls me from a shallow, dreamless sleep. For a moment, I cling to the dark—grateful for how it dulls everything. Sleep lets me disappear. It gives me a break from being me.
I open my eyes reluctantly. They burn. Heavy. I almost refuse to acknowledge the room, the bed, the truth waiting with it.
The door creaks open.
I lift my head just enough to see, then bury my face back into my arms, leaving only my eyes exposed. I lie flat on my stomach, unmoving. Playing dead feels safer.
Sebastian enters like I knew he would—like I felt he would. A tray rests in one gloved hand; the other closes the door with quiet finality.
He looks at me the way one studies a trapped animal.
Cornered. Assessed.
It isn’t far from the truth.
The only light comes from a candle melting itself away in the corner. Its glow wavers, uncertain. Weak.
Any comfort it once offered dissolves the moment he steps fully into the room. Now it just feels eerie. Unnatural.
The scent of him reaches me before his footsteps—iron and smoke and something darker beneath it all. Something familiar enough to make my stomach twist. Hunger, maybe. Or guilt. Or death.
They’re starting to blur together.
He doesn’t speak.
That’s worse.
The tray settles somewhere behind me, porcelain whispering against wood. The sound is careful. Measured. As if he’s afraid one wrong noise might shatter me completely.
As if I’m not already fractured.
I don’t move.
If I stay still enough, maybe he’ll leave.
If I stay still enough, maybe I won’t have to look at him.
The mattress dips.
Just barely.
My breath stutters before I can stop it—too loud, too human. I tighten my arms around my head, nails biting into my skin. Not enough to draw blood. Just enough to feel real.
Still here.
Still me.
His presence fills the room like pressure before a storm. I feel his gaze like fingers at my throat—measuring, weighing. The way he looks at prey when he’s deciding whether it’s worth the effort to finish the job.
He built a cage.
And I walked into it willingly.
The candle flickers, stretching his shadow along the wall—too long, too sharp. I squeeze my eyes shut.
Don’t look.
Don’t give him that.
“You haven’t eaten,” he says at last.
His voice is quiet. Controlled. Polished to perfection.
It still scrapes.
I don’t answer.
The silence swells, thick and heavy with judgment. I can feel his patience thinning—not breaking, not yet, but fraying like paper held too close to flame. He hates this. Hates watching me sink inward.
It irritates him that I’m sulking.
Good.
He doesn’t deserve absolution anyway.
Not for what he did earlier.
“I brought soup,” he continues, as if describing something ordinary might make this moment harmless. “And bread. You need your strength.”
The words slide past me. I swallow anyway. My throat burns, raw and tight, like I’ve been screaming for hours instead of swallowing everything whole.
“I don’t care.” I murmur, the words crushed against my arms. They come out smaller than I mean them to. Fragile. I hate that more than anything.
The mattress shifts again.
He’s closer now.
Too close.
Close enough that his heat seeps through the thin sheet, sinking into my skin like a slow brand—marking, claiming, reminding me exactly how real he is.
“You should take what is offered before you complain when it disappears.” he says.
There it is.
Not quite a command. Not mercy either. Something heavier. Something ancient. A reminder of power. Of teeth behind politeness.
Of what he is.
I snap upright, finally turning to face him, anger cutting through the fog.
“And what if I’m not satisfied with what I’ve been served?” I hiss, exhaustion and fury tangling together until I can’t separate them.
His lips curl.
That cruel, knowing smirk—the devil’s grin he wears like second skin.
“Then you should deal with it as you always have. Endure.”
Something inside me recoils.
I shift fully now, sitting beside him. Our shoulders nearly brush. The space between us is razor-thin, electric, dangerous.
I stare at him.
Really stare.
Up close, he’s immaculate. Coat smooth. Gloves spotless. Not a single trace of the chaos he unleashed earlier clings to him. No sign of the monster who nearly ripped my world apart.
Only perfection.
My hands curl into the sheets, knuckles whitening.
“Is that what you think this is?” I ask quietly. “Me…enduring?”
His eyes flick to my hands—just for a moment.
He notices everything. He always has.
“I think,” he says, voice maddeningly calm, “that you have survived worse.”
The words hit wrong.
They always do.
A laugh tears out of me—short, sharp, empty. It feels like broken glass scraping my throat. “You mean I didn’t die,” I say. “Those aren’t the same thing.”
Something flickers in his gaze.
Gone just as quickly.
He straightens, posture perfect, as if distance might restore control.
It doesn’t.
“I ensured your survival.” he says.
I scoff. “You ensured it?”
My chest tightens. Heat burns behind my eyes, threatening. I shove it back down. I will not cry. Not again. Not for him.
“You left me with Undertaker,” I snap, his name poison on my tongue. “And left me with a boy I thought was dead.”
I shove at his chest, fury flaring hot and sudden.
The room seems to shrink around us.
Sebastian’s jaw tightens. A muscle jumps beneath his cheekbone. He looks away—just barely.
Not from shame.
From calculation.
“We have been over this already. There is no need to revisit the topic.” he says.
That’s it.
That’s all he gives me.
I don’t have room for more barking. The argument collapses before it can even take shape.
“What do you even get out of me surviving?” I whisper.
I can’t look at him when I ask it. I don’t trust myself to survive the answer if I do.
His gloved hand closes around mine.
Firm.
Careful.
Possessive.
I stare at it, confused, frozen.
Then I look up.
His human features are gone—melting away into inky blackness, red eyes burning straight through me.
“You.”
One word.
It steals the air from my lungs.
The possessive weight of it drags me under, like a spell I know too well. My thoughts scatter. My fears blur. The idea of him, consuming, taking—of what my love costs—fades dangerously close to nothing.
No.
I do hate him.
The certainty lands too fast.
That’s what scares me.
I rip my hand free, fingers digging into the sheets like I need an anchor to stay human. The space between us sharpens—not distance, but awareness.
“That wasn’t…me.” I say softly.
Sebastian doesn’t deny it.
He knows exactly what I mean.
“Part of you.” he corrects evenly.
The truth hits harder than any lie ever could.
My throat tightens. “You didn’t answer my question.”
He studies me—red eyes steady, precise. Not predatory.
Evaluating.
“You survive,” he says at last, “because your existence is…advantageous.”
There it is.
Clean.
Bloodless.
Honest.
“And emotionally?” I press, hating how thin my voice sounds.
His gaze flickers.
Just slightly.
“You are significant,” he says. “That does not negate the former.”
My chest aches—not because he’s cruel.
But because he isn’t pretending.
“So if I stopped being advantageous?” I ask.
A pause.
Not avoidance.
Calculation.
“That eventuality,” he says carefully, “has not occurred.”
That’s his answer.
I exhale shakily. “You scare me.”
He doesn’t smile.
“That,” Sebastian replies, “is an accurate assessment.”
Silence stretches between us, thick and deliberate.
I lean back against the wall, carving out space he doesn’t try to reclaim.
“You didn’t save me because you’re kind.” I say.
“No.” he agrees.
“You didn’t save me because you love me.”
Another pause.
“No.” he repeats.
My throat burns. “Then say it.”
His gaze never wavers.
“I saved you,” he says, “because losing you would be…inconvenient.”
Something hums beneath my skin at the word—sharp, aching, alive.
Inconvenient.
Truth, bent just enough to cut.
0o0o0o0o
