The sharp knock on the door rattled him awake.
"Detective Yohan — the Headless Angel has struck again."
Yohan groaned, dragging himself from the couch. The air in his apartment stank of cigarettes and stale coffee. Case files were scattered like abandoned corpses across the table — untouched for weeks. His service gun, still clean, rested beside a cracked picture frame.
He slipped on his coat.
"Let's see what the Angel has for us."
---
They led him to a church. The townspeople lingered outside in silence, as if the building belonged not to God but to the Devil.
Inside, Yohan froze.
The priest hung upside down, rope cutting into his ankles. His tongue severed, his head gone. Behind him, wings had been painted across the wall in thick, glistening blood — so perfectly angled that for a moment, Yohan almost believed they belonged to the corpse.
One officer gagged.
"What kind of sick bastard collects heads like trophies? Why hang him upside down?"
Yohan's lips curled into something between a smile and a grimace.
"Saint Peter."
The cop blinked.
"What the hell does that mean?"
"The Angel doesn't think he deserves to die like Jesus. No crucifixion, no martyrdom. Instead, the rope — the very tool he used to pray — killed him. His prayers silenced, his sins unheard."
The cops stared, horrified at how quickly Yohan read the scene.
He stepped closer to the blood wings, whispering to himself:
"What will be my punishment, Headless?"
That's when he noticed it — a slip of paper, soaked in blood.
He picked it up. His expression darkened.
"Take me to the mayor. Now. Call him, tell him his life is in danger."
---
But by the time they reached the mayor's mansion, it was already too late.
The man lay crushed beneath piles of cash and gold bars. His throat had been forced open, stuffed with coins until he choked. When they rolled the money away, Yohan saw them — golden wings stabbed into his back.
The room reeked of greed and death.
One officer whispered, trembling:
"What the hell just happened?"
Yohan's voice was colder now.
"Judgment."
The cop frowned. "How?"
"He sold his judgment for gold and cash," Yohan muttered. "But the gold was too heavy to carry. His greed buried him alive."
The officer gagged, pointing at the coins spilling from the corpse's mouth.
"Then why fill his throat?"
Yohan turned, eyes hard.
"Because he spoke false words for gold. Now he'll choke on them for eternity."
The cops recoiled — not just from the Angel, but from the truth about the mayor's sins.
---
Later, at headquarters, Yohan lit a cigarette, the smoke coiling around his tired face.
The board gave him full authority to hunt.
He exhaled, eyes narrowing.
"The Devil is now hunting the Angel."