"Thank you for shopping. Have a great evening," the shop worker said with a polite bow as they reached the exit.
"Thanks, Leon," Emily replied, gently hugging his arm, a bright smile spreading across her face.
"Y–yeah, no problem," Leon answered, his face flushing as he scratched the back of his head, clearly flustered.
Behind them, two men followed in silence.
Each carried stacks of shopping bags and neatly packed boxes, their footsteps heavy and perfectly synchronized against the mall's polished floor.
Tap. Tap.
People nearby began to slow their steps.
Some whispered.
Some stared.
It wasn't the amount of bags that caught their attention.
It was the black uniforms.
The rigid posture.
And most of all—the rifles swaying slightly against their chests, secured by thick straps as they walked.
The faint clink of metal against metal echoed with every step.
Eyes followed them wherever they went.
The group passed through the sliding doors.
Whoosh—
Cool evening air—soon to be night—greeted them as neon lights reflected off the glass walls behind.
Waiting at the curb was a long white limousine, its polished surface gleaming beneath the streetlights.
Emily slowed her steps.
Leon didn't say anything, but he straightened slightly, trying to look calm—trying.
The two men moved ahead, opening the trunk and carefully storing the shopping bags inside.
Thump. Thump.
One by one, the items disappeared.
Leon opened the door for Emily. She slid inside and sat down. Leon followed shortly after.
Click.
The door closed.
The engine hummed to life—low, smooth—as the limousine slowly pulled away from the mall.
People nearby stopped completely now.
Some pointed.
Some whispered louder.
"Who is he…?"
"Is he some kind of celebrity?"
"No… that looks like power."
The white limousine vanished into traffic, leaving behind only murmurs—and awe.
Night settled in.
Streetlights flickered to life one by one, their pale glow slipping through the tinted windows.
Leon glanced to his side.
Emily's head tilted slightly as she nodded off, only to jolt awake moments later before drifting back again.
She looked exhausted.
Leon quietly picked up the built-in phone.
"Theodore," he whispered. "Is there a shorter route to Emily's home?"
A brief pause.
"Yes, there is," Theodore replied calmly. "However, we would need to pass through the market area. The road condition there is… less than ideal. The car may get dirty."
Leon frowned.
"Just do it."
"As you wish, Young Master."
The phone clicked softly as Leon placed it back.
The limousine turned.
Tall buildings gave way to narrow streets. Neon lights faded. The road grew uneven.
Several hours passed.
The night deepened.
They were nearing the market.
Leon shifted in his seat and looked out the window.
A rundown motel stood ahead, its cracked walls barely lit by a flickering streetlamp. The sign above buzzed weakly, one letter missing.
Bzzz—click.
Leon grimaced.
"What a disgusting-looking motel," he muttered. "Who in their right mind would live there?"
He turned toward Emily, noticing her eyes were still open.
Trying to lighten the mood, he pointed outside.
"Emily, look. What an ugly building."
Emily followed his gaze.
Leon smirked. "Hey, want to try living there for a week?"
"No, no thank yo—"
Emily stopped mid-sentence.
Her eyes lingered outside the window.
A boy was walking out of the motel.
Small build.
White hair.
Simple clothes.
For a brief moment, her chest tightened.
Have I… met him before?
Leon noticed her sudden silence.
"Emily? What's wrong?"
"Oh—nothing," she replied quickly, shaking her head. "It's nothing."
She leaned back, forcing a small smile.
Outside, the boy disappeared behind rows of closed stalls as the limousine rolled past.
The market lights blurred into streaks of color.
The car moved on.
Neither of them noticed how close their paths had come—
or how the night had already begun to close in.
***
Alright… it took longer than I thought, but I can finally go back to the tea shop and pay my bill.
Mael walked through the area once more, nose twitching slightly as he searched for the lingering scent. Finding nothing new, he returned to the motel and retrieved a few coins.
As he stepped back outside, the unease remained.
It's strange… the scent feels familiar, yet I still haven't found it.
I've checked all the usual places. Every route I always take.
He sighed softly.
"Whatever."
Mael headed toward the tea shop.
Then he noticed it.
The street was unusually quiet.
Too quiet.
No passing cars.
No distant chatter.
Not even footsteps echoing against the pavement.
Mael slowed.
"…That's odd."
He walked for several minutes beneath flickering streetlights, their glow forming uneven pools on the asphalt.
Still—no one.
Passing through the closed market stalls, he muttered, "Almost there now."
Then—
He stopped.
Sniff… sniff…
His eyes sharpened.
"…Wait."
The air felt wrong.
Cold.
Heavy.
Wrong.
I found it.
His heart pounded.
Without hesitation, Mael sprinted forward.
The tea shop came into view.
Its lights were the only ones still on, glowing weakly against the darkness.
Mael didn't slow.
Clink—
The bell rang sharply as he burst inside.
And then—
He saw it.
A creature sprawled across the floor.
Its body was twisted, limbs bent at impossible angles as it gnawed on something wooden.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Mael froze.
That was a chair.
The chair I sat on this evening.
Wood splintered beneath jagged teeth, shards scattering across the floor.
A wet, distorted voice oozed from its throat.
"Ummmm… tasty angel…"
Mael's blood ran cold.
Then it stopped.
Sniff… sniff…
Its head jerked upward.
"Angelllll…?"
It stood.
Dark red eyes snapped open and locked onto Mael.
Silence.
Without warning, one limb twisted grotesquely—bones cracking—as sharp metal blades erupted from flesh.
Mael's eyes widened.
"—!"
The creature swung.
Crash—BOOM!
The attack missed by inches, tearing through the wall and window behind him. Glass exploded outward as bricks collapsed.
The wind rushed in.
Mael skidded into the street, heart racing.
Too fast…!
The demon laughed, metal scraping against concrete.
"Hahah… found you…"
It—It's a demon…!
Mael steadied himself, eyes narrowing.
Not as strong as the one at the harbor.
Unstable… forced.
"What did you do to Eldon?!" he barked.
The demon groaned.
Mael clenched his fists.
I can eliminate it.
His playful expression vanished.
Then—
The demon lunged.
Bladed arm raised high.
"TOOOOO LOOOUUUDDDD!!!"
BOOM!
Smoke erupted, debris flying.
When it cleared—
Mael was gone.
"…?"
A hand pressed against the demon's back.
"I'll have to try it now," Mael whispered.
"Exorcised."
Ting—
The air rippled.
The demon reacted instantly.
Blades sliced through the air—
Mael dodged by a hair's breadth.
Too close.
"…Why isn't my ability working?!"
The demon growled.
Then—
Step. Step. Step.
Footsteps echoed from inside the shop.
Eldon emerged.
"Mael! Run, child!" he shouted, raising a hunting rifle.
Bang!
The demon recoiled.
"It's working…!" Eldon gasped.
Bang!
"I've already called the Saviors!" Eldon yelled. "They're coming!"
Bang!
The demon snarled and turned—
toward Eldon.
"ELDON! RUN!" Mael screamed.
The demon lunged into the shop.
"TOOOOO LOOOOOUUUUUDDDDD!!!"
Crunch.
Munch. Munch.
"ELDON!!!!!!"
The demon stepped back into the street.
Its maw clamped around Eldon's body—only his legs and one arm remained, still clutching the rifle.
It bit down once more.
Splat.
Limbs fell.
Blood painted the pavement.
The night went silent.
Blood splattered across the pavement.
The sound echoed once—
Drip.
Then again.
Drip.
Mael stood frozen.
His breath refused to come.
His legs wouldn't move.
The demon's massive shadow loomed under the streetlight, but Mael no longer saw it.
All he could see was the broken rifle lying on the ground.
The severed hand is still gripping it.
"…Eldon…"
His voice came out small.
Thin.
Unfitting for an archangel.
The demon chewed lazily, as if savoring its meal, wet sounds filling the empty street.
Crunch.
Munch.
Mael's fists trembled.
Not with rage.
With helplessness.
I was right here.
I could've—
His vision blurred.
Hot liquid welled in his eyes, spilling down his cheeks before he could stop it.
"…I told you I'd come back," he whispered.
"I promised…"
The night air felt suffocating.
Heavy.
Each breath scraped his lungs.
His chest burned—not from injury, but from something far worse.
Regret.
The demon finally looked at him again, red eyes gleaming with twisted amusement.
But Mael didn't move.
Didn't raise his guard.
Didn't call his power.
For the first time since his fall—
He felt truly small.
Powerless.
A child standing in a pool of blood that should never have been spilled.
"…I'm sorry," Mael said, voice shaking.
The streetlight above flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then the light steadied.
But something inside Mael didn't.
That night—
Something precious was taken from him.
And something else was born.
Not strength.
Not resolve.
But a deep, silent despair—
One that would cling to him long after the blood dried.