Wandering Witch: Penance of a thief

Education without values, as useful as it is, seems rather to make man a more clever devil.

As I strolled through the quiet streets, the crisp morning air filled my lungs, a refreshing start to the day.

It was a moment of serenity until a voice sliced through the stillness, calling my name.

"Arche, is it?"

The way he spoke my name, casual yet knowing, startled me.

Could my reputation have grown that much already?

"Yeah... Who's asking?"

The man stepped forward, his face still obscured by his attire.

"I'm Benedict, a member of the Lunar Ascendance organization."

That name struck me like a cold wave. The Lunar Ascendance... I had hoped to never hear it again.

Before I could think, my instincts took over. I lunged at him, aiming to land a punch, but he slipped out of reach effortlessly, leaving my fist to collide with the brick wall behind him.

The wall cracked under the force.

"You're as strong as the rumors say," he mused, seemingly unfazed.

"Impressive. Zero Four."

My blood boiled at that. "Don't call me that, you bastard!" I spat, my voice echoing in the narrow space.

He didn't flinch. His dark clothing and hat made him look almost like a shadow.

"What does the organization want from me this time?"

He raised his hands slightly, as though trying to calm a raging storm.

"Relax, Zero Four. I'm not here to force you into anything. I just need your help."

I narrowed my eyes. "Help you? I'm done with that organization. You should know that by now."

He sighed, leaning casually against the alley wall.

"So you're going to refuse outright, huh? Typical. But hear me out, Zero Four." He paused, his eyes meeting mine with a strange intensity.

"If you agree to help me, I'll give you information. Valuable information.

About the organization-about what you've been looking for."

That made me freeze. Information? From them? That's not something they would give out willingly.

"Why would you offer that?" I asked cautiously, suspicion creeping into my voice. "Are you... a traitor?"

A low chuckle escaped him.

"Consider me one for the day, if it helps you sleep better tonight." He tilted his head back, gazing at the dim sky above us.

I wasn't buying it. "So, what exactly is it you want?" My voice was sharp, cutting through his nonchalance.

Benedict sighed again, as if this conversation was a burden.

"You're difficult, aren't you? But fine, I'll tell you." He stood up straight, his tone shifting slightly, more serious.

"In this city, there's a family-an ordinary family, or at least that's what everyone believes. But their daughter... she's being abused. Violently."

My chest tightened. I hadn't expected him to say that. "And where did you get this information?" I demanded.

He glanced at me, then away, as though the memory was distasteful.

"I've kept an eye on them. I've heard her screams." His voice was low, but it carried the weight of what he had witnessed.

For a moment, I was silent, processing this new reality. Abuse? In this city? And the organization knew?

"You want me to investigate them, don't you?" I asked, my voice cold as I shot him a hard look.

Benedict smiled, though it was more of a grimace. "Smart as ever, Zero Four. Though I'm sorry if I've offended you. I should have said 'genius,' right?"

"But there's one thing I'm curious about: what does the organization have to do with this?" I inquired, leaning against the wall to face him.

"This doesn't seem like an issue they should be involved in, right?"

"True, it has nothing to do with the organization, but it has everything to do with me," Benedict replied, his expression shifting, hinting at a deeper story.

I raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by his revelation. "What do you mean?"

"I've experienced something similar," he confessed, his tone surprisingly candid.

"Is that all?" I couldn't help but scoff. Was he asking for my help solely based on shared experiences?

"You're looking for death, aren't you?"

"Hah... I've ceased to care about death," he said, revealing a cross necklace that hung around his neck.

"I've committed a grave sin by joining that organization."

"A priest, huh?" The realization hit me, surprising me.

I studied him, trying to reconcile his appearance with his role. "But how can I trust that you'll keep your promise?"

Benedict clutched the cross tightly, his gaze unwavering as he turned to me.

"In the name of God... I promise I won't break my word."

"If I didn't know better, I wouldn't believe you're a priest," I replied, taking a deep breath and scratching the back of my head in contemplation.

"Fine. I'll help you."

"Give me their personal information."

Benedict produced three sheets of paper, each detailing the lives of those involved.

"Gareth, Celine, and Flavia, huh?" I read through the biodata, absorbing every detail.

"If you need to find me, I'll be at the church." He concealed his cross necklace once more, a subtle hint of urgency in his demeanor.

"See you again, talented boy," he said before disappearing into the shadows of the alley, leaving me to ponder my next move.

Alone, I focused on the papers in my hands, recalling the information I'd just read.

Each name felt like a thread woven into a larger tapestry of secrets and struggles.

I stepped out of the alley, the world beyond the shadows beckoning.

"Alright... let's do this,"

I muttered to myself.

As I unfolded the small piece of paper, I realized they were looking for a babysitter.

Without hesitation, I made my way to their house, determined to take the job.

When I knocked on the door, it opened to reveal Celine, the mother. Her expression was cautious, yet polite.

"Um... can I help you with something?"

"My name is Arche and I saw that you're looking for a babysitter, and I'd like to apply for the position." Her face lit up instantly.

"Oh, that's wonderful! Please, come in! You seem perfect for this job."

She stepped aside to let me in, and I followed. Her home was modest, simple yet welcoming.

She seemed kind enough, though I reminded myself not to let appearances cloud my judgment.

"Nice house," I remarked, trying to maintain an air of casualness.

"Thank you! Oh, wait just a moment. Please, make yourself comfortable." She excused herself and headed upstairs.

I sat down on one of the sofas, taking in my surroundings. The house seemed ordinary-no signs of anything amiss.

But something in the atmosphere felt... off. I couldn't place it.

Suddenly, a small girl with orange hair shuffled out from one of the rooms, her steps hesitant and awkward. "W-Welcome..." she stammered. This was Flavia.

Before I could respond, Celine descended the stairs. "Where is he?" she muttered to herself, glancing around.

"Flavia, have you seen your father?" Celine asked, her tone casual. Flavia's body tensed, her eyes wide as if the simple question startled her. She shook her head, clearly nervous.

From the kitchen, a man emerged-a middle-aged figure who I assumed to be Gareth. He approached us, his smile stiff and awkward.

"Here I am."

"Oh dear, where were you?" Celine asked, her voice light yet with a hint of something unspoken behind it.

"Sorry," Gareth mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

The three of them sat across from me, a small family with an unspoken tension hanging in the air.

Celine cleared her throat, breaking the silence.

"He's here to interview for the nanny position. His name is Arche."

I smiled politely. "Nice to meet you all."

Introductions followed, though they were unnecessary. I already knew far more about them than they realized, thanks to the biodata Benedict had provided me.

But I listened, playing the part of the stranger.

"We actually need to step out for a while, but Flavia doesn't like going with us."

"That's why we're looking for a nanny-we're just a bit worried about leaving her alone," Celine explained, her tone warm, not that of a negligent mother.

Her words were sincere, but something gnawed at me. "So, can you tell us about your skills?" Celine asked, breaking my thoughts.

"I'm a good cook, and I have lots of creative ideas for fun games," I replied smoothly.

Gareth sat silently, his eyes distant. He didn't ask a single question.

Why wasn't he more concerned about a stranger being around his daughter? His indifference was puzzling.

Celine, on the other hand, was eager to talk. "Flavia's a bit shy and awkward... She's, um... how old are you now, sweetie?"

"Eight," Flavia muttered quietly, glancing down.

"She loves to draw, and, uh, her favorite food is vegetables," Celine continued, stumbling through her description of her own daughter, as though unsure of the details.

I found it odd-a mother, confused about the basic likes and habits of her own child? Why? It wasn't blatant neglect, but the uncertainty in her voice raised a red flag.

What kind of family was this?

After a brief conversation, Celine and Gareth excused themselves, heading upstairs, leaving Flavia and me alone in the living room.

I glanced over at her, noticing how she avoided my gaze, her small frame tense as if she was bracing for something.

"So, Flavia," I said, my tone filled with warmth that was almost fake, "what do you like the most about your home?"

She shrugged her small shoulders, a bit hesitant to respond.

"Nothing special... maybe the dolls," she whispered softly, almost as if afraid to speak.

"Oh, dolls, huh?" I gave a thin smile, my eyes sharp even as my lips remained friendly.

"Dolls are nice, aren't they? They don't get mad when you make a little mistake."

Flavia nodded, still without a word.

Her big eyes seemed hollow, as if she was trying hard not to draw too much attention.

She stared down, as if wanting to escape the conversation she clearly didn't want to have.

I pressed further, slowly. "Sometimes," I continued lightly, "when I was younger, people used to get mad at me when I did something wrong."

"But dolls? They just sit there, staring back, never saying anything, never getting mad. They're always good, aren't they?"

She bit her lower lip, a sign of the growing unease inside her.

"Yeah... they don't get mad," she muttered.

I nodded as if I were thinking deeply, carefully keeping my distance while pretending to casually draw closer to the heart of the issue.

"But... at home, is there someone who does get mad? Someone who makes things... uncomfortable?"

For a moment, Flavia looked startled. Her eyes blinked rapidly, as if realizing the subtle trap in my words.

But I knew she couldn't stop now. Silence hung between us for a second before she admitted, her voice barely a whisper, "Yeah... Papa... he gets mad sometimes."

Ah, there it is. Slowly, I leaned in, not to intimidate, but to give the impression that I understood her fear.

"Papa gets mad a lot?" I asked with a deliberate softness, like someone who genuinely wanted to know without pressing too hard.

"What usually makes Papa mad?"

Flavia clutched the hem of her worn shirt, her tiny fingers twisting the old fabric. "When I... when I make mistakes. Or... when there's a problem at home."

I nodded slowly, though something tight twisted in my chest.

"That must be tough, huh? Always feeling like you have to be careful," I said, as if sharing an unspoken understanding.

"It must make you scared sometimes."

She was silent for a long while, clearly wrestling with her own feelings, before finally nodding slightly.

"Yeah... sometimes he yells... and..." Her voice trailed off, and suddenly, her eyes widened. She realized just how much she had let slip.

Panic started to creep into her previously shy face, now turning into one of confusion and worry.

That was enough. Time to back off before she completely shut down.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," I said, lowering my voice as if I were merely curious and nothing more.

"I just wondered because, well... I used to get yelled at too, always told I had to be perfect... by my old teacher. It wasn't a good feeling."

The teacher I meant wasn't Rufina, but someone else. Someone who insisted I call them 'teacher'.

Sure, they taught me a lot, I guess. But in truth... I hated that old teacher of mine.

Moments later, Celine and Gareth descended the stairs, each carrying bags.

My attention was immediately drawn to Celine's bag, adorned with striking gold stripes.

It seemed far too luxurious for a quick errand, but I held my tongue.

"Alright, we have to get going," Gareth said, his tone hurried as if eager to leave.

Celine gave me a soft, almost pleading smile. "Arche, please take good care of Flavia while we're gone, okay?"

"Of course! Don't worry, she'll be safe with me," I replied confidently, my voice steady.

They exchanged a few more pleasantries before stepping out the door, leaving me alone with Flavia.

As the front door clicked shut, I turned to the small, timid figure standing a few feet away.

Her orange hair framed her face, eyes still averted.

"So, are you hungry?" I asked, trying to break the ice.

Flavia hesitated for a moment, then nodded slightly. "Oh... um, yeah."

I smiled warmly and made my way into the kitchen, scanning the cupboards for anything I could use.

A variety of ingredients caught my eye, and I quickly settled on something simple.

"How about some spaghetti?" I suggested, looking back at her.

Her head bobbed in a small nod, and I got to work.

I then prepared the ingredients, I planned to make Spaghetti cooked with olive oil, garlic, and chili, simple but full of flavor.

When Flavia finally entered the kitchen, her eyes lit up when she saw the plate that was served.

"...What's that?" she asked in a curious voice.

"This is spaghetti that I made especially for you!" I am positive

With hesitant steps, she approached and sat at the table.

As she took her first bite, her expression changed.

A smile crept onto her face, though she seemed a bit shy, and I could see her beginning to enjoy every bite.

"It's delicious!" she exclaimed, her face glowing with simple happiness, we sat together, enjoying the spaghetti.

After we finished eating, I noticed Flavia rubbing her eyes, clearly fighting off sleep.

"How about you take a nap?" I suggested gently.

"Mhm..." she murmured, nodding. I guided her upstairs to her room, watching as she climbed into bed and pulled the blanket over herself.

Within moments, she was sound asleep, her small figure barely making an imprint on the bed.

I stood at the doorway for a while, quietly observing.

"She probably hasn't had such a peaceful rest after a good meal in a long time, huh?" I whispered to myself before softly closing the door.

Descending the stairs, I made my way to the living room and sank into the sofa, my mind swirling with thoughts about the strange atmosphere in this house.

There was something unsettling I couldn't quite put my finger on.

A sudden urge to use the bathroom broke my thoughts, and I stood up, scanning the house for where it might be.

I approached one of the doors and opened it-just a bathroom.

But then I paused, my mind recalling earlier events.

Flavia had emerged from this room when I first saw her, hadn't she?

Curiosity piqued, I stepped inside and noticed another door leading to the kitchen.

"..."

That's right-Gareth had come out of the kitchen when I first saw him too.

I stared at the bathroom door, piecing the puzzle together.

Flavia's strange gait earlier... Gareth's odd appearance...

I felt the realization settling in like a heavy weight.

"Wait a minute..." My voice was barely a whisper as it all clicked. "I see now."

The signs were there all along. Violence. Flavia... she must have experienced it.

After finishing my business in the bathroom, I returned to the living room, my thoughts now swirling even more intensely.

"So... it's true," I muttered to myself. "Flavia really has been through something awful."

I took a deep breath, but it felt shallow, unsatisfying. "What now...?" I needed answers.

Feeling restless, I wandered around the house, eventually making my way upstairs again.

This time, I stopped in front of a door that was located a bit farther from Flavia's room.

Something about it seemed significant. I tried the handle-locked.

"Sorry if this is rude," I murmured, pulling out a hairpin and deftly unlocking the door.

It clicked open, and I slowly stepped inside.

Two beds greeted me. Separate. One for Celine, one for Gareth.

I stood there, staring at the beds, the reality of their arrangement sinking in.

"Why would a husband and wife sleep in different beds?" I thought, the answer coming to me almost immediately.

"They don't get along, huh?"

I sighed, a wave of sympathy washing over me, not just for Flavia but for the whole fractured family.

"I hope my life after marriage never turns out like this..."

But then, a nagging thought crept in, one I couldn't shake.

A premonition, almost. "Somehow, I feel like I'm destined to become a henpecked husband."

I chuckled worriedly, the sound barely filling the empty room.

"I'm already worried about my future..."

As I was about to leave the room, something on the table caught my eye.

Curious, I walked over to take a closer look. To my surprise, it was a whip.

"Eh...?"

I stood there, frozen, unsure of how to react. What kind of expression was I even supposed to have in a situation like this?

"Is Gareth a masochist...?" The thought crossed my mind. I knew the guy had some questionable traits, but this?

With a shake of my head, I quickly closed the door, pretending I hadn't seen anything.

But just as I turned, a voice startled me from behind.

"Mr. Arche...?"

"AH?!" I jumped, spinning around to see Flavia standing there, rubbing her eyes sleepily. "Oh, phew... so it's just you, Flavia."

"You scared me for a second there," I said with a relieved sigh, trying to calm my racing heart.

Flavia blinked at me with her usual quiet expression. "What are you doing, Mr. Arche?"

"Uh..." I scrambled for an excuse, feeling a bit sheepish. "I... got lost." I shot her a playful grin, hoping to deflect.

"Oh, I see," she replied, her tone completely serious as if it made perfect sense for me to get lost in their own home.

Wanting to steer the conversation away from anything... awkward, I quickly changed the topic.

"By the way, you only napped for a short time, huh?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"Hm... I'm used to it," Flavia said quietly.

That answer caught me off guard. "Used to it?" I repeated, the surprise evident in my voice.

Her small nod tugged at something in my chest. This girl... what kind of life had she been living?

"Flavia," I said softly, crouching down to her level. "Want to talk for a moment? I'll make us some tea."

She gave a hesitant nod, and we headed downstairs. I busied myself in the kitchen, preparing tea for the both of us.

The moment felt right to dig deeper, to peel back more layers of her guarded little world.

"Hey, Flavia," I said, softening my tone as I approached her.

I wanted to come off as reassuring, like a friend genuinely concerned.

"I just wanted to check in on you after our talk earlier. Sometimes, chatting can help us feel better, right?"

She glanced up at me, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.

"Yeah... I'm okay," she replied quietly.

"Good to hear," I smiled gently.

"You know, sleep is really important. I used to get told by my parents to sleep early too. They said it's so I can rest and stay healthy."

Flavia nodded slightly, her curiosity piqued. "But... I'm told not to sleep too long," she murmured, almost hesitantly. "I have to help my parents."

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow, keen to uncover more.

"Help with what? That sounds interesting!"

She hesitated, her brow furrowing as she considered her response.

"If there's something that needs cleaning... or if they need help with chores."

There was a hint of reluctance in her tone, as if she were weighing the consequences of her words.

"Hmm... so you don't really get much time for yourself?" I pressed, my voice carefully modulated to coax her further.

"Like, playing or just relaxing without any worries?"

Flavia shook her head slightly, her eyes dimming. "Not really... sometimes when I sleep, Papa says I need to wake up early. He says, 'No time for slacking off.'"

"Oh, I see..." I nodded slowly, absorbing the weight of her words.

"So it sounds like that makes you feel... uncomfortable at home, right? Sometimes, parents can be a bit too tough,"

I suggested, weaving a thread of sympathy into my tone.

"Is there anything else that makes you feel unhappy at home?"

She bit her lower lip, hesitating, but the words tumbled out before she could stop them.

"I've been... whipped before," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

I froze for a moment. Anger surged within me, a hot tide that was hard to control.

"Whipped? By your father?" My voice raised slightly, unable to mask my frustration.

"That's not right, Flavia. No one should treat you like that."

Her big eyes widened, a mix of fear and confusion swirling in them as if she were searching for validation.

"Yeah... he said it was to make me remember..."

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to steady my voice.

"You know, Flavia," I said, the softness returning, "What's happening to you isn't right."

"You deserve to be treated better by anyone, especially by your parents."

She looked down, her small frame seemingly weighed down by the gravity of our conversation.

I looked at Flavia, and a wave of guilt washed over my heart.

It felt as if I had exploited her honesty and vulnerability just to satisfy my curiosity.

How unfair it was to use this little girl to gather information.

Her innocent, helpless expression reminded me of the difficult times I had once faced.

"Flavia," I said softly, trying to change the tone of our conversation.

"I want to apologize. Earlier, I think I was just trying to find out more about you without considering your feelings. That wasn't fair."

She lifted her head, looking confused by my sudden change of demeanor.

"It's okay," she replied quietly.

I took a deep breath before continuing. "You know, when I was a kid, I was often pushed to be perfect by my teacher."

"It felt like I had to try so hard and couldn't make any mistakes. It made it hard for me to express who I really was."

Flavia looked at me with curiosity, as if she were trying to understand what I was saying. "So, you felt pressured too?" she asked.

"Yeah," I nodded, trying to convey sincerity. "Sometimes I felt trapped, like everyone had these high expectations of me."

"I wanted to be myself, but all that pressure made it really tough."

She looked down, contemplating my words. "But you can be yourself now, right?"

"Yes," I replied, hoping to reassure both her and myself.

"But I understand how it feels to be unable to do what you want. We actually have a lot in common, Flavia."

Her eyes widened slightly, indicating that she was beginning to grasp the connection.

"We have something in common?" she asked softly.

"Yeah," I continued, "We both face pressures from the people around us. But you need to remember that you're not alone."

"We can find ways to express ourselves, even in tough situations."

I watched as Flavia began to ponder this, as if gathering her courage.

"So, I can be myself too?" she asked, a glimmer of hope starting to shine in her eyes.

"Of course," I affirmed firmly.

"You deserve the freedom to be yourself, Flavia. No one can take that away from you."

With that, I hoped she felt a little relief from the burdens she had been carrying.

Flavia stayed silent for a moment after her last confession, clutching her worn-out dress in her small hands.

The silence between us stretched until she finally broke it, her voice a soft whisper, almost like she was afraid it would be too loud.

"I... I feel better talking to you,"

she murmured, still staring at the floor.

"I've never been able to tell anyone this before... no one ever listens."

Her words hit me harder than I expected.

This small, fragile girl had been forced to keep everything locked up inside her, with no one to turn to. Until now.

I looked at her with a new resolve, my usual playful demeanor replaced by something more serious.

Slowly, I reached out and took her hand, giving it a gentle but firm squeeze.

"Flavia, you're not alone anymore,"

I said, my voice steady and sure.

"I'll make sure you won't have to go through this on your own."

She lifted her head, eyes wide and startled, like she didn't believe what she was hearing.

"Really?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Can you... really help me?"

I nodded, letting a small but confident smile form on my lips. "I promise, Flavia. I'm going to get you out of this."

"You're not going to stay trapped in this nightmare forever. Trust me."

There was a flicker in her eyes, a glimmer of hope, though faint.

She looked at me like I was the first person to ever offer her a way out.

And that pissed me off even more-how no one had stepped up until now.

"I'm serious," I added, my tone lower, more intense. "You're not going to be stuck like this anymore. I'll make sure of it. I swear."

Her expression shifted slightly, that glimmer of hope slowly growing.

She didn't need to say anything; her eyes told me everything I needed to know.

I leaned back slightly, still holding her gaze. "You've been through enough," I said, my voice soft but full of promise.

"And I don't make promises I don't keep. So yeah, I'll get you out of this mess."

And I meant every word.

Flavia and I continued chatting more casually. At some point, I cracked a joke, and to my surprise, she laughed.

"Hm?!"

"You... are a funny person," Flavia said, her eyes lighting up for a moment.

"Yes! Some people call me the 'Emerald Clown.' Though, I'm not exactly proud of that nickname." I let out an exaggerated sigh to close the joke.

"Someone...?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Yeah, she's the girl I like. Even though her hair looks like a 70-year-old grandmother's, she's still beautiful, you know." I said with a smirk.

Flavia giggled again, and we continued talking. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

I stood up, heading over to open it. Standing there were Celine and Gareth, both back from their trip.

"Ah, you're back."

"Hello! Is Flavia being a good girl?" Celine asked, her smile warm but a little too rehearsed.

"Of course. She's a good kid," I replied, throwing a glance at Gareth, who remained silent as usual.

"Hm? What?" Gareth raised an eyebrow, noticing my look.

"Nothing, nothing. You two must be tired, right?" I quickly diverted. "Want me to make you some tea?"

"Ah, no need! See you tomorrow!" Celine quickly dismissed the offer with a wave, already halfway shooing me out the door.

I stepped out, feeling Gareth's sharp gaze burning into my back. As soon as I was outside, the door clicked shut.

"I'm being kicked out..." I muttered to myself, feeling a bit deflated. "There goes my plan to poison them."

I wandered over to a nearby park and sat on a bench, taking in a long, deep breath.

Just as I started to collect my thoughts, a man dressed in a priest's attire sat beside me.

Without a word, he handed me a newspaper.

We both opened it, a practiced move to conceal our conversation from prying eyes.

"Father Benedict, you're quick as always," I said, glancing at him.

"I always arrive on time, Zero Four." He used that old nickname again, the one that still made me wince a little.

"Can you stop calling me that?" I grumbled, rolling my eyes.

"I also don't particularly enjoy being referred to as a member of the Lunar Ascendance organization," Benedict said with a sly grin.

"Yeah, that's too much of a mouthful." I sighed deeply, then launched into an explanation of everything that had happened.

As I finished recounting the events, Benedict gave a slow, understanding nod. "So that's how it is..."

"I'll come to you if I find something," Father Benedict said, his tone low and cryptic.

"Something?" I raised an eyebrow, wondering what exactly he was referring to.

"I have more suspicions about that family... Celine and Gareth. They seem very suspicious."

He elaborated, suggesting there was still much more to uncover about them.

"Alright, I'll keep that in mind." I closed the newspaper, stood up, and handed it back to him. "See you later, Benedict."

"Yeah, see you, Arche." He gave me a nod.

I went back to my hotel to rest for a bit, and when evening came, I headed out to grab some dinner.

After finishing my meal, something-or rather someone-caught my eye.

"Celine...?"

Even from behind, I recognized her instantly. I followed her, curious about where she was heading.

She slipped into a large bar, and I hesitated for a moment before deciding to follow.

Inside, the atmosphere was buzzing with music and people having a good time.

I found a seat and ordered a glass of wine. As I took a sip, something unexpected happened.

A stripper made her way onto the stage.

What shocked me wasn't just the stripper herself-but the fact that it was Celine.

"So, Celine is a stripper, huh?" I muttered to myself, watching in disbelief.

She moved with the kind of grace that came from experience, her confidence on the pole undeniable.

This was clearly something she had done many times before.

Despite her role as a mother, she seemed to enjoy every moment of it.

As she performed, our eyes met briefly. Her surprise was evident, but I quickly averted my gaze, pretending not to notice.

Once I finished my wine, I left the bar, my mind spinning.

"So she's a whore, huh?" I mused aloud as I walked back toward my place.

Just as I was turning a corner, I heard someone calling my name. Without looking back, I already knew who it was.

I turned around to see Celine, now wearing a jacket over her provocative outfit.

Her face was serious, devoid of the seductive charm she had displayed earlier.

"You saw it, didn't you?" she asked, her voice cold and firm.

I nodded, standing my ground.

Without warning, she approached me, backing me against the alley wall, her face inches from mine.

"Don't tell anyone, or you'll suffer the consequences," she hissed, her tone threatening.

I smirked, remaining calm.

"I won't tell anyone."

Her expression softened slightly, but then I added, "On one condition."

Her eyes widened in shock, and her face quickly turned to frustration.

"Okay... free service, as long as you want," she said, her voice dripping with annoyance.

She slipped off her jacket, revealing her striptease outfit beneath. "You want to do it here?"

She tried to seduce me, running her hands over her body, but I pushed her back.

"Huh? Hey, bitch, I don't want that from you." I rolled my eyes. "I want information."

Celine staggered back, her face filled with shock at being rejected so abruptly.

"What information do you want?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Without hesitation, I stepped forward, pinning her against the alley wall, my hand gripping her wrist tightly.

"Did you know that Gareth was abusive to Flavia?" I demanded, my voice low but edged with fury.

Her eyes widened, the surprise on her face quickly shifting to something more guarded. She avoided my gaze, her expression tense.

"How... how did you find out?" she stammered, her voice barely audible.

"You knew all along and did nothing to stop it?" I growled, my grip tightening as anger flared within me.

"You really are a dirty whore."

Her body flinched at my words, and pain crossed her features as my hand clenched harder around her wrist.

"A-Ack-! Please, stop it! Let me go!" she pleaded, her voice now laced with desperation. She was frightened, but not broken. Not yet.

"I... I can explain!"

"Explain now," I hissed, my eyes locking onto hers, "or I'll break your bones."

Fear flashed in her eyes, the fear of someone who has never felt true violence but knew it was coming.

Her lips trembled as she struggled to speak, her voice weak and uneven. "Please... don't break my bones... I'll talk..."

"Then talk." My patience was wearing thin.

She swallowed hard, her words spilling out in fragments. "H-He... Gareth... he hit her. He shouted at her, whipped her... I saw it all. He abused her..."

I felt my blood boil at her confession. "And you just stood by and watched?!" My voice erupted, my anger consuming me. "You did nothing?!"

"I'm sorry!" she cried, her voice cracking under the weight of her own guilt.

"I... I hate Flavia. Because of her... her birth... I had to work harder. To support everything. I couldn't... I couldn't stand it anymore."

Her words only fueled my rage. I slapped her hard across the face, the sharp sound echoing through the alley.

Her head jerked to the side, the force of the blow leaving a bright red mark on her cheek.

I could see the shock in her eyes, but it wasn't enough to erase the disgust I felt toward her.

"You're not fit to be called a mother," I spat, my voice low with contempt.

Celine stood there, stunned and silent, the weight of my words sinking in.

Her face, flushed red from the slap, showed no resistance.

Deep down, she knew I was right. She wasn't worthy of that title.

I turned my back on her, leaving her in the alley as I walked away, my mind still burning with anger.

I passed by Flavia's house on my way, and a sinking feeling crept into my chest.

If Celine was outside, that meant Gareth was alone with Flavia.

A sudden noise from the house caught my attention, something unmistakable-a muffled scream.

I didn't hesitate. Climbing up to the roof, I crouched low, listening closely.

What I heard made my blood run cold.

The sound of a girl crying, screaming in terror. There was only one girl in that house, and only one man who could be with her.

I peered through the window, my heart pounding with rage.

Inside, Gareth was hovering over Flavia, forcing himself on her. The sight ignited something dark within me.

"Bastard," I whispered through gritted teeth.

Without a second thought, I grabbed a stone from the rooftop and hurled it through the window, the glass shattering with a sharp crack.

Gareth jerked his head toward the sound, momentarily distracted.

Before he could react, I hurled another stone, this time hitting him squarely in the head.

He staggered, his focus shifting from Flavia to the window.

Seizing the moment, I slipped into the room from another side, my movements swift and silent.

Before he could realize what was happening, I struck a nerve point on his neck, rendering him unconscious instantly.

The room fell silent.

I turned to Flavia. Her eyes were wide with terror, tears streaming down her pale cheeks.

She looked at me, her voice trembling as she whispered, "Arche..."

She ran to me, wrapping her small arms around my waist, her body shaking with fear. "I'm scared... so scared..."

I hugged her tightly, gently stroking her head as she sobbed into my chest.

"You're safe now," I whispered, my voice softening as I held her close.

"No one will hurt you again, I promise."

For a moment, we stayed like that, the only sound in the room her quiet sobs as she clung to me for comfort.

She cried, releasing all the fear, sadness, and pain she had been holding in for so long.

Her small body trembled against mine, and I just held her, not saying a word, just being there for her.

I could feel her grief pouring out, and I knew all I could do was stay by her side to calm her down.

"It's okay," I whispered softly, stroking her hair. "You're safe now."

We sat there for what felt like an eternity until her sobs slowly quieted.

Once her tears subsided, I gently pulled away, wiping her cheeks with the sleeve of my coat.

Her face was still pale, but she looked calmer now, though the exhaustion in her eyes was clear.

"Rest here for a moment," I said softly.

I stood up and turned my attention to Gareth, who was still lying unconscious on the floor.

My hands clenched into fists, but I held back the urge to do more than I already had.

He wasn't worth it. I grabbed him by the collar and dragged his limp body into the living room, tossing him onto the sofa like the garbage he was.

After making sure he wouldn't wake up anytime soon, I returned to Flavia.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, sitting beside her.

Flavia sat on the bed, her small frame sinking into the worn fabric, while her wide, orange eyes stared blankly, as if the weight of a life far too heavy for her fragile shoulders had crushed her spirit.

She looked down, avoiding my gaze, and I just waited-not pushing, giving her the space to breathe amidst her overwhelming silence.

I could feel the storm brewing beneath her stillness. And finally, after what felt like an eternity, her small voice broke through, barely a whisper, yet filled with a pain she had buried deep.

"They... they say I'm a burden." Her voice was hoarse and trembling, as if the very words weighed her down.

"Mama... she always yells at me, says I'm useless. I... I try to help, but... I just make everything worse."

I remained quiet, only nodding slowly. Inside me, anger began to rise, heating my blood.

But outwardly, I stayed calm. This wasn't about me. It was about Flavia.

"They hit me... a lot," she continued, her voice so small. "Every time I make a mistake, or... even when I don't."

There was a pause, as if she needed to gather the strength to continue.

The air in the room grew heavier, and finally, with a trembling breath, she went on,

"Papa... he touches me. In the wrong way. I don't know what to do. I can't get away..."

Her small hands trembled, gripping her clothes tightly, as if that was the only thing anchoring her in the storm that was tearing her apart.

"Mama knows," her voice grew even quieter, almost lost amidst the sobs she tried to hold back.

"She always knows. But she never cares. She just says I'm a burden. That if I wasn't here... maybe their lives would be better."

That last sentence struck me deep, sharper than any blade, like it hit an old wound that had never truly healed.

Her words brought back a memory-one I'd rather forget.

In my mind, I could hear my own mother's cold voice echoing, etched forever in my memory: "I wish I never gave birth to you."

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. Flavia had no idea how much her words had torn through me.

But this wasn't the time for my anger. She needed someone strong, someone who wouldn't be swept up in emotions.

"Flavia..." I spoke softly, my voice steady though my heart ached. "I hear you. You're not alone. I'm here for you."

Her shoulders began to shake, and the tears she'd been holding back for so long finally broke free.

Her sobs were quiet, but they were filled with all the pain she had been forced to carry.

I reached out and took her hand, squeezing it firmly, offering her whatever warmth I could.

"They're wrong. You're not a burden, Flavia. You're precious, more than you realize. And all of this... it will end. I promise."

Her hand still trembled in mine, but I didn't let go. She cried silently, her small body shaking.

After Flavia finally calmed down, I urged her to sleep and try to forget everything that had happened.

She nodded, exhausted, and lay down on her bed. Watching over her for a few moments, I made sure she was deep in slumber before slipping out through the window.

The cool night air hit my face as I walked back towards my hotel, but my thoughts were far from the present.

Memories of my mother began flooding back, unrelenting and haunting.

We can't meet again, Mother... The words echoed in my mind as I clenched my fists, fighting the wave of emotions.

By the time I reached the hotel, Benedict was already there, waiting under a dim streetlamp.

His presence caught me off guard; we hadn't made any plans to meet again that night.

"Waiting long?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Huh. Quite a while," he replied, his voice low and calm, as usual.

I let out a breath. "So, what now? What else do you want from me?"

He gave a slight nod. "I forgot to tell you earlier." His expression darkened, and I could sense there was more to the situation.

"Before we met in the park, I saw something."

I crossed my arms. "What did you see?"

"Celine and Gareth. They came out of a hidden place... under an abandoned building," Benedict said, his tone serious.

Intrigued, I frowned. "Let's check it out."

Together, we made our way to the building he described. The place was desolate, crumbling from years of neglect.

When we arrived, I spotted a large, strangely shaped rock near the foundation.

It looked out of place. I bent down and moved the stone, revealing a hidden door underneath.

"These people really lack creativity," I muttered under my breath. This was the third time I'd seen such a setup.

Benedict pulled out a hairpin and quickly picked the lock.

The door creaked open, and we were greeted by a dark, winding spiral staircase leading down into the depths.

I sighed. "Great. I hate spiral staircases."

The descent felt like it lasted forever, but at last, we reached the bottom, where a thick wooden door awaited.

Pushing it open, we stepped into a room that made my skin crawl.

Blood and red paint covered the walls, forming grotesque symbols and markings I couldn't understand.

Benedict stood still, staring at the sinister signs. His face had lost its usual composure.

"Is this...?" I trailed off, following his gaze.

I looked down and froze. There, in the center of the room, was an altar-a makeshift one, but unmistakably dark in its purpose.

"It's a pact altar," Benedict said in a grave tone. "For making a deal with the devil."

My blood ran cold. "They made a pact with the devil...?"

I couldn't wrap my head around the depths of Celine and Gareth's depravity.

"Wait, if they made a pact, then there's a price, right? What's the cost?"

Benedict's eyes flickered with worry as he picked up an old, tattered book from the ground.

He flipped through the pages, his face growing more serious with each sentence. "The devil... wants a human body as a vessel."

My heart skipped a beat. A vessel? There was only one person that came to mind.

"Flavia," I whispered, panic rising. I turned to rush back, but Benedict grabbed my arm, holding me in place.

"What the hell are you doing, Benedict?! Flavia is in danger!" I snapped, struggling against him.

"Not tonight," he said, his voice steady but firm. "She's safe for now. But tomorrow, she won't be." His eyes locked with mine, filled with certainty.

"How can you be so sure?" I demanded.

Benedict tapped the book.

"It's all in here. They made a pact for wealth, but the devil's price is her body."

I felt a pit of dread forming in my stomach.

"Let's get out of here," Benedict said, sensing the urgency in my voice.

We left the accursed place behind, our minds heavy with what we'd discovered.

Once we were outside, we quickly formulated a plan.

We'd confront them tomorrow, but tonight, Flavia would be safe.

We agreed to split up, and I returned to my hotel, my mind racing.

"Damn it," I muttered under my breath, running a hand through my hair.

The next morning came too soon. The weight of the situation pressed down on me as I made my way to Flavia's house. I had to act fast.

I knocked on the door, heart pounding in my chest.

Celine opened the door, her face pale and startled when she saw me standing there again.

"...You're back?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"You said, 'See you tomorrow,' right?" I replied, my tone casual but sharp enough to remind her of our unspoken agreement.

Then, with a small smirk, I added,

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone about yesterday. I'm a man of my word."

Her expression flickered with a mix of relief and suspicion.

After a long, tense moment, she sighed and stepped aside. "Please, come in."

I entered without hesitation, walking straight to the sofa like I owned the place. The house felt even colder than last night.

"So, heading out again today?" I asked, watching her closely.

Celine gave a quick nod and hurried upstairs. As she disappeared, Gareth came out of the bathroom, his face twisting in annoyance when he spotted me.

"You're back here again?" he grumbled.

"Yeah, at your wife's request," I replied, my voice icy, matching his scowl.

Gareth snorted, clearly irritated, but he didn't press the issue.

"Hmph, whatever." He shot me a dark look before walking away, but I wasn't interested in him.

My eyes scanned the room, looking for Flavia.

Moments later, Celine came down the stairs with Flavia in tow.

The girl's small frame shook with every step, her face pale as she shuffled slowly, eyes cast down, refusing to meet mine. She was terrified.

"Well, I hope she doesn't cause you any trouble," Celine said in a sickly sweet tone before slipping out the door.

Gareth followed, but not before giving me and Flavia one last piercing glare.

Once they were gone, I turned to Flavia, placing both hands gently on her trembling shoulders.

"What did Celine do to you?" I asked softly, though rage simmered beneath my words.

Flavia's voice was barely a whisper. "She... she threatened me. She beat me last night..." Her entire body quivered, fear etched into every line of her face.

I clenched my jaw, muttering under my breath, "That damned whore..."

But I knew Flavia needed calm, not fury. Forcing a smile, I said, "How about we play today? Forget about them for a while."

Flavia hesitated, then spoke, her voice still shaky but hopeful. "Can you get the ball from the attic?"

"Of course," I replied, ruffling her hair gently. "You wait here, okay?"

I headed upstairs, moving cautiously through the house until I found Celine and Gareth's bedroom.

Above it, a small hatch marked the entrance to the attic.

"Bingo," I muttered, pulling it open and climbing up.

The attic was shockingly clean-far too spotless for a place meant to gather dust. Something felt off.

"Where's the ball...?" I mumbled to myself, scanning the room.

But instead of a ball, something far more disturbing caught my eye.

Tucked away in the far corner was another altar. Blood-red markings lined its surface, and strange symbols were carved deep into the wood.

"What the hell?" I breathed. My mind raced. "They made a devil's pact here too?"

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. This wasn't just about Celine and Gareth's cruelty.

Something darker, far more sinister, was at play here.

As I stood in the attic, scanning the room, a chilling, distorted laugh echoed through the air.

My blood ran cold. Slowly, I turned around, and there it was-an eye, wide and bulging as if ready to pop from its socket, glaring at me.

Below the eye, a massive grin stretched unnaturally, revealing wide, white teeth gleaming in the dim light.

"Who the hell is there?!" I barked, gripping my dagger tightly.

The eyes widened further, the teeth shimmering eerily in the shadows.

My pulse quickened, and I hurled my dagger straight at the figure.

But instead of striking flesh, the blade passed through like smoke, embedding itself in the wall.

My heart pounded in my chest. I rushed forward, but the figure had vanished as if it had never been there at all.

I yanked the dagger out of the wall, scanning the attic, my breath shaky. "What the fuck was that?"

In the corner, I noticed the ball Flavia had asked for, lying there innocuously, like a forgotten toy in a haunted place.

Forcing my nerves to calm, I grabbed it and descended the stairs, determined to brush off the encounter.

"Flavia, I got the ball!" I called out, trying to sound as normal as possible, though a sense of unease gnawed at me.

But as I approached her, my breath caught in my throat.

Flavia was standing still, her eyes vacant, staring at nothing yet somehow directly through me.

Her lips stretched into a grotesque smile that didn't belong on her innocent face. Slowly, unnervingly, her head turned to look at me.

"Yes... let's play," she said, her voice hollow, void of warmth. She looked like a walking corpse.

My gut twisted. "Flavia...?" I whispered, dread creeping into my bones.

She tilted her head, her expression frozen in that sickly grin.

"What's wrong, Arche? Let's play." She picked up the ball with a stiff, unnatural motion and tossed it carelessly, the ball crashing into the wall.

The framed photos hanging there fell, the glass shattering loudly on the floor.

"Ah... my bad," she said, her tone unnervingly cheerful, her smile never faltering.

"Flavia!" I shouted, panic rising in my chest.

Suddenly, she erupted into laughter-a chilling, echoing sound that bounced around the room.

Her empty eyes never blinked, her movements erratic as she began to trash the living room, scattering objects everywhere.

I rushed to stop her, but the moment I tried, she squirmed away with terrifying speed, her grin widening.

She crawled toward me, her limbs moving in twisted, unnatural jerks, eyes still void and smiling as wide as ever.

My breath caught in my throat as she got closer, the sight of her distorted figure sending a primal fear through my body.

"Waaah!" I stumbled back, instinctively rec oiling from her.

She lunged at me, moving faster than anything that size should, and I knew I had no choice.

"Sorry, Flavia!" I muttered through gritted teeth, my foot connecting with her midsection.

She flew backward, slamming into the wall with a sickening thud before crumpling to the floor, unconscious.

I took a moment to catch my breath, my heart racing. Whatever that thing was, it wasn't the Flavia I knew.

Without wasting any more time, I shot up a signal flare to alert Benedict.

Not long after, I heard a firm knock at the door, and Benedict burst in, a serious look etched on his face.

"So, can you explain what happened?" he demanded, striding toward me.

"I think... Flavia is possessed," I replied, my voice barely steady. The surprise on his face was unmistakable.

"Possessed? You mean the demon has taken Flavia's body as its vessel?" His brows furrowed, and I nodded, feeling the weight of my words.

"In this attic, there was also an altar. I saw a terrifying white figure there," I explained, the memory sending chills down my spine.

Suddenly, Flavia stirred, her eyes snapping open with a vacant intensity.

In an instant, she lunged at Benedict, sinking her teeth into his shoulder.

"Agh!" he yelped, stumbling back as she thrashed wildly.

I reacted instinctively, pushing Flavia to the floor and pinning her down.

"Benedict! Can you perform exorcisms?!" My voice rose in urgency.

"Of course! I'm a priest, after all," he replied, but his tone was laced with a hint of uncertainty.

He quickly knelt beside her, gripping her head as he began to chant incantations in a low, rhythmic voice that I couldn't comprehend.

Flavia's screams filled the room, the sound raw and piercing.

I watched, torn between dread and hope, as Benedict continued his chant, the air thick with tension.

Would this work?

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Benedict produced a small glass filled with water.

He began chanting again, his voice gaining strength as he poured the water over Flavia.

Her body went limp, and she fell unconscious. My heart raced as I turned to Benedict. "Did it work...?"

Benedict let out a heavy breath, the relief not quite reaching his eyes. "Huff... no."

I was taken aback by his response.

"What do you mean no?"

"It will only calm her down for a moment," he continued, his expression grave. "I'm not that great at this."

I couldn't help but taunt him, the tension bubbling over. "You're so lame."

After a moment of silence, I carefully lifted Flavia and carried her back to her room, laying her down gently on her bed.

I glanced back at Benedict, who looked deep in thought.

I returned to the living room, where shards of glass lay scattered across the floor, remnants of our earlier chaos.

I cleaned up the mess, my mind racing with the implications of what we had just encountered.

The attic, the altar, and the figure-I felt a shiver of unease ripple through me.

Once I finished cleaning, I settled down next to Benedict, who was still looking troubled.

"About Flavia..." I began, my voice low as I avoided his direct gaze.

"Is she really possessed because of the demon pact made by her parents?"

Benedict nodded, his eyes sharp as knives. "I've studied that book of demon pacts," he said firmly.

"What's happening to Flavia is not a coincidence. She's trapped in a deep bond, and it could endanger everything."

I swallowed hard, feeling the tension in the air. "But... what do we do? Can we save her?"

He shook his head, his expression growing darker.

"According to that book, the only way to end this curse is to eliminate the source. And right now, Flavia is that source."

Those words hit me like a punch to the gut. "You mean... kill her?" My voice caught, almost unable to believe it.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation. "She's not just possessed; she's become part of that pact. If we do nothing, she will endanger others."

"And if the pact continues, the consequences could be even worse."

My heart raced. "But she's just a child, Benedict! She's innocent! We have to find another way!"

Benedict looked at me with an intense gaze, but there was no empathy in his eyes.

"You have to face this reality. If we don't stop it now, no one will survive. There's no time for doubt."

His words silenced me, but inside, my disagreement was growing stronger.

Flavia might be trapped in darkness, but she was still alive. She still had hope.

And I couldn't let that plan become a reality.

"No," I said firmly. "I won't do that. We have to find another way. We can save her without sacrificing her life."

Benedict sighed, frustration evident on his face.

"You're being naïve. This isn't about humanity; it's about survival."

"And if you continue to refuse to see the truth, we'll all pay the price."

The atmosphere grew tenser, and I could feel the struggle between hope and reality shaking my mind.

"I don't care," I said, my voice trembling with anger and helplessness.

"I will find another way. Flavia cannot die."

Benedict stood rigidly in front of me, his face etched with dissatisfaction.

He looked at me, all the doubt and frustration simmering in his eyes.

"You really don't understand, do you?" he said, his tone laced with annoyance.

"You're always so easily swayed by your feelings."

"This isn't the first time you've jumped into someone's life, trying to save them without thinking about the consequences."

I lowered my head, feeling the thread of guilt tightening around me.

"I just want to help Flavia, Benedict. She's not to blame for what happened to her."

"And that's the problem!" he nearly shouted. "You dive into their lives like a hero, but you don't see how dangerous this situation is"

"You're caught up in excessive empathy, and that could destroy us all."

"Empathy?" My voice trembled slightly as I struggled to maintain my stance.

"They are people who are hurting! We should care!"

"And that's what you have to distinguish between!" He was almost yelling now, his voice echoing in the stillness of the night.

"You're too focused on their feelings, to the point of forgetting our own safety. There's no time for sentimentality!"

I took a deep breath, feeling the tension between us. "But what's the point if we don't try to save them?"

"What's the point of our strength if we don't use it to help those who suffer?"

"And what do you gain from all of this?" He stared at me intently. "Will all your feelings save Flavia?"

"Or just pull her deeper into darkness? You need to learn not to get so attached to others like this."

"This isn't a fairy tale; it's a reality filled with darkness and sacrifice."

His words hit me hard, and I felt a battle between conviction and doubt raging inside me.

"Maybe it's better to get involved in their lives and fight than to just stand by and watch them crumble," I replied, trying to hold my ground.

"So easy to say, isn't it?" Benedict shook his head. "But remember, every time you make a decision based on your feelings, there's a chance we'll pay a very high price."

"So think carefully-are all of these feelings worth fighting for?"

I fell silent, contemplating every word he had said.

Benedict looked at me intently, as if examining every part of my being.

"Listen, I know you have potential. But you need to remember who you are, who you were in the organization."

"You're not someone who cares about others-you're someone who focuses on your goals," he said, his voice calm but filled with pressure.

"I want you to get back to that mindset, change your perspective. Stop being naive. The world doesn't care about you or your feelings."

"We fight for something greater, and for that, sometimes we have to be ready to sacrifice something," he continued, emphasizing each word.

His words echoed in my mind, resurrecting old memories I wanted to leave behind.

He went on, "You have to choose-will you sacrifice someone else for your goal, or will you sacrifice yourself for them?"

As he spoke those words, Arthur's face flashed in my mind.

His smile, his laughter, and the words he once said,

"We're friends, and because we're friends, I don't want to lose you!"

It was as if that voice was calling me from the darkness, reminding me of the bonds I once forged.

In an instant, all those memories swirled in my thoughts: the times I had exploited and used my friends to achieve my goals.

It all came rushing back like haunting shadows, filling the empty spaces in my heart.

"Am I going to lose someone I love again?" I pondered in silence.

The voice in my heart trembled, caught between two difficult choices.

To sacrifice others or to sacrifice myself-what weighed heavier?

My silence became a terrifying answer. Deep inside, I knew that regardless of the decision I made, the outcome would carry profound consequences.

All of this trapped me in uncertainty, and I couldn't express it in words.

In the end, all I could do was stare at Benedict, feeling every emotion churning within me.

Suddenly, a knock on the door jolted me awake. I stood up, rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and opened the door, revealing Celine and Gareth standing there.

"You're back already?" I asked, trying to mask my surprise.

"Yeah... and Arche, why do you look... frustrated?" Celine inquired, her brow furrowing in concern.

I realized my expression had betrayed me. Quickly, I covered my face with both hands, took a deep breath, and forced a smile.

"Ah, it's nothing!" I feigned nonchalance. "You guys came back so fast."

"Yeah, we were just checking something," Gareth said, his tone casual, though this was the first time he had engaged with me directly.

"Oh, is that so?" I replied, suddenly remembering that Benedict was still inside. I glanced around the room but didn't see him.

"Is Flavia okay?" Celine asked, concern etched across her features.

"Ah... she's fine, but there was a small incident earlier." I turned around, but Benedict was nowhere to be seen.

"Oh, I see...?" They exchanged a look, perhaps sensing that something was off.

"Okay, you're not needed here anymore, see you later." Gareth's abruptness startled me as he shoved me out of the doorway. Rude much?

He slammed the door shut behind me, leaving me standing on the porch.

"He's so rude. I haven't even been paid yet," I muttered under my breath.

Where the hell did Benedict go? I wondered. He really doesn't understand manners, does he?

"Is he really a priest?" The thought nagged at me as I made my way back to the hotel, mulling over the events of the day.

Should I rid myself of my empathy and revert to my old self?

"Bastard... he made me confused." Frustration welled up inside me as I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the turmoil.

That evening, unease settled in my gut as I returned to Flavia's house.

I was still worried that she could be possessed at any moment, and I needed to keep a close watch.

I climbed onto the roof, lying flat and scanning the house for any signs of trouble.

The sky darkened above me, and without realizing it, I drifted off to sleep, my mind heavy with concern.

A piercing scream jolted me awake. Adrenaline surged through me as I bolted upright, heart racing.

I hurried downstairs, instinctively shattering the window to gain access to Flavia's room.

Inside, I scanned the dimly lit space, my breath catching in my throat as I looked for any signs of danger.

But everything seemed eerily calm.

"Huh..." I muttered, confusion swirling in my mind.

The room was filled with shadows, the air thick with a tense silence. Something felt off, but I couldn't quite place it.

Where was Flavia? I stepped further inside, my instincts screaming that I was not alone.

As soon as I heard the whisper, "Found you...", my heart skipped a beat.

Flavia stood in front of me, her once innocent eyes now empty and lifeless, her lips twisted into a grotesque grin that revealed all of her teeth.

She clutched a knife in her small hands, the blade gleaming ominously in the dim light of the room.

Without thinking, I stumbled backward, my breath catching in my throat. I didn't want to hurt her.

I couldn't. But the look in her eyes-the pure, unfeeling malice-wasn't Flavia.

It was something else. Something dark.

"Flavia, stop!" I shouted, but she only giggled, her voice echoing unnaturally in the room.

"Run, run, or I'll catch you..." Her voice was sing-song, taunting me as she raised the knife, inching closer.

I turned and bolted out of the room, my heart pounding wildly in my chest.

I could hear her footsteps chasing me, rapid and relentless, the sound of her laughter chilling me to the bone.

I dashed through the narrow hallway, my mind racing. I couldn't fight her. Not like this.

Furniture blurred past me as I sprinted through the house, dodging around corners, trying to put as much distance between us as possible.

I could feel the weight of her presence behind me, that unnatural giggle growing louder, sending shivers down my spine.

From the hallway, I heard her voice, sweet and mocking, calling out to me.

"Where are you, Arche? You can't hide forever."

I gritted my teeth, panic rising. I didn't want to hurt her.

But if I couldn't figure out a way to stop her-she'd leave me no choice.

I ran into the kitchen, as soon as I got there, my eyes were immediately drawn to something that made me stop in my tracks.

Celine's body was lying on the floor, blood pooling around her.

But what truly shocked me was her lips-separated from her face, just placed there near her body.

"What...?" I whispered, barely audible.

I stared at the scene, feeling a mix of emotions. My body froze for a moment, but I didn't lose control.

I already knew who did this. Flavia. Or rather, the entity that had taken over her.

I needed to find a way to stop her, before more lives were lost.

I turned, still reeling from the shock of the scene I had just witnessed.

Before I could fully process it, Flavia lunged at me from behind, her expression twisted into something almost unrecognizable.

The glint of the knife reflected the dim light as she jumped, aiming to plunge it into me.

In that moment, instinct took over. I had no choice but to fight back.

With a swift motion, I pivoted and struck her in the abdomen, the impact sending her sprawling backward.

She hit the ground with a thud, the knife slipping from her grasp.

As I moved closer to grab the knife, Flavia suddenly sprang back to life, her movements quick and unpredictable.

In an instant, she snatched the knife from the ground and lunged at me, driving the blade into my chest.

A sharp gasp escaped my lips as pain surged through me, every breath becoming a struggle.

The world around me blurred for a moment, but I couldn't let that stop me.

With a surge of adrenaline, I kicked her away, sending her stumbling back.

I staggered, clutching my wound, feeling the warmth of blood seep through my fingers.

"Damn it.. why doesn't my intuition work at times like this..?"

I sprinted into the bathroom, my heart racing as I slammed the door shut and locked it behind me, desperate to escape Flavia's madness.

But as I turned around, my breath caught in my throat at the sight before me.

The bathtub wasn't filled with water; it was brimming with blood.

A sickening realization washed over me as I took a step closer.

Floating in the crimson liquid was Gareth's severed head, his lifeless eyes staring vacantly into nothingness.

Panic surged through me as the horror of the scene sank in.

This was no mere possession; this was a grotesque act of violence.

My mind raced, and I knew I had to keep it together.

Flavia was still out there, and I needed to find a way to stop her before it was too late.

The door to the bathroom exploded inward, the wood splintering under the force of Flavia's blow.

She stood there, breathing heavily, her wide, vacant eyes locked onto me, and that twisted smile still stretched across her face.

There was no hesitation in her movements now-just pure, relentless pursuit.

Without wasting another second, I darted through the second door that led to the living room, barely escaping as she lunged at me with the knife.

I could hear her footsteps pounding behind me, relentless and without pause. My heart raced, but I had to stay calm.

This wasn't the real Flavia-it was whatever had taken over her.

I reached the living room, the space wide and cluttered with furniture.

Perfect for maneuvering, but I needed to be smart.

I couldn't fight her head-on, not when she had a weapon and I had nothing.

But I didn't need to strike her directly. My training flooded back into my mind-the fluid motions, the ability to redirect an opponent's strength against themselves.

She charged at me again, the knife flashing toward my chest.

I twisted my body in a circular motion, sidestepping her attack with ease.

My movements were deliberate, calculated, meant to throw her off balance without exerting too much force.

As she stumbled past me, I used the momentum of her own strike to push her off course, sending her into the corner of the room.

Flavia hissed, her smile never fading as she whipped around, slashing at me again.

The knife came dangerously close, but I continued to move in a circle around her, deflecting her attacks with well-placed shoves and dodges.

I could feel her growing frustrated, her strikes becoming wilder, more erratic.

That's what I needed-her to lose control.

She lunged forward again, and I caught her wrist this time, twisting her arm to the side and spinning her off balance.

She stumbled into the wall, her back hitting it hard.

The knife clattered to the floor for a brief moment, but before I could grab it, she was already diving for the weapon.

I cursed under my breath as she snatched it up again, turning to face me with that same maniacal grin, bloodlust burning in her eyes.

She slashed at me, but I stayed calm, sidestepping her once more, using my footwork to guide her movements.

Each time she struck, I was there to deflect, to guide her momentum away from me.

My focus was razor-sharp, my every move precise.

The room felt smaller and smaller as we danced around each other, her trying to land a fatal blow, and me redirecting her attacks.

Her breathing became ragged, her energy faltering.

I could see her weakening, her attacks slowing. I had to end this before she regained her strength.

I moved quickly, a sudden fluid motion that caught her off guard.

I twisted her arm again, this time harder, and used her own momentum to pin her against the wall, trapping her in a corner.

Her eyes widened in shock, the knife dangling loosely from her hand now.

She was cornered.

I stood there, breathless but composed, looking into her empty eyes, trying to find a trace of the real Flavia. But there was nothing.

Just the blank, soulless gaze of whatever was controlling her.

Flavia's breathing was uneven as she slumped against the wall, the knife still loosely held in her hand.

Her eyes darted around the room, wild and filled with an unsettling gleam.

Then, she let out a low, eerie chuckle, the sound of it sending chills down my spine.

"I'm not going to die here... not alone," she muttered, her voice dripping with a mix of madness and malice.

Her empty gaze found mine, and that twisted smile returned to her face, wider than before, as if she had thought of something unspeakable.

I watched in alarm as she suddenly shifted her focus, her eyes landing on a small oil lamp sitting on a nearby table.

Before I could react, Flavia lunged for it, gripping the lamp tightly in her hands.

"Flavia, don't!" I shouted, moving toward her, but it was too late.

With a crazed look in her eyes, she hurled the oil lamp across the room.

The glass shattered as it hit the carpet, and in an instant, flames erupted from the oil, quickly spreading across the floor.

he fire greedily licked at the fabric, the blaze growing with terrifying speed.

I watched in horror as the flames started to spread, the fire consuming the rug and rapidly moving toward the wooden furniture.

The heat intensified, filling the room with thick, acrid smoke.

Panic surged within me, but I couldn't let it control me. I needed to think fast.

The firelight danced across Flavia's face, her grin widening as she stared at the chaos she had created.

"I'm not going down alone... If I'm going to die, I'll take everything with me," she hissed, her voice rising in a frenzied tone.

The flames crackled and roared, casting eerie shadows across the room as the fire spread, engulfing everything in its path.

The air grew hotter, thicker, making it harder to breathe.

I backed away, my mind racing. I needed to get out of here, but I couldn't just leave her like this.

Flavia, or whatever had taken control of her, was determined to destroy everything.

This wasn't just a fight anymore-it was survival.

The flames crept closer, the room now filled with the oppressive heat of the growing inferno. There was no time left.

The fire raged, consuming the room in a roaring blaze.

The heat was unbearable, flames licking at the walls and furniture, turning everything into a burning inferno.

Sweat dripped down my face as I tried to catch my breath, but there was no time to stop.

My eyes darted toward Flavia-no, the creature that had taken over her.

Just as I turned, Flavia lunged at me with the knife. For a split second, I was caught off guard, but instinct kicked in.

I dodged to the side, her strike missing me by inches.

Her momentum carried her straight into the wooden wardrobe behind me.

The impact sent the large piece of furniture teetering, and with a loud crash, it toppled over, trapping Flavia beneath it.

For a moment, silence hung in the air, broken only by the crackling of the flames.

I looked down at her, expecting rage, madness, anything but what I saw.

Flavia lay pinned beneath the wardrobe, her once empty eyes now clear.

A soft, almost serene smile crossed her face-this time, not twisted or crazed, but genuine. Sweet.

I couldn't hear her words over the roar of the fire, but as her lips moved, I knew what she was saying.

"Thank you... for freeing me, Arche."

The weight of her words hit me harder than any blow could. My heart clenched.

I stood frozen, watching as the flames crept closer to the wardrobe.

Fire licked at the edges of the wood, consuming it slowly, inch by inch.

For the last time, I could see the real Flavia. Not the vessel for whatever evil had possessed her, but the small, fragile girl I had been trying to protect.

And now, she was smiling at me, freed from her torment, even as the flames began to devour the wardrobe.

The fire continued to spread, but I couldn't move.

I could only watch as the flames claimed her. I wanted to save her.

The urge to pull her from the flames, to keep her alive, gnawed at me.

But deep down, I knew-there was no saving her.

There was no undoing what had been done. She had been freed in her own way, and any attempt to rescue her would only drag me into the inferno with her.

Survival instinct kicked in. My body moved on its own, pushing through the smoke and heat, even as parts of my clothes caught fire.

The flames bit at my skin, but I pressed on, forcing myself out of the crumbling, burning building.

My breath came in ragged gasps as I staggered outside, feeling the cold air hit my face like a slap.

I made it. I was alive. But the cost...

Behind me, the house was fully engulfed in flames, roaring higher and higher, a bright orange pillar against the darkening sky.

The crackling fire consumed everything, and I couldn't help but stare.

As I stood there, staring at the burning wreck, something deep inside my mind stirred.

An old memory, something I had long buried, came flooding back. Another house... another fire.

The sight of this burning house pulled me back, dragging me through time.

My chest tightened, and suddenly I wasn't just standing outside Flavia's home.

I was reliving that moment. That other fire. The heat, the choking smoke, the unbearable loss.

That house...

I shook my head, trying to banish the memory, but it clung to me, refusing to let go.

The flames danced, flickering like shadows of the past, and I was helpless to stop them.

Long story short, the townsfolk managed to extinguish the fire, but not before it engulfed the house, leaving it a charred shell.

Luckily, the neighboring homes sustained only minor damage, a few scorched shingles here and there.

Once the flames were doused, people speculated that the fire was caused by a dropped lamp oil container, which had accidentally ignited, taking with it the family that lived inside.

"That's what people say..." I murmured, the weight of their tragedy lingering in the air.

Benedict and I sat in a dimly lit restaurant, our plates half-finished, but our conversation flowed freely.

"How do you feel, Arche?" he asked, his voice casual but laced with concern.

"Nothing special." I winced slightly, the bandage underneath my shirt a constant reminder of Flavia's stab wound.

"The important thing is, you'll give me the information, right?"

"Yes... actually, you could have gotten the information on the first day,"

he replied, leaning back in his chair.

"But you're too involved with-"

"Can you shut the fuck up and just give me the information?" I shot him a sharp glare, impatience creeping into my tone.

"Okay... you're really in a hurry, huh? So what information do you want?" Benedict asked, unfazed by my outburst.

"I want to know about your leader... DEATH," I demanded, leaning forward, my elbows resting on the table.

"I thought you would ask that... but it's a shame I don't know him that well," he said, surprising me with his honesty. Disappointment washed over me.

"What I do know is that he has killed tens of thousands of people."

I felt a shiver run down my spine at the thought. "He has three lives... his weak point is his heart, so you have to stab his heart three times,"

Benedict continued, his voice steady despite the chilling information. That was enough for me to formulate a plan.

"Okay... that's enough." My mind raced, recalling DEATH's terrifying abilities and the rumors that followed him.

"By the way, I have one request."

"Hm? What?" He raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"If anyone from the organization asks what happened, just tell them that I burned down the house and killed the daughter." I lowered my head slightly, the weight of my words hanging heavily between us.

"Sure..." he nodded, accepting the burden without question.

"By the way, I'll give you some bonus information," Benedict added, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

"The news about you defeating Marcel has spread throughout the organization, you know."

A grim satisfaction settled in my chest. "Is that so?" I said, my voice low.

"Then they'll know to fear me. Let them come; I'll be ready."

"One of the members of the organization is very happy that you are still alive and can take care of yourself well," Benedict explained, a hint of admiration in his tone.

"You really cornered Marcel; that's pretty impressive, you know?"

"Ah... I know... it must be him, right?" I said, the name of my old teacher lingering bitterly on my tongue.

Benedict stood up, preparing to leave. "She's a woman, you know."

His words caught me off guard. I turned to him, curiosity piqued.

"Can you tell me her name?"

Benedict paused, his expression turning serious. After a moment of contemplation, he replied, "Zero One." With that, he walked out of the restaurant, leaving me in stunned silence.

"Zero One...?" I echoed, the name echoing ominously in my mind. Shock coursed through me at the revelation.

"Zero One... that means she is my senior. I've never even met her..." I sank back into my seat, staring blankly out the window.

The bustling streets outside felt distant, the world moving on without me.

Questions swirled in my mind like leaves caught in a storm. What did she want? Why was she happy I was alive?

Did she know about my past? The weight of uncertainty pressed down on me, mixing with the lingering pain from Flavia's attack.

A sense of dread filled the pit of my stomach. The organization was closing in, and I could feel their shadows looming over me.

With Zero One in the picture, things were about to get even more complicated.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever was to come. I had to be ready; the game was changing, and I was determined to play it on my own terms.

Great achievement is usually born of great sacrifice, and is never the result of selfishness