A pair of hands slowly crawled up Elena's neck.

These hands were twisted and cracked like withered tree branches, yet unnaturally heavy and hard, exuding a chilling, hellish coldness, intent on pulling Elena down onto the sofa.

She couldn’t see the owner of these hands, but she could feel them—dark brown, streaked with faint red lines, like bloodstains clawed from her own skin.

Outside the window, the sounds of a lively parade or perhaps an old-fashioned wedding filled the air, with drums and cymbals creating a cacophony of celebration. But her surroundings were eerily silent, so quiet that she could hear the thudding of her own heartbeat, as though the entire world was unaware of her struggle.

Her office was on the nineteenth floor of a high-rise building.

At this height, no sounds besides the wind could be heard, and from her position, she couldn’t see outside. Even if she could, there was no way such a procession would be passing by on this busy street. Despite still being trapped in the nightmare, she knew with clarity that she was once again experiencing sleep paralysis.

She knew that if she could just sit up, it would end, but the hands only tightened, dragging her down again. She could almost "see" herself swaying on the sofa like a ragdoll, and that playful mockery sparked a stubborn defiance deep within her, making her resist more forcefully.

But it was useless! The withered hands had already wrapped around her throat, tightening, tightening, tightening, until she could barely breathe.

Suddenly, inexplicably, she shouted, “Ave Maria, gratia plena!”

The hands recoiled as if scalded by fire, retreating with a sharp, pained groan. This gave Elena a moment to catch her breath, but before she could rise, the tree-like hands reached out again, this time hesitant but determined, painfully dragging her back into the darkness. Elena was startled, quickly repeating her prayers louder, then summoning all her strength to break free.

The clock showed 12:45 PM.

At this moment, Elena West, a lawyer at Silverstone Law Firm, awoke from her terrifying nightmare. There were no signs of battle around her—she had simply fallen asleep at her desk, and in her embarrassment, she had drooled onto the case files in front of her.

The timely knock on her door helped her regain her focus, and the person who entered made her relax. It was John, the firm’s intern. She had an afternoon meeting with a new client, and since she was a female lawyer, she couldn't meet a criminal suspect alone in a criminal case—she needed a male colleague with her, so John was accompanying her.

The detention center was quite a distance away, so they needed to leave early to save time in the afternoon.

As the afternoon sunlight bathed her, Elena felt as though the horrors of her nightmare were a distant memory, belonging to another time.

After graduating from law school, Elena West had drifted aimlessly for a few years before finally taking the bar exam and becoming a practicing lawyer. Others envied her stable career, but only she knew that she was not cut out for this job. She was careless, soft-hearted, impulsive, and overly emotional—traits that made her ill-suited for the cold, calculating, and decisive nature of a lawyer. As a result, her performance had been lackluster. Since finishing her internship and starting her career, she had been the lawyer with the lowest win rate at the largest law firm in the city. Had it not been for her mentor, the senior partner who was a former professor of hers, she would have long been kicked out. She was aware that her colleagues whispered behind her back, saying she was only here because of connections, but she could only grit her teeth and bear it.

For a case as grisly and bloody as this one, the firm usually wouldn’t assign a female lawyer, and Elena had never won a criminal case. However, the suspect in this case had not hired a lawyer, and due to the possibility of a death sentence, the court had appointed Silverstone Law Firm to fulfill this duty. Naturally, since it was a case with no financial benefit, it was assigned to someone like her, a junior lawyer with little experience.

The case itself was straightforward: the facts were clear, and the evidence was indisputable. The only issue was the mental state of the defendant at the time of the crime. However, the brutality of the crime made Elena shudder involuntarily.

The suspect’s name was Lucas Graves, 42, a math teacher at a prominent local high school. He lived with his wife, son, divorced sister-in-law, and in-laws. The family was made up entirely of educators, with every adult, except for the 15-year-old son still in high school, working in the teaching profession. Lucas and his wife even taught at the same school.

According to colleagues, friends, and neighbors, Lucas Graves was usually quiet, mild-mannered, and conflict-averse—an easygoing "nice guy" who was notably submissive to his wife’s more dominant family. But over a month before the incident, he seemed to transform into a different person. He began having intense arguments with his family, even resorting to physical confrontations. His personality, once mild and passive, seemed as though it had been overtaken by something darker.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

On the night of the crime, Lucas got into a heated argument with his wife, and then, using a machete he had prepared beforehand, he brutally murdered her, his sister-in-law, and his in-laws. His young son was severely injured and forced to jump from a sixth-floor window to escape. He remained in a deep coma, with a chance of being left in a vegetative state.

The crime scene was horrific—blood was everywhere, and the brutality was unimaginable.

When the police arrived, they were greeted by a disturbing sound—a manic laugh echoing through the room. The living room was drenched in blood, with barely any space to step. Four bodies were seated on the sofa, lined up like twisted dolls. One of the bodies had a head placed on its leg, though it was unclear whether it was its own. Another body had its head hanging unnaturally forward, held on only by a sliver of skin. A third body’s head had rolled off entirely, nearly tripping the officers as they entered. Lucas Graves himself was seated on another sofa, holding his wife’s head and mumbling to himself, “Is it... is it... not... not...”

He seemed oblivious to the officers’ arrival, completely unaware of their presence. It took little effort to restrain him. Afterward, he struggled violently and screamed, “No! It’s not me! There’s a demon... a demon!” His desperate cries sent a chill through the neighborhood.

During interrogation, he refused to discuss the crime and attempted suicide multiple times. When he was saved, he became eerily silent and distant. Although there were suspicions regarding his mental state, experts later ruled him sane. Now, all that awaited him was his trial.

Rumors circulated that some rookie officers who had witnessed the scene had fainted on the spot, and many veterans who had seen their fair share of crime were visibly shaken. Even now, neighbors of the Graves family didn’t dare leave their homes after dark, a testament to the horrifying nature of what had occurred. Elena didn’t find this hard to understand. She had seen a few photographs from the crime scene, and even just a brief glance at them sent an icy chill down her spine. She had no desire to be involved any further.

Despite wanting to distance herself, despite the terror gripping her heart, she had to maintain a calm and professional demeanor. She forced herself to go to the detention center to meet the perpetrator of this horrific act.

Today, she finally understood why people said lawyers were the ones who "dealt with the devil."

“Mr. Lee, I’m Elena West, your court-appointed defense attorney,” Elena said, trying to sound composed, though she still couldn’t bring herself to look him directly in the eyes.

Lucas Graves sat silently, his gaze fixed on the floor, not responding.

“As your defense attorney, my role is to protect your legal rights, and I will do my best to assist you,” Elena continued, her voice steady as she assessed the situation. John sat to her left, and between her and Lucas was a sturdy table, with a police officer standing nearby. These details gave her some comfort, but she quickly realized that her words, though routine, felt hollow. She had gone through the motions, explaining the defendant's rights, but it was as if she were speaking to a wall. His lack of reaction only heightened her sense of nervousness.

This couldn’t happen!

She was a fully licensed attorney, though her performance had been poor and her win rate low. Still, she couldn't afford to show weakness in front of an intern like John, especially not in this initial meeting. It was her job to listen, understand, and build trust with the client—how could she be so flustered? No, no! She had to be strong. With the police officer present, she reminded herself to stand firm.

This was the first time she had really studied her client, and she could feel the weight of the situation settling in.

He was thin, almost gaunt—skin and bones. Perhaps it was his natural build, or maybe the lack of sunlight during his confinement, but his skin was unnaturally pale, tinged with a faint bluish hue. It almost felt as if you could see his veins crawling just beneath the surface. He sat there motionless, appearing calm and harmless on the outside, but to Elena, there was something eerie about him. Like his body was buried deep within the wooden chair, his shadow curled in the darkness, as though he were silently watching something. If it weren’t for the company of others, Elena would almost swear she was facing not a living person, but a wax figure from the movie House of Wax.

“So... can you tell me what happened that night?” Elena swallowed hard, reluctantly opting for a direct question, knowing that if she didn’t, she would end up talking to herself until sundown.

Lucas Graves' eyes finally shifted. His neck slowly turned, and his gaze, which had been focused intently on the ground, now locked onto Elena. But his reaction didn’t make Elena feel any better. In fact, it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

Did no one notice? The angle at which his neck twisted was unnatural, and though his eyes seemed clear, there was something unsettling about the look in them. Everything about this man screamed abnormal. How could he be deemed fit for trial, for criminal responsibility?

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Lucas Graves suddenly spoke, his voice soft, as though it came from a distant place. “I didn’t kill anyone,” he repeated, his whisper growing more insistent. “There’s a demon. It took the form of my family. It lured me. It killed them. It was him! Not me! I didn’t kill anyone!”

By the end of his sentence, Lucas suddenly stood up and grabbed Elena’s wrist with alarming strength.

“I didn’t kill anyone! It was him! It was the demon! Help me! Help me!”

In an instant, everyone in the room was shocked by his sudden outburst. The police officers who had been present, along with those who rushed in afterward, quickly restrained Lucas, pinning him to the ground. But before he was fully subdued, he screamed at Elena, who had been pushed to the corner in fear, “There’s a demon! Believe me, he killed them! It was him! A demon—!”

His frantic screams stopped abruptly as he was subdued. John, pale and shaking, muttered to himself, “God, this is possession, isn’t it?”

Whether it was possession or not, whether her colleagues would laugh at her or her boss, Director Pan, would criticize her for being too easily shaken, Elena had made up her mind. She didn’t want to continue with this case. She wanted out.

She looked down at her wrists, already feeling the soreness where Lucas had gripped her. It wouldn’t be long before bruises appeared there, dark and heavy. She was certain that those marks were from the grip of something otherworldly—she had distinctly felt the chilling pressure that had transferred from Lucas to her, like a sinister force she couldn’t shake off.

This case might not be as simple as it seemed. It wasn’t just ordinary terror she was facing.

And that was enough for her to decide—she was out.