Everybody stood frozen, unable to move a single muscle. The scene which unfolded before them was unlike anything they'd ever witnessed, even with their exposure to supernatural phenomena. This was a new standard, even for them. Yet, there was something else—a lingering, unspoken tension.

“Di-Did we just sell 32 human souls to demons?” Ryan muttered, his voice trembling. He had gone along with the flow of events, but now the crushing guilt was sinking in.

“Don’t worry about it. Those souls were bound for hell anyway,” Shin replied, trying to reassure him.

“H-how do you even know that? And why do you have this?” Ryan demanded, pointing at the soulbook.

“I got it—”

“From a demon? Who do you think you’re fooling? Just admit it already,” Alex interrupted coldly.

“It’s not like—” Fiona began, but Shin raised his hand, signaling her to stop.

“I understand. We have to work together for now, so it’s better if we don’t keep secrets anymore,” Shin said, exhaling deeply. He paused, then continued, “I am the son of the previous cult leader of Devil’s Eyes. I was one of his henchmen, and I’ve killed many people—innocent or not. Anyone who got in the cult’s way was a target. It’s entirely possible that some of them were your allies.”

Fiona stared at the floor. Ryan avoided eye contact, focusing intently on the laptop screen, while Alex sat in brooding silence, his eyes fixed on the table.

“I already knew who you were,” Alex finally said. “I was just waiting for you to admit it.”

“I was going to tell you before the mission,” Shin explained. “Fiona didn’t want me to, though. She thought it might disrupt the teamwork.”

“I just... I thought, Alex, you would—” Fiona’s voice broke, and she couldn’t finish her sentence.

“You don’t have the right to make decisions on my behalf in the name of ‘keeping the team together.’ And if you thought I’d be upset, well, now I’m even more upset because you lied to me,” Alex said, his tone sharp.

“I know you feel betrayed, Alex,” Shin said, “but Fiona did it for the sake of the mission. Letting our emotions get in the way can be dangerous.”

“She was the first to act on emotions, not me,” Alex retorted. “She may have her reasons, but that doesn’t mean she can take away our choices. We’re on the same team, after all.”

“I’m sorry,” Fiona muttered quietly, almost inaudibly.

“Does it matter? You’re not the one who told us to work with him. That order came from upstairs—those angels. If I weren’t contracted to one of them, I’d be making their ears bleed with some very unholy words right now,” Alex said bitterly.

“Are you sure you’re okay working with us?” Shin asked firmly.

“Who’s ‘us’? Fiona is still part of our team. As for you, I spent a week debating whether I could work with you. Fiona seems to trust you—whether it’s because of her angel or her own intuition, I don’t know. But I don’t trust either of those things. That’s why I decided to test you myself.”

“So, you mean that day…”

“Yeah, I wanted to see if you were still the cold-blooded demon everyone feared—or if you’d changed.”

“And what did you decide?”

“Well, I’m still alive, so I suppose those old rumors are just that—rumors. But who knows? A demon is a demon, even if it’s tamed.”

“So why are you still here? Are you planning to kill me during the mission to avenge your fallen comrades?” Shin asked, his tone sharp.

Alex’s expression turned hollow. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this job, it’s that you can’t do anything for the dead. Revenge won’t bring them back. They won’t rise from their graves just because I killed their murderer.”

Fiona and Ryan exchanged pitiful glances at Alex’s words.

“Even knowing that I killed your comrades—and possibly someone you cared for deeply—can you trust me?” Shin asked.

“I trust your judgment,” Alex replied simply.

Shin turned to Ryan, silently asking if he had anything to say.

“I’m sure Fiona wouldn’t trust you without reason,” Ryan said hesitantly.

Shin nodded before continuing. “The soulbook—it belonged to my father. When I was young, I saw him using it to trade with demonic merchants. But the most significant thing is the souls trapped inside it. Once bound to a demonic artifact like this, their corruption is inevitable. Even if we release them, they’d still end up in hell—or worse, become demons themselves out of resentment.”

“But that’s unfair,” Ryan protested.

“I know, but there’s nothing we can do about it. At least if we use them for trading or let a demon absorb them, it spares them from eternal torture. It’s a slightly better fate.”

“Yeah, he’s right,” Alex added. “after all soul is the most nutritious thing for a demon’s aura. That’s why they target children—pure, powerful souls. Adults have more corrupted ones.”

“Wait,” Ryan interjected. “Wouldn’t it make sense for demons to absorb corrupted souls since it aligns with their nature?”

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“Would you eat shit just because it aligns with your brain?” Fiona said.

Ryan glared at her.

“Think of children’s souls as gourmet food and adults’ as spoiled leftovers. Which would you choose?” Alex explained.

Ryan nodded. “Speaking of food…”

The aroma of Shin’s cooking was already captivating everyone in the room.

"Now, can we look at what we’ve got here?" Alex shifted the attention to the package they had retrieved.

"Do we need to open it like a regular package, or is some demonic ritual involved?"

Ryan glanced to his side but froze when he saw Shin already standing there with a knife. The sight startled him so much that he fell off his chair.

"W-w-wait, Shin! Are you sacrificing me just to open this package?" Ryan stammered, panicking.

Shin said nothing, simply handing him the knife before walking away to cook. Fiona and Alex burst into laughter at Ryan’s expense.

*Cough* *cough.* Ryan got up, his face flushed with embarrassment. Avoiding eye contact with anyone, he quickly cut through the tape and removed the item inside.

The contents were underwhelming: four plain silver rings sealed in a ziplock bag. Ryan frowned in disappointment. He had expected something far more extravagant—perhaps a demonic metallic box adorned with skulls and sinister carvings. But no, these rings were utterly ordinary, devoid of any designs or markings. Disheartened, he passed the bag to the others without a second thought.

The others examined the rings and confirmed their true purpose: they were exceptionally good at concealing their presence when worn. After everyone tested them, Alex volunteered to take responsibility for keeping the rings safe.

"For a demonic item, these are surprisingly normal," Ryan remarked.

"That’s intentional," Shin explained. "Demons wouldn’t want the items to give away easily that they are demons."

"I disagree," Alex said, narrowing his eyes at Ryan. "These days, it’s more common for youngsters to prefer things that look demonic. Isn’t that right, Ryan?"

Ryan fell silent. He couldn’t deny it. Alex always told him that those songs he listened to were fully demonic but Ryan never listened and now the crushing revelation that his idol, Vixton, was actually a demon made his pain worse. Vixton had been an inspiration to him—someone who fought for his dreams and worked tirelessly for the people he loved. Unlike Ryan, who had run away from the only person who truly cared for him.

"Come on, Alex. Don’t be so harsh," Fiona interjected. Then, with a sly smile, she added, "Weren’t you a fan of Roberto Sonjohan, the guy who sold his soul to become famous?"

"How do you—" Alex’s eyes widened in shock.

"I found a playlist of his songs on your phone once," Fiona smirked.

"Hey! You shouldn’t go through someone else’s phone without permission!" Alex protested, his face turning red.

"Whatever," Fiona replied with a shrug.

Alex quickly pulled out his phone and hid the folder containing the playlist.

Ryan couldn’t help but smile at the exchange. Fiona noticed and gave him a supportive smile in return.

“Anyways, they probably have more demonic items. It would be a disaster to raid them without a plan,” Fiona said. “I think Shin’s idea to track Judas and use him as a disguise is plausible. Plus, we might not even need to fight.”

“What’s the fun in that?” Alex pouted.

“For god’s sake, Alex, they totally outnumber us! How do you think we’re going to fight them head-on?” Fiona said, rolling her eyes.

“Fitting for a weakling like you,” Alex shot back.

Before their argument could escalate further, Shin announced that dinner was ready. The tension dissolved as they turned their attention to the meal, a grand spread prepared by Shin: manchow soup, salmon sushi, Kung Pao chicken, and a bowl of rice.

Although the dishes seemed simple, they were extraordinary to the three demon hunters. The flavors were nearly on par with those of a Michelin-starred chef. Despite his blindness, Shin had placed every ingredient perfectly, distinguishing jars by touch and measuring quantities with flawless precision. The vegetables and chicken were cut with surgical accuracy.

“How do your meals taste so amazing, Shin?” Fiona asked, savoring the chicken.

“It’s just practice,” Shin replied modestly.

“I don’t think I could cook like this even if I trained my whole life. You should definitely join our group, Shin! Even if you are a demon, everyone would accept you once they tasted your cooking. You could be the head chef at headquarters,” Alex proposed.

“I’m happy with my job as a writer,” Shin replied, sipping his soup.

“You’re certainly successful as a writer, but if you entered the culinary world, who knows? You might achieve even more.”

“Well, let’s table this topic for now and finish dinner.”

Ryan, taking this suggestion to heart, didn’t utter a single word as he relished the delicious meal.

After dinner, they helped Shin with the dishes. Once everything was cleaned up, they said their goodbyes and returned to their respective places to rest.

Midnight arrived. Darkness blanketed the streets, illuminated only by the moon and the occasional streetlamp. A lone figure staggered down the road, reeking of alcohol. His movements were unsteady, but somehow, he managed to drag himself to a high-rise apartment building. The security guard spotted him and recognized him.

It was Judas.

The guard rushed to support him, keeping him from collapsing. He helped Judas to the elevator, escorted him to his apartment door, and then left.

“Tch. These youngsters… no regard for life. Just drink yourself to death, why don’t you? Why make my job harder?” the guard muttered as he walked away.

Judas fumbled with his keys, finally managing to unlock the door after several tries. He stumbled into his luxurious apartment on the sixth floor. The living room was lavishly furnished, with premium furniture and a 40-inch television playing the performance of a young artist. Judas shut the door behind him and collapsed onto the couch.

Drunk out of his mind, he mumbled incoherently before turning onto his back and staring at the chandelier above. Its brilliant light filled the room.

**Why am I sad? Why do I feel his trauma so deeply? What the hell is going on?**

This was the only clear thought in his clouded mind.

**It must be because, even after forming the contract, I haven’t fulfilled his wish. Damn it. Why did I even make a deal with this fool? If only I knew who he wanted revenge on… No. I must kill that person. I must. I must...**

Judas passed out, his mind slipping into a vivid memory. At first, it was foggy, but gradually the haze cleared, revealing a scene from two years ago.

Judas was sitting along with a man dressed in white suit his face blurry at the record studios, his heart was racing. His first album was about to be produced, and he felt unstoppable. Nothing could prevent him from going big.

Or so he thought.

“What do you mean my album can’t be released?” he demanded.

“Listen, Judas,” the man in the white suit replied firmly. “We already told you that your songs contain too much profanities. Despite clear guidelines, you didn’t follow them. Our label has decided to drop your album.”

“But I stayed within the limits you gave me! Now you’re saying it can’t be released? I followed all your guidelines! I worked day and night like a dog!” Judas’s voice shook, his eyes pleading with the producer not to discard his hard work.

“I’m sorry, Judas. Better luck next time.” The producer turned and started to walk away.

**No. This can’t be happening. This album is my life’s work. I can’t afford to lose this chance. I need to succeed. I have to pay my sister’s school fees... Mom, she worked so hard just so I can continue my dream if this opportunity slips away... No**

Gritting his teeth, Judas called out in a low voice, “Wait. Please, there must be a way. I’ll do anything—just don’t scrap my album.”

The producer paused, then slowly turned back. “Well... if you say so. We might reconsider if you...”

He approached Judas, raising a finger and running it from his head down to his chest. Although the producer’s face remained blurry, Judas could feel the sinister grin on his lips.