Chapter 68: Even Better…
1076 Words
Two minutes later, the gaslight in the small shop flickered a few times and then came on.
Andrew sat quietly in the chair behind the counter, his eyes still filled with horror, but it was a completely different kind of horror—the suppressed, explosive terror from before.
Instead, it carried a hint of… bewilderment, or rather, helplessness.
The shop door was less than three meters away, unlocked, just ajar; he could easily leap out.
However, he had no desire to escape.
Right now, he had several pieces of good news and several pieces of bad news.
The good news was that he seemed to have temporarily escaped the control of that cruel demon.
The bad news was that he had been found by an even more terrifying human.
The good news was: he hadn't died after being found.
The bad news was: he didn't know if being alive was a good thing.
He was now stuck sitting on a chair in the clothing store, forcing himself to appear calm while praying the damp smell from his crotch wouldn't seep out and upset the man.
Oh, right, the man's name was Sherlock Holmes; he'd even politely introduced himself.
Just as he thought this, footsteps approached. Andrew looked in the direction of the sound and saw a figure walking towards him in the dark, the blurry silhouette seemingly blending into the darkness, like an approaching evil spirit.
"Excuse me, the owner of this shop looks like a penniless wretch; there's no tea or coffee, but thankfully there's some hot water."
Sherlock stepped out of the darkness, holding a glass of water in each hand. He took a sip and handed the other glass to Andrew.
Andrew felt something was very wrong. After all that b****y and terrifying scene, this guy was actually pouring him a glass of water?
Even more absurdly, he actually accepted it and said, "Thank you..." Fine, he dared not entertain any more thoughts now. He'd just do whatever the other person asked. Even if the cup contained poison, he had no choice but to drink it.
So he took a small sip, trying his best to keep his trembling teeth from touching the cup.
"What's your name?"
"Andrew... Andrew." He was thankful that he could remember his name now.
"Oh, not a bad name," Sherlock said. "So, that guy is your contracted demon?"
"Yes..." he quickly replied.
"Haha." Sherlock seemed very interested. "Then could you tell me about your relationship?"
"Of course!" Andrew responded immediately, because the man in front of him was being far too polite. He was afraid the man would follow up with something like, 'Or I'll tie you to a steam pipe and roast you like a live pancake.'" He quickly recounted the entire incident in the clearest and fastest voice he could muster.
Actually, it wasn't too far-fetched.
The gist was... Andrew was a devout believer. Not long ago, he finally gained the opportunity to participate in an investiture ceremony... and afterwards, he smoothly acquired his own contracted demon.
It should have been a cause for celebration, but gradually... things went wrong. Andrew discovered that all of his contracted demon's abilities required fear as energy; otherwise, it was useless.
He had been devoutly worshipping the Holy Light since he was seven, and only at nineteen had he finally earned a contracted demon status, only to be given a useless one. Who could accept that?
So... he began using 'animal cruelty' to power his demon.
Although it was inhumane, he always chose rats or stray dogs to t*****e and kill, telling himself that this was doing a service to the people.
For a while, everything went smoothly. However, as he tortured and killed more and more small animals, his fear and discomfort intensified. Finally, one day, he discovered… he seemed to have lost control of his contracted demon.
Not only could he not control it, but his own fear had turned the tables, allowing the demon to control him.
This situation was extremely rare among contractors, but Andrew's contracted creature was indeed very special, and he himself was too cowardly. In any case, all these factors combined to make him a slave to his contracted demon.
From then on, the lamprey-like creature began to t*****e Andrew, poking b****y holes in his face and body, even tightening its grip on him, sucking out his eyes, and using him as nourishment for its fear.
It also forced him to t*****e and kill other humans for it…
This is the origin of the 'Eye-Gouging Demon,' until today when he met Sherlock.
After listening to the young man's story, Sherlock nodded. "Hmm, pretty much what I thought. It's a story of a coward being enslaved by a demon... Ah, sorry, I didn't mean to belittle you."
"It's okay... whatever you say about me," Andrew quickly explained, adding in his mind, "as long as you don't lay a hand on me."
Sherlock leaned against the wall. "In that case, you're an accomplice."
"Huh?!" Andrew was startled. He hadn't dared to say much, but who knew what the man in front of him was going to do? He quickly mustered his courage and said, "I...I...I'm a victim too. That guy forced me to do it. I'm innocent!!"
"Don't be so tense. The people you killed were innocent too. These days, innocence isn't a reason to escape punishment. There are plenty of innocent people in jail. You've killed a few yourself, much better than those suckers."
Andrew was stunned. The tone sounded like he was being comforted, but something about it just felt off.
“Then…then…”
“Don’t worry, I’ll send you to the professionals. You might be imprisoned for decades, or you might be executed outright, but either way, it’s better than you continuing to be that guy’s slave, right?” Sherlock’s words of comfort were still awkward, but the young man in front of him remained silent for a moment, then slowly exhaled, and truly said nothing more.
Seeing that the other party had calmed down, Sherlock said with satisfaction, “Very good, then I wish you a better outcome during your trial;
Next, I need to deal with your unruly contracted demon.”
Andrew, hearing this, was slightly bewildered: “But, it has already escaped back to Hell.”
The man in front of him smiled and patted his shoulder:
“Don’t worry, young man, escaping back to Hell…makes things easier…”
- Writer
