Kayden slowly shook his head and answered in a heavy tone where frustration blended with irritation.
"They still haven't given us an official assignment… we're waiting."
George sat down on the nearby chair after the strange burst of restless movement that had overtaken the brothers finally subsided. Moments later, Mavilda and Mary entered carrying glasses of orange juice—an obvious attempt to restore some balance to the chaotic atmosphere.
"Gentlemen… do you need a vacation?" George asked, lifting his glass as he looked at them all.
A brief silence followed. No one answered; they merely exchanged tired glances laced with muted sarcasm. George continued in a calm voice,
"Kayden, you've only just recovered, yet you haven't allowed yourself any real rest. Henry, you're drowning in your studies and neglecting your body. And you…" he gestured toward Colton with a faint smile, "I think you're the real victim between them. It's not often you get to observe twins up close."
Colton nodded seriously, agreeing without hesitation, while Kayden shot him a sideways glance full of dry mockery.
George stood up and lightly patted their shoulders, then spoke with a practical smile.
"So… the end of this month? Or the next one? Which works better for you?"
Before leaving, he threw out his final remark with a tone that carried unmistakable pride.
"I'll ask Roger as well. In any case, his opinion is worth more than all of yours combined… he's the best—unlike you."
George took his glass of juice and gently ushered his mother out of the room, leaving behind three faces weighed down by an odd, lingering silence.
After Henry returned to his room, Kayden left with Colton.
As he passed by Mavilda, Kayden spoke respectfully, "I'll walk with him for a bit."
She nodded. "Don't be gone too long…" then added in a lowered voice, "Don't be late… I'll be waiting for you."
"I won't be," Kayden replied quickly.
Night had draped its dense curtain over the city. The air was heavy with humidity, carrying within it a rotten stench, as though it rose from deep beneath the earth. In the narrow alleys, silence reigned—but it wasn't a comforting one; it felt more like a faint whisper echoing between ancient walls.
As they walked, a hazy thought crept into Kayden's mind: Kayden was afraid of Mavilda.
He smiled bitterly to himself. Mavilda's method of upbringing was not far removed from military academies—unyielding discipline, strict order, and commands that allowed no discussion.
Colton's flat, emotionless voice cut through his thoughts.
"We're starting the hunt… officially."
Kayden lifted his gaze toward the timeworn buildings—cracked walls, decaying wooden balconies on the verge of collapse, and exhausted faces peering from dimly lit windows.
He raised a handkerchief to his nose, trying to block the foul smell that had seeped in. Still, it felt as though it clung to his breath, as if it were more than just an ordinary odor.
"Make it a clean hunt…" Kayden murmured softly, without turning toward Colton.
Colton produced a dark-colored cloak, long enough to cover the head and body down to the feet, and handed it to his master.
As Kayden put it on, he felt a weight settle upon his shoulders, as though the fabric carried another identity—wrapping around him and transforming him into someone else.
A small smile appeared on Kayden's composed face.
"I like the color… I'll keep it."
Colton nodded in agreement, as usual without argument.
"Do whatever you want."
Before entering the old apartment building, Colton paused slightly and looked at Kayden.
"My lord… I ask that you limit yourself to observation this time."
"What do you mean?" Kayden asked in a low voice, turning toward Colton, who was smiling as his eyes widened slightly.
Colton shrugged indifferently.
"You might even participate."
Kayden didn't reply. He didn't need words; he simply remained silent as they ascended together, his eyes fixed upward.
They stopped in front of an old apartment door, its paint peeling, a suffocating smell of dampness seeping from beneath it. For a brief moment, Kayden thought Colton would knock… or kick it down violently.
But what happened next was far beyond his expectations.
Suddenly, Colton reached out and grabbed his master's arm, pulling him with calculated gentleness before stepping forward. There was no sound of impact, no resistance—only a cold, sticky sensation swallowing the body whole.
They passed through the wall together as though it were a curtain of dark water. In an instant, Kayden left the solidity of stone behind and stepped into the old apartment without resistance.
Kayden froze in place. He hadn't expected this kind of ability. Slowly, he sat down on a rickety wooden chair, its dull creak echoing through the dark room reeking of rot. His eyes moved between Colton and the surroundings, struggling to comprehend what was happening.
Moments later, a thin man emerged from the bathroom—his skin pale, his eyes black like a hollow void. He took a few slow steps toward the room… then stopped dead.
Before him, Colton had abandoned his human form.
His arms stretched unnaturally, fingers elongating into twisted claws. His skin turned deathly pale, his eyes glowing red with a demonic light that dripped with threat. A smile spread across his face—one that held nothing human. It was like a裂, a split carved into a fractured visage.
When Colton spoke, his voice was deep, like an echo rising from the depths of the earth.
"My lord dislikes noise."
The man stumbled backward, his body trembling, refusing to obey his will. His lips moved; a broken plea barely escaped.
"Please… no…"
Colton reached out and seized his neck effortlessly, lifting him as if he were an empty doll. He began murmuring indistinct words, and with them the space around them trembled—the walls sweating moisture like black blood, the air growing so heavy that Kayden felt as though the room were collapsing in on itself.
Then something happened that Kayden hadn't anticipated.
Colton's face split open.
A deep tore through his features, and from within it emerged another mouth—wide, dark, gaping. No eyes. No features. Nothing but a void that devoured everything around it. It was as though another face was growing from within him, starving, draining life itself from the emptiness.
The man gasped one final breath… then his soul was dragged inward. His eyes went dark in an instant, and he collapsed like a hollow doll, utterly meaningless.
Colton sat on the edge of the bed, slowly wiping his mouth. Then he turned to his master and said calmly,
"Thank you for accompanying me, my lord."
Kayden remained silent for a moment, his eyes still dissecting what he had just witnessed. Then he asked slowly,
"How many faces do you have? That was the most grotesque thing I've seen in my life—after the holes."
Colton answered without hesitation, as if stating a simple fact.
"Two. My handsome face—the one you first met. And the other? It only appears when I'm hungry. It isn't a real face… just a massive mouth that pulls in whatever life remains. Ugly. That's why we hide it. Thank you for the compliment. And what do you mean by 'holes'? Is that a disease?"
Kayden's eyebrows lifted slightly. Inside him, a question he couldn't suppress surfaced' Why does he speak like this?'
He blinked several times before answering, as though his mind refused to accept reality. Then he muttered foolishly,
"The holes… they're… just look at his face and imagine an uncountable number of holes."
Colton turned toward the body and stared at it for a long moment. His features tightened with sharp focus. After a few seconds, his jaw twitched slightly as he spoke slowly.
"That… is utterly disgusting."
Seconds later, Colton stood, gradually returning to his human form. He grabbed his master's arm and pulled him along in heavy silence.
Then he stopped abruptly, his eyes gleaming with cold clarity.
"When he's buried… I'll take his eyes."
Kayden turned his head toward him, adjusting the hood of his cloak.
"Why didn't you take them immediately?"
Colton smiled faintly, without warmth.
"Because you asked us not to leave a trace. And because the area is boiling with demonic activity… something may be summoned by tomorrow. We don't want to cause further trouble."
The next morning, Kayden woke up weighed down by exhaustion.
Memories of the previous night crept back slowly. He sat staring into nothingness, muttering to himself,
"I didn't expect the hunt… to be this easy."
He rose sluggishly and began putting on his formal clothes, as though an ordinary day awaited him—despite the fact that the night before had been anything but ordinary.
After breakfast, Kayden asked about Henry and was told he had gone to the university to submit some papers.
Mary handed him a bundle of letters, but one caught his attention more than the rest. It was from Ayrton. Only a few words were written:
"Come to this address."
Kayden didn't hesitate. He took a carriage, and as it veered away from familiar roads and plunged into the old alleys, the features of the place stirred a subtle tremor within him—until he finally realized where he had arrived.
He breathed in slowly, his breath mingling with heavy memories.
"My perfect crime… damn it."
Kayden stepped down from the carriage and raised his handkerchief to his nose, as though the ancient stench still clung to the walls. Before him stood the same building—the one that had witnessed the final breath of a man no one would ever remember.
Kayden did not enter it immediately. Instead, he crossed to the building opposite. There, on the bare rooftop beneath a gray sky, he found Ayrton waiting. He didn't move, as if his body were part of the scenery itself, his eyes fixed on the apartment across the way.
Their gazes met briefly.
Kayden offered a quiet greeting, but what caught his attention wasn't the response—it was Ayrton himself. Today, he looked different. More serious. There was no trace of his usual playful smile or familiar sarcasm. Only dense silence and a sharp, unwavering stare.
Ayrton tilted his head toward an open window in the opposite apartment.
In a low voice, he said, "Look there… that man is trying to summon a demon. But he won't succeed."
Kayden narrowed his eyes, watching intently. Inside, he saw the man bend over the floor, drawing strange circles and symbols with a trembling hand.
Kayden murmured softly, as if unwilling to disturb the stillness of the place, "And how do you know that? Teach me."
"There is a fundamental difference between summoning a catastrophe… and summoning a demon."
Ayrton spoke slowly, then took a deep breath, as though preparing to explain a heavy lesson.
"It's true that both begin with a blood ritual. But the difference lies in the core of the rite itself. A catastrophe is summoned by drawing clockwise. A demon… is the exact opposite."
He raised a finger and traced an invisible circle in the air, as if the unseen lines were carved into his memory.
"Then there is the incantation. Catastrophes bring with them a universal curse—death, corrupted energy that devours the place and everything within it indiscriminately. Demons, however—dangerous as they are—their presence is more focused. More… refined. If given the choice, I'd rather summon a demon. At least it can serve me, not curse me along with everything else."
He fell silent for a moment, his voice dropping as though the next words required preparation. But Kayden interrupted him with a question.
"Where do demons come from?" Kayden asked, his tone hesitant, not bothering to hide its tremor.
Ayrton turned toward him slowly, stared at him for a long moment, then replied in a deep voice,
"About three hundred years ago… the Great Saint appeared. Chaos was consuming everything back then. The two worlds overlapped, spirits were torn apart, and monsters emerged from the depths of the human essence itself. But in my personal opinion—humans are more demonic than demons themselves."
He lowered his voice further, until it was almost a whisper.
"The Saint separated the worlds… sealed the gate and imposed restrictions. Demons were cast into their underworld, and we remained here—in a severed, distorted world. But a safer one."
A fleeting smile crossed his lips, devoid of warmth.
"But for those who crave power… or yearn for demonic shadows, that decision was one of the worst ever made."
Kayden nodded slowly, remembering his first encounter with Colton—how desperate he had been, willing to form a contract by any means necessary, like a drowning man clutching at straw.
"But demons…" Kayden muttered hesitantly, thinking aloud, "they're incredibly powerful. Aware. They hide among us. Most of the time they don't have horns or wings… just calm faces and familiar conversations."
He paused, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"They're here now… walking among us."