Chapter 73: The Curse of La Llorona - The Firm's First Case!
Much later, as night fully descended, the streetlights outside cast a dim, amber glow through the windows.
Edward stretched, yawned, and walked out of Jennifer's bedroom.
He felt like he'd just gone twelve rounds in the ring—body exhausted, but spirit thoroughly satisfied.
He glanced back at the figure wrapped in blankets on the bed, only a tangle of dark hair visible, and a smug smile played across his lips.
"Still got it," he muttered, voice full of victor's pride.
However, at that moment, Edward's instincts suddenly flared.
A strange sensation rippled from an unknown dimension.
Like someone had rung a doorbell deep within his soul.
The office... someone's there?
Edward's expression turned serious instantly. His secret base, just established yesterday, already had its first "visitor" today?
Without hesitation, he walked to Jennifer's bedroom door, silently thinking Devil May Cry.
He gripped the doorknob and turned it gently.
The door opened.
Beyond wasn't Jennifer's hallway anymore, but the independent dimensional space he'd personally designed—filled with modern aesthetics and controlled chaos.
Soft ambient lighting streamed down from the ethereal "ceiling," illuminating the massive black leather sectional, the pristine pool table, the neon-glowing Wurlitzer jukebox, and the weapon rack displaying various nightmarish trophies.
Standing in front of his spacious oak desk was a figure.
A woman, mid-thirties, dressed in a sharp business suit. But her face bore unmistakable exhaustion and anxiety.
Her eyes held confusion, fear, and bewilderment at finding herself in this impossible space.
When she saw the door open and a suspiciously young man emerge, the astonishment on her face deepened.
Edward casually closed the door, which vanished behind him as if it never existed.
He walked calmly to his desk, settled into the comfortable boss chair, crossed his legs, interlaced his fingers on the desktop, and studied the uninvited guest with an appraising gaze.
"Good evening," Edward spoke first, voice steady and mature, completely unlike an eighteen-year-old. "Welcome to my office. How did you find this place?"
The woman seemed taken aback by his professional demeanor. She paused several seconds before stammering, "I... I don't know. I was working outside today, and when I looked up, I saw a... a door that shouldn't have been there.
It had 'Devil May Cry' written on it, with a sign saying 'We solve what others can't'... I thought I was hallucinating, but it felt too real.
After I got home tonight, I couldn't stop thinking about it. Something kept pulling at me... Then I tried opening my closet door, and... and I ended up here."
Edward nodded knowingly.
So the office's mechanism worked exactly as described: "those who need it can see its door."
Convenient. Saved him from needing to advertise on Craigslist or something.
"So, ma'am, tell me what's troubling you," Edward leaned forward slightly, adopting a listening posture. "Fair warning though—my services here are highly specialized, and my fee structure is unconventional.
I only handle 'supernatural' cases, and payment might be cash, items, or favors."
At the word "supernatural," the woman's body trembled violently. The fear in her eyes intensified, but simultaneously, a spark of hope ignited.
"My name is Anna Tate-Garcia," she took a deep breath, forcing herself steady. "I'm a social worker with Child Protective Services in Los Angeles."
She paused, organizing her thoughts, then began recounting her experience in a tone suppressing immense pain and terror.
"My husband was LAPD. He died in the line of duty a few years ago... I've been raising my two kids alone." Anna's voice caught slightly. "Recently, I took on a case. A Mexican immigrant woman, Patricia Alvarez, had locked her two sons in a bedroom. When I arrived, the door and walls were covered with strange symbols—Catholic imagery, crosses, protective charms everywhere."
"I thought it was abuse," Anna's face showed deep self-reproach. "I ignored the woman's screams and warnings. I forced that door open and removed those children. Sent them to a group home downtown, thinking they'd be safe there."
Her voice began trembling: "But... that very night, those two boys... they were found... in the drainage canal near the facility... both drowned."
Edward's expression remained neutral. He simply listened quietly.
"Since then, my house... my home has had problems!" Anna's emotions finally broke through her control. "Strange things started happening! My son Chris—he was in the car, and something... some woman in white nearly scared him unconscious! My daughter Samantha saw her too—playing in the backyard, taking a bath..."
"That woman—Patricia—she hates me!" Anna's eyes were bloodshot. "She blames me for her children's deaths! She must have cursed me! She wants that... that thing to take my kids too!"
Edward finished listening, leaning back in his chair.
The situation was crystal clear. A grieving mother, through ritual or sheer force of tortured will, had invoked a powerful entity to exact revenge—children for children.
And that female spirit who specifically targeted kids, associated with water, dressed in white... in American folklore, particularly Mexican-American legend, only one entity fit those parameters.
"La Llorona," Edward spoke the name flatly. "The Weeping Woman."
Anna's head snapped up, face full of shock: "You... you know about her?"
"According to legend, a beautiful woman discovered her husband's betrayal. In a fit of rage and madness, she drowned her own two children in the river.
When sanity returned, endless regret and agony consumed her. She threw herself into the same river."
Edward explained slowly, "But her soul found no peace. She became a vengeful spirit, forever wandering near water, crying out '¿Dónde están mis hijos?'—Where are my children?
She mistakes every child she encounters for her own, and then... drags them into the water to drown them, keeping them with her forever."
Anna listened, face draining of color, body swaying.
"I'll take your case," Edward stood. "Now, take me to your house."
Night had fully fallen. An ominous silence hung over Anna's two-story suburban home in Pasadena.
Edward stood in the center of the living room, eyes closed, his enhanced perception instantly blanketing the entire house.
He could clearly sense a cold, sorrowful, and malevolent energy—like water vapor—permeating every corner.
Its source was upstairs.
Anna followed nervously behind him, clutching a crucifix so tightly her knuckles were white.
"She... she's up there, isn't she?"
"That's right." Edward opened his eyes and retrieved a small bottle from his inventory—the [Ghost-Sight Eye Drops] he'd won from the gacha.
"What is that?"
"Something that'll let you see the truth." Without further explanation, Edward tilted Anna's chin up and quickly dropped one into her left eye.
"Ah! It burns!" Anna cried out, tears streaming instantly.
"It'll pass."
Several seconds later, when the burning sensation faded, Anna trembled as she opened her eye.
Then she saw it.
At the top of the stairs on the second floor, where nothing had been moments before, stood a woman in a soaking white dress.
She was drenched head to toe. Long black hair clung to her deathly pale face. Water droplets continuously dripped from her hair and the hem of her dress, forming dark puddles on the hardwood floor.
Her head hung low, face obscured, and only suppressed, heart-wrenching sobs could be heard.
"Oh God—!" Anna let out a terrified scream.
The crying stopped abruptly.
The woman at the top of the stairs slowly raised her head.
It was a face bloated and decayed from drowning. Two black voids where eyes should be. Black, foul liquid continuously streamed from the empty sockets like tears of blood.
"Mis hijos..." (My children...)
A hoarse, distorted, inhuman whisper echoed throughout the entire house.
La Llorona locked onto Anna—or more precisely, locked onto the scent of living children in this home.
She opened her mouth, releasing a piercing shriek, and in a blur of white, lunged downward!
Anna's legs gave out. She collapsed to the floor.
At that critical moment, Edward stepped forward, blocking her path.
No fear showed on his face. He simply raised both hands calmly.
The next second, two exquisitely crafted pistols—one black, one white—materialized from thin air in his grip.
A faint silver glow shimmered along the barrels. That was the power of Purification.
Ebony and Ivory.
A cold smile curved Edward's lips as both guns aimed simultaneously at the white vengeful spirit rushing toward them.
"Your children aren't here."
"And you won't be touching my client."
BANG. BANG.
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