CHAPTER 8- MY FIRST WISH IS FOR MY DEAD LOVER TO COME BACK TO ME.

Eunice stepped into the grand hallway of her mansion, the sound of her heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floor. The exhaustion from her meeting weighed heavily on her, but it was nothing compared to the chaos brewing in her mind.

As she walked, a young maid approached, bowing respectfully. "Welcome, madam," the maid greeted, her voice soft and polite.

Eunice's sharp gaze flicked to the girl, and for a moment, she studied her with uncharacteristic intensity. The maid was young, with an earnest face, her posture rigid with respect. "She looks harmless enough, same as Elizabeth" Eunice thought, but the memory of Mammon's words crept back into her mind.

"You trust your little maid too much."

The accusation stung, even now. Her thoughts drifted to Elizabeth, Aurora's long-time caregiver. "Could he have been right about Elizabeth?"

Her jaw tightened. "No... I can't confront her. Not yet. I need more information first. Nevaeh will know what to do."

Eunice straightened, her expression cold and unreadable. "Tell Nevaeh to meet me in my bedroom immediately," she ordered. Without waiting for a response, she swept past the maid, her pace quick and deliberate.

Inside her bedroom, Eunice sat down on the edge of her plush bed, slipping off her heels with sharp, impatient movements. Her hands moved to unclasp her earrings, the cool metal sliding from her lobes, but her thoughts were far from the simple task at hand.

"What is happening to me?" she wondered, staring at her reflection in the ornate mirror across the room. Her features, always composed and elegant, seemed strained now, faint cracks forming in the mask of control she wore so well. "Am I losing my mind? First he appears like a thief, now a..... witch?"

The words lingered in her mind, and she thought of Mammon's chilling last statement: "Call my name if you have a wish."

Eunice scoffed softly, the sound bitter. "A witch," she muttered under her breath. "Is that what he is? A damned witch?"

She let out a small, dry laugh, shaking her head as if amused by the absurdity. "Does he think I'm stupid or something?" she said to herself, her tone laced with disdain.

She stood abruptly, pulling down the zipper of her dress. The fabric fell away, slipping from her shoulders and pooling at her feet in a soft whisper of silk. She stepped out of it, her long, toned legs catching the faint light of the chandelier above.

Her movements were slow and deliberate, as if undressing might also strip away the burden of her thoughts. She reached behind her back, unclasping her lace bra and letting it fall. Her reflection stared back at her from the mirror—flawless skin, curves that seemed sculpted by design, and a presence that exuded both power and vulnerability.

Yet, for all her beauty, she felt hollow. "All of this" , she thought, running a hand lightly down her arm, " and still I'm being toyed with like a pawn in someone else's game."

She reached for her silk robe, draping it over her shoulders before padding barefoot toward the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind her, and she turned on the shower, letting the room fill with a warm, steamy haze.

The spray of water hit her skin, soothing the tension in her muscles as it cascaded down her back. Eunice tipped her head forward, letting the droplets fall over her face, but her mind refused to quiet.

"What if he's right? What if Elizabeth isn't who I think she is?"

She shook her head, letting out a frustrated sigh. "No. Elizabeth has been with me for years. She raised Aurora. She's practically family."

But the doubt lingered. "I can't ignore it. If this witch knew something... if there's any truth to his words, I'll need proof."

Her hands moved to smooth her wet hair back from her face, the water mingling with the faint chill of her unease.

"Call my name if you have a wish."

The memory of Mammon's deep, smooth voice sent a shiver through her, and not just from the cold.

"What would I even wish for?" she whispered aloud, her voice barely audible over the sound of the water. Would he really leave me alone after granting them? Or would it only bring more chaos into my life?

She exhaled heavily, bracing one hand against the shower wall. The steam swirled around her, and for a moment, she allowed herself to imagine the impossible.

Gabriel.

Her chest tightened at the thought. She straightened abruptly, her eyes wide with realization. Could I bring him back?

The thought was as exhilarating as it was terrifying. She shook her head quickly, grabbing a towel and wrapping it tightly around her. "No," she said firmly, stepping out of the bathroom. "That's ridiculous."

Yet, even as she dried herself and slipped back into her silk robe, the thought lingered.

Standing at the window, Eunice gazed out at the darkening horizon. The mansion grounds stretched out below her, pristine and silent, but she found no comfort in the view.

"No," she muttered under her breath, her jaw tightening. "There's no way that con artist could grant me a wish. How can I even think of something so stupid?"

Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her robe, and she bit her lower lip in frustration.

"But..." she whispered, her thoughts racing. "He can appear and disappear. He could make a vase speak..." Her brows furrowed, her nails digging into the fabric. "Hmmm..."

She groaned, throwing her head back slightly as if trying to shake the thoughts free. "Arrgh, I hate this!" she hissed, turning away from the window abruptly. "Where is that damn Nevaeh when I need him?".

Eunice lay back on the bed, her head sinking into the plush pillows as her mind spun with frustration. Her chest rose and fell with an exasperated sigh, her gaze fixed on the ornate ceiling above her. Suddenly, her eyes widened, a flicker of realization sparking in their depths.

"Of course!" she exclaimed, sitting up so abruptly that the sheets slid from her lap. "Why didn't I think of this sooner?"

Her fingers snapped in excitement as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, her silk robe billowing slightly as she stood. A sly smile crept across her lips, her movements brisk and purposeful as she crossed the room to her dresser.

Eunice grabbed her cell phone, clutching it tightly as if it were a weapon. "You'll regret making me look like a fool, Mr. Witch," she muttered under her breath, her jaw tightening.

She strode to a small table at the far end of the room, placing the phone carefully on its surface. Her fingers danced across the screen, adjusting the angle of the camera so it faced the center of the bedroom. She took a step back, assessing her work, her lips curling into a smug smirk.

"This will teach you," she whispered, her voice venomous. "Making me think I'm losing my mind? You'll see. Soon enough, you'll see what happens when you mess with me, Eunice."

Her gaze lingered on the phone for a moment longer before she turned on her heel, the silk of her robe brushing against her legs as she walked back to the bed. She lowered herself onto the mattress with deliberate grace, smoothing the fabric over her lap.

Eunice leaned back against the headboard, exhaling deeply as she pressed her palms flat against her thighs. She closed her eyes for a moment, her lips parting slightly as she muttered, "Time to prove you're real."

Her eyes snapped open, her expression sharp and determined. "Mr. Witch!" she called out, her voice echoing in the spacious room.

She scanned her surroundings, her eyes darting to the corners of the room. "Hello! Mr. Witch, you told me to summon you if I wanted!"

She waited, her breath catching in her throat as silence filled the air. Nothing. The room was utterly still, save for the faint rustling of the heavy silk curtains as the central air system quietly hummed in the background

After a few moments, Eunice groaned, throwing herself back against the pillows with a dramatic sigh. Her hand flung over her forehead as she muttered, "How could I fall for such stupid tricks?"

Her lips twisted into a bitter smile as she let out a dry laugh. "Talking to thin air like a lunatic," she said, shaking her head. "What's next? Ouija boards and candles?"

But before she could finish her thought, a low, thunderous voice cut through the stillness, making her freeze.

"I am not a witch, you ignorant woman."

Her eyes flew open, and she bolted upright, her heart pounding in her chest. She spun toward the sound, her breath hitching as her gaze landed on Mammon, his imposing figure now standing at the far side of the room.

"I am Mammon, the First Son of Satan," he said, his voice dripping with disdain as his crimson eyes bore into her.

Eunice stared, her lips parting in shock. Her fingers clutched at the fabric of her robe, and her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths.

"You're... you're not a normal... person," she stammered, the words tumbling from her lips before she could stop herself.

Mammon's gaze darkened, his expression twisting with irritation. He stepped closer, his movements smooth and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey.

"Do not refer to me as a person again, Madam," he said sharply, his voice cutting through her like a blade.

Eunice's eyes flicked briefly toward the corner where her phone rested. Mammon followed her gaze, and a slow, mocking smile spread across his lips.

"Oh, that," he said, gesturing lazily toward the phone. "The little camera setup. How stupid it looks. How... useless."

Her cheeks flared red, the heat of humiliation rising to her ears as she quickly averted her gaze. Her fingers twitched, clutching the edge of her robe as if anchoring herself. She bit her lip hard, her teeth pressing into the soft flesh in a futile attempt to mask the sinking embarrassment twisting her stomach.

"You... you knew?" she stammered, the words tumbling out in a barely audible whisper.

Her heart pounded furiously, the rhythm almost deafening in the room's oppressive stillness. "Great. Just great. He's probably standing there, looking down on me like I'm some clueless fool. Her jaw tightened, and a sharp resolve sparked in her eyes as she stole a glance at him. But trust me... I'll make you pay for making a fool out of me. You'll regret this, Witch!!."

Mammon tilted his head, his smirk widening. "Of course I knew," he said with a chuckle, his tone dripping with mockery. "What, did you think you could outwit me with that pathetic little gadget?"

Eunice's eyes flicked to the phone, her stomach twisting as humiliation bubbled beneath the surface.

Mammon took a slow step closer, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. "I've slipped through shadows, walked unseen through walls, and crossed dimensions humans can't even fathom," he said, his voice a low, taunting rumble.

"And you thought a phone would record me?" he said, his smirk twisting into something almost pitying.

 "You don't look clever, Eunice. You look desperate. And maybe... a little crazy."

Her jaw clenched, her nails digging into her palms as his words sunk in. Anger bubbled in her chest, and she sucked in a sharp breath, her nostrils flaring.

"Where is that damn Nevaeh when I need him?" she hissed under her breath, her glare snapping back to Mammon.

Mammon raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "I wonder what's racing through that sharp little mind of yours right now," he said, his tone dripping with amusement. "Still clinging to the hope that your guard dog will come barking in to save you?"

For a moment, Eunice froze, her lips parting as a single thought blared in her mind "What... what did he just say?"

Her chest tightened, confusion flickering in her wide eyes. But the haze didn't last long. In an instant, it was replaced by a surge of raw fury that shot through her like a lightning strike. Her grip on her robe tightened, her knuckles whitening as her teeth clenched.

"Oh, you bastard," she thought, her gaze narrowing on him. "You'll regret this. Not just a quick death—no, I'll make sure you suffer. You'll beg before the end."

Her breath came fast and shallow, her mind flooding with vivid, dark thoughts. "Oh, I can think of a million ways to make you suffer," she seethed inwardly, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. "You think you're untouchable? A god? I'll show you there is no god here but me... you witch." "I'll watch as you break, Mammon. Slowly. Painfully." she muttered.

But then, she stopped. Her chest heaved, the air catching in her lungs as a new thought crept into her mind. Slowly, deliberately, she drew in a deep breath, letting it fill her chest before exhaling in a measured sigh.

Her shoulders relaxed, and she leaned back slightly, her fingers loosening their grip. Her expression shifted, the sharp lines of anger melting into something unnervingly calm. She draped her arm over the headboard, her posture radiating control. It was as if every ounce of fear or rage had been extinguished in an instant.

She tilted her head, her gaze locking onto Mammon's with a quiet, unreadable intensity. Her voice, when it came, was steady and cold. "I have three questions."

Mammon's crimson eyes narrowed slightly, his curiosity visibly piqued. For a moment, he simply stared at her, his expression unreadable. "She's up to something," he thought, the corners of his lips twitching upward in a faint smirk. "Just a second ago, she was throwing daggers at me with those deadly eyes, ready to explode. And now... this?"

He tilted his head, studying her carefully, as if the answer to her transformation was etched somewhere in the calm she now radiated. "How does she do that? To swing from rage to this eerie composure in a breath... She's no ordinary woman. No, this one's different."

A flicker of amusement danced across his face as another thought slithered into his mind, unbidden but undeniable. "I think I'm in love."

The smirk spread wider, slow and deliberate, as he folded his arms over his chest. "You may ask," he said finally, his tone smooth, his words laced with growing intrigue. "If you promise to make your wishes."

Eunice turned her head slightly, her sharp eyes meeting his. "I promise," she said coolly, the flicker of a smirk ghosting across her lips.

Her expression didn't falter as she asked, her tone sharp and demanding, "Who was the little girl who called me out on the night of my auction?"

Mammon blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the directness of her question. He chuckled softly, regaining his composure. "A little girl?" he echoed, his tone mockingly incredulous. "That must have been your imagination."

For a second, Eunice's calm cracked. Her brow furrowed, and she leaned forward slightly, her voice rising. "That's not it!" she snapped, her grip tightening on the edge of the bed. "I heard the same voice from the vase the other day."

Mammon's eyes lingered on Eunice for a moment, his smirk fading as he tilted his head, almost as if studying her. Then, with a deliberate slowness, he looked away, his gaze wandering briefly as if lost in thought. When he turned back to her, a wide, wicked smile spread across his face, sharp and cutting.

"You sell children for money," he said, his tone soft but laced with venom, each word landing like a slap. He paused, savoring the moment before continuing, "Don't you think that voice might have belonged to the ghost of one of the dead ones?"

The statement hit her like a blow, her breath catching in her throat as her body jolted upright. "What?" she choked out, her voice barely audible, disbelieving. Her chest tightened as she stared at him, trying to process what she'd just heard.

Her legs moved before her mind could catch up, pushing her up from the bed as anger and disbelief surged through her veins. "He knows? How does he know?!" her mind screamed, each thought louder and more frantic than the last.

Her lips parted as she stared at him, shock flickering across her face. "Of course he knows," she thought bitterly, forcing herself to breathe. "Why should that surprise me? He's no normal man—no, he's not even a man. But one thing's for sure..." Her jaw tightened, her eyes narrowing as she muttered under her breath, "He's not just a pervert; he's an annoying stalker."

Mammon's smirk deepened as if reading her thoughts, but she wasn't done yet. Her voice dropped, low and dangerous. "What do you mean by 'I sell kids'?"

Her sharp gaze locked onto him, her movements deliberate as she strode to the corner of the room where the phone sat, recording everything. "I can't have this conversation with him while this is still running. Not even in a place like this," she thought, her lips pressing into a thin line.

Her fingers brushed against the device, hesitating for a moment before she tapped to stop the recording. The faint click felt louder than it should have in the heavy silence of the room.

Mammon's gaze followed her every move, his smirk deepening as his arms folded casually across his chest. "How thoughtful of you," he drawled, his tone laced with mock appreciation. "A private audience with me? I'm flattered."

Eunice straightened, her grip tightening briefly on the phone before she set it down. Her shoulders squared as she turned to face him again. "This man," she muttered under her breath, her voice just loud enough for him to catch, "isn't just inhuman. He's more like a curse."

Mammon tilted his head, his smirk unwavering. "Oh, now that's a compliment," he said, his tone laced with amusement. "I'd be hurt if you called me anything less."

"Tch"

with an annoyed look Eunice took a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling as she forced herself to regain her composure. Her sharp gaze locked onto Mammon's, her voice steady but simmering with defiance. "No. They wouldn't. They would never hurt my precious children," she said, her tone cutting through the tense air.

Mammon's smirk widened, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. "Precious?" he repeated, the word dripping with mockery. "You're rotten to the core, Eunice," he said with a low chuckle, the sound sharp and grating.

She bristled but held her ground, her fists clenching at her sides.

Mammon stepped closer, his smile darkening. "So tell me, Madam," he continued smoothly, his voice dipping into a venomous drawl, "what do you think your men do to the noisy ones?"

Eunice's breath hitched for just a moment, but she quickly straightened her back, her jaw tightening as she glared at him. "I don't know," she said curtly, her voice tinged with defensive irritation. "Maybe they send them back. That's none of my business."

Mammon let out a loud, mocking laugh, the sound echoing off the walls. "Send them back?" he repeated, his amusement spilling over. "Oh, Eunice, you really are something." His laughter subsided into a sly grin as he leaned in slightly. "Believe me, your spot in my father's house is well reserved."

Eunice stiffened, her mind racing as she processed his words. "His father", she thought, her stomach twisting uneasily.

Her fists clenched at her sides, her fury bubbling to the surface. She took a sharp breath again, forcing herself to steady.

"What is your next question, Madam?" Mammon prompted, his voice smooth and coaxing, the mockery still lingering beneath.

Eunice's fingers curled tightly against the silk of her robe, her knuckles whitening as she steadied herself. For a moment, she didn't respond, her gaze locked on his, unblinking and unwavering. Then, she leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping into a sharp, deliberate tone that cut through the tension in the room.

"Will you leave me alone if I make all three wishes?"

Mammon's smirk softened, though it never entirely disappeared. He leaned back slightly, his arms crossing over his chest as he studied her, a faint flicker of intrigue passing across his face. He tapped a single finger against his bicep, the motion slow and measured, as if weighing her question.

After a moment, he inclined his head ever so slightly, his tone firm and confident. "Yes," he said, his voice steady and deliberate. "That's a promise."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final.

Eunice's jaw tightened, her gaze flicking over him, searching for a crack in his composure, some sign that he might be lying. But his expression remained infuriatingly composed, his crimson eyes glinting with something unreadable. She straightened her back, her expression as stoic as ever, though her mind whirled.

But even as she sat tall and defiant, the weight of her next question pressed heavily on her chest. Her gaze dropped to her lap, her hands tightening around the folds of her robe as a wave of sadness washed over her. Her breaths came slow and deliberate, each one heavier than the last. Memories flickered unbidden through her mind—images of a face she could never forget, a voice she hadn't heard in years.

Her throat tightened, and for a moment, she hesitated. "Just ask," she thought, steeling herself against the emotions threatening to rise.

She cleared her throat, lifting her head to meet Mammon's piercing gaze. Her voice trembled as she asked, "Can I wish for the dead to return?"

The question hung in the air like a thunderclap.

Mammon's smirk faltered, his body stiffening as his crimson eyes widened ever so slightly. For the first time, his confident mask cracked, revealing a flicker of genuine surprise. He blinked, his lips parting slightly as if struggling to process what he'd just heard.

"What... did you say?" he asked, his voice lower, almost disbelieving.

Eunice's jaw tightened. Her sadness was quickly overtaken by the cold steel of her resolve. She straightened her back, her gaze never wavering. "You heard me," she said, her voice sharper now, demanding. "I will not repeat myself."

A tense silence followed, broken only by the faint sound of Mammon exhaling sharply. His expression slowly shifted, his features softening into a smile—a strange, unsettling smile.

"Well," he began, his tone smooth but laced with intrigue, "yes, I can bring back the dead, if that is your wish." His smirk returned, wider than before, but his eyes held something darker—a glimmer of curiosity... or perhaps forewarning.

Eunice's breath caught in her throat, her fingers instinctively tightening around the edges of her robe. "Can he really bring him back?" she wondered, the weight of her own question pressing heavily on her chest. Her heart thudded painfully as memories began to surface—memories she had fought desperately to bury for years, now bubbling to the surface like a long-buried secret clawing its way free.

The image of Gabriel's face flickered in her mind, followed by the sound of his laugh, so vivid it was as though he were standing right before her. Her heart clenched, the flood of emotions pulling her into a place she hadn't visited in so long.

--- (Flashback begins) ---

Eunice's first memory of Gabriel was anything but romantic. It was during her third week at Saint Delphine's Academy, an exclusive private high school where privilege was the currency of choice. She was sitting in the library, nose buried in an advanced chemistry textbook, hoping to make sense of a particularly tricky equation. The soft murmur of students studying was interrupted by a loud, mocking voice.

"Wow, look at the brainiac," a boy sneered. "You solving the mysteries of the universe over there, or just figuring out how to look even nerdier?"

Eunice's shoulders stiffened, but she didn't look up. "Ignore them," she thought, her fingers tightening around the edges of her book. "They're not worth it."

But the voice grew closer, the words dripping with amusement. "Maybe she's building a machine to turn us all into her personal servants."

The laughter that followed made her blood boil. She glanced up to see two boys standing across the table. One, with messy brown hair and a cocky grin, was Gabriel. The other, taller and leaner with an easy, lopsided smile, was Nevaeh.

"Leave me alone," she snapped, her voice sharp but controlled. "Don't you have something better to do?"

"Not really," Gabriel replied, pulling out a chair and dropping into it with casual arrogance. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as if studying her. "What's your name, Brainiac?"

"I'm not answering that," she said curtly, snapping her book shut and glaring at him.

"Bet it's something super fancy," Nevaeh chimed in, his voice lighter but no less teasing. "Like... Lady Eunice von Nerdington."

Gabriel snorted, and the two dissolved into laughter.

That was the moment Eunice decided she hated them both.

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The weeks that followed were a relentless barrage of teasing. Gabriel would casually drop pencils near her desk just to interrupt her focus, and Nevaeh made a habit of dramatically whispering "Lady Nerdington" whenever he passed her in the hallway. She pretended their antics didn't bother her, but every smirk and comment left her seething.

It wasn't until the incident at the library that things began to shift.

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It had started like any other day. Eunice was at her usual spot, engrossed in her studies, when Gabriel and Nevaeh walked in. She groaned inwardly, bracing herself for another round of mockery.

"Hey, Brainiac!" Gabriel called out, waving a sheet of paper. "Got an assignment for you."

"I'm not your tutor," she shot back without looking up.

"No, but you're a genius," he said, sliding into the seat across from her. "And I really need help with this problem set."

Eunice frowned, glancing at him suspiciously. He seemed... sincere. Gabriel was many things—annoying, cocky, infuriating—but sincere wasn't one of them.

"What's the catch?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"No catch," he said, holding up his hands. "Just a desperate guy trying not to fail physics."

She hesitated, scanning his face for any signs of deceit. For once, there were none.

"Fine," she said grudgingly, snatching the paper from his hand. "But only because I can't stand watching someone butcher basic equations."

As she worked through the problems, explaining each step in clipped tones, Gabriel watched her intently. For the first time, there was no teasing, no smirking—just quiet focus.

"You're really smart, you know that?" he said after a while, his voice softer than she'd ever heard it.

Eunice paused, her pen hovering over the page. She glanced up, meeting his gaze. There was something genuine in his expression that made her chest tighten.

"Yeah, well," she muttered, looking away. "Try not to waste my time next time."

Gabriel grinned. "Noted."

From that day on, something shifted between them. The teasing didn't stop entirely, but it became gentler, more playful. And soon, Eunice found herself looking forward to their banter.

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Nevaeh, however, remained a thorn in her side.

"Why are you always here?" she asked one afternoon, narrowing her eyes at Gabriel as he leaned against the library steps.

"Why are you always here?" Nevaeh, standing right next to him shot back, his lopsided grin firmly in place.

Eunice huffed, crossing her arms. "Gabriel doesn't need a chaperone, you know."

"Yeah, but I'm not here for Gabriel," He said, his tone teasing. "I'm here for the free entertainment. Watching you get all flustered? Priceless."

Eunice glared at him, her jaw tightening. "You're insufferable."

"And you're fun to annoy," he said with a wink.

Despite herself, Eunice couldn't help the small, reluctant smile that tugged at her lips. She hated that Nevaeh had a way of disarming her defenses, but over time, she came to see him as more than just an irritant. He was steady, loyal, and—much to her annoyance—kind.

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Eunice's relationships with Gabriel and Nevaeh defined her youth. Gabriel brought light and joy into her life, a love that felt like a firework bursting in the night sky. Nevaeh was her anchor, the quiet strength she hadn't known she needed.

But as she sat in the present, staring at Mammon, those memories burned. They weren't just recollections—they were wounds, raw and unhealed, tearing at the edges of her soul. The image of Gabriel's smile flickered in her mind, vivid and sharp, like a blade.

"I want him back," she thought, the words echoing in her chest like a desperate prayer. "No matter the cost."

"MY FIRST WISH IS FOR MY DEAD LOVER TO COME BACK TO ME."