Mister

The inside of the tower had a rather peculiar appearance. The floors were practically identical, with only a few torches and the occasional window on the walls bringing light to the place. The single corridor was shaped like a ring, circling the entire circumference of the tower, while the bathrooms and bedrooms were all inside the inner walls — a kind of second tower enclosed within the ring-shaped corridor.

There were numerous wooden doors scattered along the inner tower, a detail that rookies had to be particularly careful with, as they all looked exactly the same. And well... let's just say you didn't want to open the wrong door by accident.

Around the inner walls were the staircases leading to the next floor, and without much thought, Demon headed straight for them.

Demon wasn't disturbed for the rest of the way to his room. He had to climb the stairs for a while since his room was on the third and final floor of the tower — another privilege of being the best employee in the company.

Most people living here slept in bunk beds in the common dormitory on the first floor, and considering they were surrounded by dangerous individuals, that was definitely not a place where one could sleep peacefully with both eyes closed.

For employees who stood out a little, they were promoted to the second-floor rooms. Four people shared a room — still not exactly safe, but better than sleeping in a dormitory with dozens of others. At least they had their own beds now, no more bunks.

And for the best employees, the most profitable and professional ones, they had the honor of staying on the third floor of the tower. The rooms were larger and more spacious, even having things like desks, wardrobes, and other personal furnishings. But even on the third floor, two people shared a room — that was the rule.

Well, that rule had one exception. A single exception. The best of the best employees could have a room all to themselves, and yes, Demon was the best of the best in this company. That meant he had a suite just for himself. With a really nice bed and a private bathroom — a place where he could take a dump without worrying about getting stabbed out of nowhere.

How cool is that?

Pretty damn cool if you ask me.

Demon stopped in front of one of the doors on the third floor. The door to his wonderful room. He reached into his pocket to grab his key when he noticed a package on the ground.

'Looks like they already prepared my uniform for tomorrow's event...'

Without thinking too much about it, Demon pulled the key from his pocket and unlocked his room door. He pushed the package inside with his foot before stepping in and closing the door behind him.

His room wasn't exactly luxurious; in fact, it was quite simple. Not much space, just a single bed, a small desk, and a bookshelf with a few books. There was also a door leading to a modest bathroom with a toilet, a shower, a sink, and a small mirror.

It didn't seem like much, but who needed more than that in a room? To Demon, no luxury was greater than having his own bathroom and being able to take a dump in peace.

Demon paid no attention to the package on the floor. Instead, he grabbed the cloth bag he had received from Giovanni and placed it on his desk before heading straight for the bathroom to do what had been on his mind the whole time.

Take a dump.

...

Right after flushing, Demon stood up feeling several kilos lighter. That sense of freedom and power, only achieved after taking a satisfying dump completely naked and in peace, filled him, making the boy show a rare smile.

Without wasting time, Demon headed straight for the shower to clean up. It might not seem like much, but having a flushing toilet and a working shower was actually rare in this era. But this wasn't just his privilege — these amenities had already been installed in the tower before the company started using it as employee housing, so you could call it a gift from Fate to Demon and the other workers.

But well, even Fate didn't let Demon forget his low status, as the only temperature available in the shower was freezing as hell.

Either way, Demon didn't take long in the bath. The only thing that really needed extra care was his freshly acquired wound on his chest. He couldn't deny the stinging pain when he rubbed soap over the injury from the spoiled brat's whip, but luckily, that was all.

Thanks to the ragged cloth covering his body at the time, and the brat's lack of strength, the whip had only cut Demon's skin. It was still a bother, but at least it wouldn't interfere much with his performance at tomorrow's event.

Demon then dried himself off and stood in front of the small mirror above the sink. First, he looked at his face. Honestly speaking, he was good-looking — not as stunning as Giovanni, but still handsome.

He had a symmetrical face, though still a bit youthful, healthy pale skin free of blemishes, a straight, narrow nose, and a nice smile — though it rarely appeared on his face. The only things that weren't particularly pleasant to look at were his messy, unkempt black hair and his large, dark eyes, which for some reason unsettled people. It wasn't uncommon for him to hear comments about his eyes showing no emotion or that they didn't even seem like they belonged to him.

But well, who cares what people say?

He then examined his body. For a seventeen-year-old, he was quite athletic, with well-defined and proportional muscles. However, what was truly remarkable for someone his age was the number of scars covering his body.

Small scars scattered all over, a few medium-sized ones, and some larger ones, most of them concentrated on his torso and arms. But Demon paid no mind to his scars — they were just part of the job, after all.

His focus now was on tending to his wound, which had yet to become a scar. He grabbed a jar from the sink — a medicinal ointment he usually used to treat his injuries. He wasn't sure if it was the best ointment for this, but it was the only one he had, so he scooped some with his fingers and gently rubbed it onto the wound.

After finishing with the ointment, he picked up a roll of bandages, also kept on the sink, and wrapped a simple dressing over the wound to prevent the ointment or blood from further staining his clothes. Demon then left the bathroom and put on some clothes. He only had to wear that old rag when going out to the city, so for now, he dressed in normal clothes — a plain white shirt and comfortable black pants.

With that, Demon was ready to relax and enjoy the gift he had received from Giovanni. But just as he was about to reach his desk, he heard two knocks on his door, followed by a somewhat timid voice:

"Mister Demon, are you there?"

'Mister Demon? What the fuck?!'

Demon nearly shouted in surprise. This was the first time in his entire life that someone had called him "Mister" and he knew very well that he neither had the age nor the status for that. This meant something was definitely wrong with whoever was on the other side of the door. But that didn't stop Demon's curiosity from wanting to know who it was.

He grabbed a shard of glass he kept on his desk for security and mentally prepared himself to kill if necessary. He then walked silently to the door, positioning himself beside the handle, but instead of opening it, he spoke in a firm, loud voice:

"What do you want?"

It seemed like Demon's voice either alerted or startled the person outside, as it took a moment before a response came:

"I-I just wanted to meet you, sir."

Hearing the voice again, Demon was certain he didn't recognize the person outside. But still, why the hell would someone in the tower want to meet him? And how did they even know where his room was? Those were things he didn't yet understand.

After thinking for a few moments, Demon decided to see for himself who the hell was on the other side of the door. He grasped the handle and cracked it open just enough to create a small gap through which he could look.

But what Demon saw made him unconsciously lower his guard a little. A few steps from the door, a teenage boy who seemed slightly younger than Demon stood there, looking eagerly at the narrow opening of the door.

The boy was a little over one meter and seventy centimeters, with a slim build, brown hair, blue eyes, and an innocent face. He was also wearing a green wool sweater and beige pants. Demon had to restrain himself from showing his surprise — this was the first time he had seen someone with such an innocent appearance inside this tower.

After seeing the boy, whom Demon could swear had been raised by his grandmother, his concern that they would end up fighting diminished significantly. Demon slipped his hand holding the glass shard into his pocket but remained prepared to strike the boy's throat at any moment. He then fully opened the door, making himself visible to the boy.

He then asked in a firm voice:

"Who are you?"

The boy looked at Demon with a timid expression and stammered a bit before managing to speak:

"M-My name is Luke, sir. I'm new here."

Once again, Demon had to do his best to hide his surprise. He really couldn't believe that the boy in front of him was one of the rookies. It wasn't unusual for young people to be employees — Demon himself had entered this place as a young child — but it was just that... The attitude, the appearance, the voice, the clothes — everything about this Luke simply made it seem like he wasn't cut out for this job.

Moreover, the mere fact that Luke had come knocking on his door just to "meet" him was already a huge sign that he wasn't born for this. Not that Demon cared about the boy or anything — he would probably forget Luke's name and existence in a few days anyway.

Demon noticed that Luke's expression was one of someone trying to gather courage to say something, so he remained silent, waiting to hear what this boy had to say to him.

After a few seconds, Luke looked Demon in the eyes and spoke with a determined voice:

"Mister Demon, I am your biggest fan!"

This time, Demon couldn't hide his surprise. After hearing Luke's words, Demon widened his eyes, raised his eyebrows, and opened his mouth. Not knowing what to say, he let out only a single sound:

"Huh?"