A trait of a Demon

At home, Jaceon and Monica sat in the dimly lit living room, their conversation tense. The rumors about their supposed relationship had spread quickly, and Monica was visibly disturbed. Her arms were crossed, her brows furrowed in frustration.

"You think this is funny, Jaceon? People actually believe we're together! My reputation is at stake," she snapped, pacing the room.

Jaceon, lounging on the couch with an amused smirk, waved a hand dismissively. "And? Let them believe it. It only works in our favor."

Monica stopped and stared at him, confused. "Our favor? How does a stupid rumor benefit us?"

Jaceon's grin widened. "Think about it. Levi has no one—he's single, isolated, and I'm his only friend. If he believes I'm in a relationship, his fear of losing me will grow. He's greedy, Monica. He wants to keep everything for himself. Including me. He'll ask me to end whatever he thinks is between us, and that attachment will make him rely on me even more."

Monica shook her head in disbelief. "You're manipulating him. This is wrong, Jaceon. You're playing with emotions like they're some kind of game."

Jaceon's eyes darkened, his playful demeanor shifting. "Everything is a game, Monica. And I don't lose."

Monica clenched her fists. "You don't care, do you? About me? About anyone? I've been your prisoner, your shadow, following you everywhere, and yet you don't even consider how this affects me. I'm a human being, Jaceon, not just a pawn in your little scheme."

For the first time, Jaceon was taken aback. Monica had never argued with him before, never raised her voice against him. He stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, he chuckled softly. "So, you finally grew a spine, huh? Interesting."

Monica scoffed. "I've always had a spine. I just never had a reason to stand up to you—until now. I won't let you drag me into your twisted plans anymore."

Jaceon's amusement faded, and he stood, closing the distance between them. His presence was overwhelming, his energy almost suffocating. "You don't have a choice, Monica. You belong to me. Don't forget that."

Monica held her ground, refusing to back down. "I may be bound to you, but that doesn't mean I have to agree with you. One day, Jaceon, you'll realize that not everything can be controlled."

A tense silence stretched between them. Then, Jaceon smirked again, but this time, there was something dangerous behind his eyes. "We'll see about that."

The argument left an unspoken tension in the air, a crack in the dynamic they had always shared. Monica knew she had crossed a line, but she didn't regret it.

For the first time, Jaceon saw something in Monica that he hadn't before—a challenge. And if there was one thing he enjoyed, it was a game worth playing.

Jaceon stood atop his usual nighttime perch, the towering rooftop that gave him a perfect view of the sprawling city below. The neon lights flickered like restless spirits, illuminating the streets filled with both innocence and corruption. A sly smile curled at the corner of his lips as he reflected on his earlier clash with Monica.

"Finally, that girl is standing up for herself. Good job, Monica," he murmured to himself, a hint of amusement in his tone. His golden eyes glowed under the moonlight as he added, "But don't cross it... I don't plan on feeding you to the devil."

His gaze shifted, scanning the streets for his next prey. He thrived in places of chaos, where shadows lurked and souls teetered on the edge of damnation. Then, amidst the moving figures, he noticed something unusual—a young girl, no older than seven, clutching a small cat to her chest. Two men trailed behind her, their steps slow and deliberate, their intentions clear.

Jaceon sighed, rolling his eyes. "Here we go again... I'm doom, not a savior. But if I ignore this, Monica will nag me to death. Damnit."

With a swift leap, he vanished from the rooftop and reappeared in the alley just as one of the men reached out for the girl. Without hesitation, Jaceon grabbed the man's wrist and twisted it sharply, earning a scream of agony. The other attacker lunged at him, but with a mere flick of his fingers, the man was hurled across the alley, crashing into a pile of crates. They scrambled away, their cowardice outweighing their vile intentions.

The little girl trembled, her cat meowing in distress. Jaceon crouched to her level, his usual smirk gone, replaced by something almost resembling concern. "What's your name, kid?"

She hesitated before whispering, "Aniya."

Jaceon sighed and scooped her up effortlessly. "Great. Now I'm stuck with a stray."

Moments later, he arrived at Monica's place and unceremoniously handed Aniya over. "Here. Help her find her parents. And let me know who the careless fools are that let her wander around alone."

Monica blinked in surprise but quickly softened at the sight of the scared little girl. "I don't have parents," Aniya whispered, gripping the fabric of Monica's sleeve.

Monica knelt before her, brushing the girl's tangled hair from her face. "Alright, Aniya, you'll spend the night here, and tomorrow, I'll take you to the police. Sound good?"

Aniya nodded hesitantly, her small fingers still clutching her cat tightly. Monica gently stroked her back, offering silent reassurance. Jaceon leaned against the wall, watching the interaction with mild curiosity.

He had always known Monica to be resilient, sharp-tongued, and quick-tempered. But here, with this small, lost girl, she was different—soft, nurturing, and heartbreakingly kind. He could see it clearly now: life had been brutally unfair to Monica, yet she had refused to let it turn her into something cruel.

Jaceon exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Tch. You're too soft, Monica."

Monica glanced at him, her gaze steady. "And you're too heartless, Jaceon."

He smirked, pushing himself off the wall. "Heartless? No, I just choose where to place my heart. And right now, it sure as hell isn't on some lost kid."

As he turned to leave, Monica called after him, "You saved her, didn't you? Even when you didn't have to. Doesn't that mean something?"

Jaceon hesitated at the door, his expression unreadable. Then, without another word, he vanished into the night, leaving Monica and Aniya behind.

Monica sighed and looked down at the little girl, who was now half-asleep, nestled against her. "Don't worry, sweetheart. You're safe now."

But deep down, she knew safety was an illusion in a world where demons walked among men, and destinies were already written in blood.