The night was unnervingly still, thick with a silence that pressed against the skin like a damp shroud. The occasional whisper of wind stirred the trees, and far-off headlights cast fleeting shadows across the empty street. But for Adam, the world was louder than ever—every echo of memory, every flash of pain and jealousy roared inside his skull.
He stood under the flickering streetlamps, jaw clenched, fists tight in the pockets of his coat. The orange glow made the rage in his eyes look like embers ready to ignite. It wasn't just the cold that chilled him—it was the ache of betrayal, the humiliation of being forgotten. Overlooked. Replaced.
JOSEPH MILLS.
The name soured his tongue. Adam had watched him rise—watched the office whisper his name with reverence. Watched her become his secretary. His Lopez. The same woman Adam had once dreamed of building a life with, now tethered to the man who never even tried.
That night, when Joseph and David confronted the demon lurking within the upper rooms of the café building, there had been another presence—unseen, unheard, yet far from uninvolved.
ADAM.
He hadn't planned to be there. He wasn't part of any grand scheme. He was simply walking past, as he often did, nursing a coffee he didn't really want, dragging his feet through another bitter evening—until he saw her.
Lopez.
She burst through the front doors, her heels clattering against the pavement, her eyes filled with a worry he'd never seen before. She didn't look back. She didn't hesitate. She just ran—straight into the building.
And something inside Adam shifted.
Worry tangled with curiosity. But beneath it all was a deeper ache, a sharper edge—What could make her run like that?Who was she running to?
He followed her inside the building without thinking, as worry clashed with instinct—something was wrong, deeply wrong!
Lopez had disappeared into the crowd, her urgency clear from the way she moved. Adam tried to call out to her, "MISS LOPEZ!" he shouted, but his voice was lost in the noise around him.
People were talking in panic, moving quickly, and no one paid him any attention. Frustration grew in his chest as he pushed through the crowd, trying to catch up. By the time he reached the stairs, she was already gone from sight.
He stood still at the bottom step, heart racing—and then he saw it.
A person's body laying on the car, like he had fallen from the upper floors and crashed onto a parked car just outside the building.
The windshield was shattered, the car alarm blaring like a mechanical scream into the night. Blood began to spread across the roof in thick, slow rivulets. Gasps and cries erupted from those nearby, their voices raw with shock and disbelief.
Adam's stomach turned. His hands went ice-cold. He had never seen death up close—not like this.
It was real.
Too real.
Part of him wanted to run, to tear himself away from this waking nightmare, to pretend none of it was happening. But another part—buried beneath the fear, laced with concern and pulsing confusion—pulled him toward the building.
He climbed the stairs slowly, each step heavier than the last. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, a relentless drum of panic.
When Adam reached the fifth floor, he paused outside the room where the loud noises had come from. The door was slightly ajar, hanging crooked on its hinges. He pushed it open a little more—and then froze.
Lopez.
She was inside.
Her body was tense, back arched, desperately trying to pull away from something that held her fast. Then Adam saw it—the demon.
It was tall, grotesquely twisted, its clawed hand wrapped tightly around her arm. Its skin looked scorched and stretched, its eyes like twin abysses filled with hunger.
Fear hit Adam like a tidal wave.
His legs shook, his breath hitched, and his heart thudded like it wanted to escape his chest.
"It's real… a real demon," he thought, terror rising in his throat like bile.
"I should help… but I'll die. I'll die if I go in there!"
He stumbled back, nearly slipping, and pressed himself against the icy corridor wall. His breaths came in short, shuddering gasps. He dropped into a crouch, hiding behind the corner like a frightened child, every nerve in his body screaming.
From his shadowed refuge, he heard the chaos: the crash of glass, the snapping of furniture, Lopez's cries, then David's voice breaking through the noise, calling Joseph's name, pleading for him to wake.
Adam clenched his fists, fingernails digging into his palms. Guilt stabbed deep, twisting with shame—but fear still had its claws around him.
Then—silence.
He opened his eyes slowly and dared to peer around the corner.
Lopez and David emerged, half-carrying, half-dragging Joseph's limp form. David looked pale, dazed, like a man who had just touched death. Lopez's eyes shimmered with unshed tears; her jaw clenched tight, silent but screaming.
Adam stood there, motionless, a thousand thoughts warring in his mind.
Follow them? Call out? Or walk away and pretend none of this ever happened?
But curiosity… it clawed at his spine like a parasite.
Once he was sure the trio had descended the stairs and disappeared into the shadows, Adam took a shaky breath and stepped inside.
Like a man crossing into a dream.
Or a nightmare.
The air was thick. Not just with humidity—but something heavier. Something ancient. It clung to his skin like filth. The sharp, metallic tang of blood filled his nostrils, undercut by a bitter, acrid stench that burned his throat.
This wasn't just a room where something died.
It was a place that remembered.
Something foul. Something wrong.
The overhead lights flickered, casting spasms of dim illumination across the ruined space—as if the room itself were holding its breath.
Then— he saw it.
The demon's body lay twisted across the floor, sprawled in a grotesque, unnatural sprawl. Its skin was a sickly, inhuman shade of grayish black, slick with oozing blood. Muscles torn. Bones protruding. But even in death, its presence was overwhelming—like a nightmare given form.
A short distance away, its severed hands lay like discarded gloves. The cuts were disturbingly clean—surgical. Almost ceremonial. The creature's chest had been torn open, and in the cavity where its heart should have been, there was only black emptiness. Just beneath it, the heart lay pulsing faintly, slick with congealed, tar-like blood, as if even in death, it refused to fully die.
Adam staggered back, hand to his mouth. His knees nearly buckled.
"God… how…?" he whispered, breath shallow. "How could they have done this?"
He shook his head slowly, struggling to understand.
"That thing… it should've torn them apart."
Fear and awe twisted inside him. The room felt like a tomb.
Still, something pulled him forward.
He crept closer, step by step, mesmerized by the horror. Morbid curiosity flickered in his eyes. His hands trembled at his sides, fingertips twitching.
Then—movement.
Not from the corpse… but from the shadows around it.
A low hiss, like air escaping from a deep crack in the earth. Then a thick, black smoke began to rise from the demon's remains, curling and coiling like it had a will of its own. It slithered through the air—oily, formless, alive.
Adam froze. His breath caught.
The smoke moved toward him.
"What the hell—?" he gasped, taking a step back.
But it was too late.
The smoke surged forward, enveloping him like a wave. It pressed against his skin—cold as ice, but heavy like chains. It slid into his mouth, his nose, filled his ears with whispers he couldn't understand.
Adam fell to his knees, choking, clawing at the air. His eyes rolled back. His body trembled.
"No—stop!" he cried. "What is this? What's happening to me?!"
And then… silence.
A voice, deep and smooth, echoed inside his skull. It didn't speak aloud—it spoke within him. Whispering directly into the dark corners of his mind.
"I can help you, Adam."
The voice was calm. All-knowing.Seductive.
"I know your pain… your anger… your longing. I know what you've lost."
The smoke thickened, shifting around him like a cloak. A shadow took form—vague, towering, faceless. Its presence was vast, like a void pressing against his soul.
"No one sees you, do they?" the voice murmured. "No one knows what you carry. But I do. I see it all."
Memories began to rise—unbidden and sharp.
Lopez, laughing beside Joseph.
The office, whispering in awe of the 'new rising star.'
Joseph's name being called in meetings. His face on the department board.
The day he was promoted to Senior Detective.
Adam, watching from the back of the room, clapping with a forced smile that didn't reach his eyes.
A bitter heat burned in his chest.
"Yes…" the voice breathed. "There it is. That ache in your heart. That anger buried under silence. All your life, Adam… you were the one who gave everything—and yet, he took it all."
The smoke's tendrils coiled around his body now, wrapping him like vines. His fists clenched, veins bulging beneath his skin.
"The title. The praise. Her.", The words struck him like daggers.
"Joseph stole what should've been yours. We both know it."
Tears welled in Adam's eyes, not from sadness—but from the sting of truth.
"I can help you take it back," the voice said, low and guttural."I can give you strength. Real strength. The power to make them see. To make him pay."
Adam looked up, dazed, his voice barely audible.
"Why… why me?"
The shadow leaned close, its smoky tendrils brushing against his ear.
"Because you have something he never will," it whispered. "Rage."
And in that moment, Adam didn't resist. But something inside Adam cracked.
"W-Who… Who are you?" Adam stammered, his voice shaky and low.
The smoke paused in its slow circling, then answered in a voice that felt like it came from inside his bones.
"I am your salvation," it whispered, smooth and commanding.
"I can give you the power to take what is rightfully yours. To destroy the one who took everything from you. We are alike, Adam. Both wronged. Both left in the shadows. Both hungry for justice."
Adam's heart pounded like a drum in his chest. His mind raced with confusion, fear—and a dangerous temptation. The smoke seemed to react to his thoughts, curling tighter around him, pulsing with anticipation.
"Do it," the voice urged, its tone sharper now.
"Let me in. Accept my gift, and together, we'll make him pay."
Adam's fists clenched at his sides, the knuckles white.
He hesitated.
His lips parted, but no sound came.
Then, one by one, the memories returned—clearer and sharper than ever before.
Joseph, smiling as he received his promotion.
The wayeveryone clapped and patted him on the back.
Lopez looking at Joseph with admiration—never at Adam.
And Adam, always in the background. Always invisible. Always second.
A cold anger rose in his chest, slow and steady, like water filling a deep well.
A dark whisper escaped his lips.
"…Yes."
His voice was barely audible, but the room seemed to freeze at the sound.
"You're right," he said, more clearly now. "We want the same thing."
The smoke reacted instantly.
It surged forward, faster than before, and slammed into him—through his eyes, his ears, his nose, his mouth.
It filled his lungs, crawled under his skin.
Adam dropped to his knees, his body convulsing violently.
His head snapped back, his mouth opened in a silent scream.
A low hum echoed through the room as if the very walls were vibrating.
Dark energy swirled around him.
His body shook as if something deep inside him was being ripped apart and rebuilt.
Then—stillness.
Adam collapsed, breathing hard, his body weak and shaking.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then he opened his eyes.
A flash of red blazed across his irises before fading back to brown.
He slowly stood up; his movements more controlled—stronger. Different.
A grin crept across his face, but it wasn't one of joy.
It was cold. Satisfied.
"This power…" he whispered, flexing his fingers.
"It's… incredible."
The voice returned, softer now—like a secret in his ear.
"And this is only the beginning, Adam. Stay with me… and everything you've ever wanted will be yours."
Behind him, the demon's body suddenly turned to ash, dissolving into the air.
The bloodstains on the floor vanished.
The room, once filled with chaos and death, became clean—empty, like nothing had ever happened.
Adam stepped into the hallway.
The quiet outside felt strange—almost peaceful.
The wind brushed against his face.
But inside him, a storm had started.
A storm that would soon tear through everything—and everyone—Joseph cared about.
And this time,
Adam wouldn't be in the background.
He would be the reckoning.
To be Continued...