Three days blurred together in a haze of indulgence as I reveled in the luxury of staying home, relishing in all the things that had eluded me during my days as a dedicated working woman. Sei, on the other hand, remained unconscious, causing me to worry unnecessarily. Worried, I reached out to Katie for assistance, grateful that she didn't pry and instead attended to him with care. However, as the fourth day dawned, there were still no signs of Sei awakening from his slumber.
The ambiance of my house had undergone a transformation during this time, and I stumbled upon a novel called "Fugitive Agent" written by a talented writer named Dion Sasha. The pages absorbed me, whisking me away to thrilling adventures and captivating worlds. Dion Sasha truly possessed a gift for storytelling.
Expectations of media frenzy and reporters clamoring for interviews, with my face plastered across the news, swirled in my mind. But to my surprise, none of that transpired. Perplexed by the absence of attention, I dialed Adonis to seek an explanation. In his characteristically lackluster tone, he simply replied, "Money and power, Alora, money and power."
Later that evening, I roused from a nap to the sound of a rushing shower. Sei must have finally awakened. Uncertain of what to say, given our strained relationship, I prepared dinner for both of us. Cooking had always been a cherished pastime; I preferred the comfort of homemade dishes over dining out. Lost in setting the table, I failed to notice when Sei arrived downstairs. Yet, in a quiet manner, he silently assisted me, wordlessly getting the task at hand done and efficiently.
Summoning my courage, I decided to broach the topic that had been gnawing at me during our shared meal.
"Um, Sei? Is it alright if I call you Sei?" I cautiously asked.
He responded with his usual icy gaze and an oppressive silence.
Exasperated, I couldn't help but express my disdain. "Ugh, I can't stand you! You are here living in the comfort of my home, the least you can do is offer answers to all these bizarre events connected to you ."
Sei, adopting an authoritative tone, simply stated, "Ask."
I sighed in exasperation; his commanding demeanor irked me. I discreetly rolled my eyes, lest I provoke him further.
"Are you really a criminal?" I blurted out unintentionally, my carefully crafted list of questions thrown into disarray by my rebellious mouth.
If Sei felt annoyance, shock, or anger at my inquiry, he concealed it well. He noisily dropped his spoon, folded his arms lazily, and wearily responded, "How many questions do you plan on asking?"
"Umm, lets see...umm how about infinity!?"
He remained silent. Obviously!
"How about twenty-five questions."
He was quick to reply this time, "Five."
My disappointment was palpable. Only five? Not even ten? Mentally sifting through my list, I reluctantly set aside the unnecessary queries.
"Fine, I'll choose my questions wisely. First, what were you doing in my room the other day?"
"Next question," he retorted, shutting down my query abruptly.
"What? But you said you would answer five questions," I protested.
"I never promised to answer all five questions in the exact manner you asked them. I will choose which ones I feel like answering, and when I reach five, the questioning ceases," he explained with an air of indifference.
"Never mind," I stubbornly replied, pouting, while he nonchalantly resumed his meal.
As much as I wanted to act as if I didn't care, curiosity had a firm grip on my senses. Moreover, my life hung in the balance.
"Why do they call you Blade? Are you some kind of vampire slayer?" I asked, attempting to lighten the atmosphere with a touch of humor.
"I don't go by that name; the cops bestowed it upon me. And no, I'm not a vampire slayer. I prefer the term 'demon slayer' because that's what angels like me are assigned to do," he deadpanned.
I blinked in surprise and then burst into laughter.
"Oh my goodness, I never would have guessed you had a sense of humor! Demon slayer, an angel? Trust me, you couldn't be further from it."
Sei continued eating without offering any response to my comment. His serious demeanor halted my laughter, and I adjusted myself, now fully focused on the conversation.
"You are joking, right?" I asked, seeking clarification.
"Do I look like a clown?" he retorted.
No, he definitely didn't look like a clown. In fact, he possessed an aura of dark beauty. His jet-black hair, eyes, brows, and lashes, coupled with a sun-kissed complexion, formed a captivating combination. I noticed a large tattoo extending from his collarbone into his black shirt, depicting the fierce face of an eagle.
To my surprise, his cheeks adorned two deep dimples, adding an endearing touch to his appearance. However, he appeared to despise them, grinding his teeth when conversing with me, as if harboring some disdain. Perhaps it was me he despised, rather than the dimples themselves.
Despite his cold demeanor, there was no denying his striking physical features. If he could only shed his icy gaze and offer a smile, he would transform into an entirely different person. In summary, he possessed a captivating physique and a face that could make billions in the entertainment industry.
Once again, my laughter echoed through the room, but the angelic figure before me remained unyielding, his expression unchanged. He leaned against his seat, his arms crossed, radiating an air of otherworldly authority.
"You find this amusing, huh?" he said, his voice carrying a hint of annoyance. "Well, I don't expect you to believe me right away. It's not something most people readily accept."
I wiped away the tears of laughter and composed myself, trying to hide my skepticism. "Look, I get it. You've got this whole mysterious and brooding thing going on, but come on, angel? Demon slayer? That's the stuff of legends and fairy tales."
He let out a sigh, his eyes fixed on a distant point. "Legends and fairy tales, huh? That's what most people think until they find themselves face to face with the darkness they never knew existed. Believe me, I've seen things you wouldn't even dare to imagine."
His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't help but become intrigued despite my initial skepticism. Perhaps there was more to this man than met the eye. I cautiously questioned him, curiosity overriding my doubts.
The fact that he spoke more sentence than he usually does got me hooked and thinking.
"Alright, let's say for a moment I entertain the idea that you're an angel," I began, my voice filled with uncertainty. "Why would an angel be assigned to slay demons? Isn't that more of a heavenly task? Or why would you be assigned to protect a measly human like me?"
He pushed leaned forward, towards me, his gaze locking onto mine. "The line between heaven and hell isn't always as clear-cut as you might think. There are realms that exist beyond human perception, where demons thrive and pose a threat to both heaven and earth. It is our duty as angels to protect the innocent and restore balance."
I pondered his words for a moment, the weight of his sincerity seeping into my consciousness. The air in the room suddenly grew heavy, as if the truth itself hung in the balance.
I couldn't deny the sincerity and determination in his eyes any longer. There was a depth to his words, a conviction that resonated within me. I leaned forward in my sit, offering a hesitant smile.
"Okay," I said, my voice still filled with doubt. "I may not fully understand or believe it just yet, but I'm willing to listen. Tell me more about this world of angels and demons you claim to be a part of."
"No" was the crisp short answer.
I was about to protest when gave me a death glare, his demeanor instantly changing.
"I think you forgot about the five questions restraint."
I sigh, knowing I had asked more than that but smart enough to realize that he hadn't answered five questions yet.
"Why did you come to save me if you knew you could get caught?" I asked, nibbling on a strawberry.
He replied with a somewhat dismissive question, "What, you don't like the idea of being alive?"
"No, it's not that. I'm grateful that you saved me. I just want to understand how you managed to access the building and knew the exact room where I was going to fall through. I have so many questions spinning in my head," I explained with a sigh, hoping to convey my genuine curiosity. My response seemed to elicit a chuckle.
Anticipating a smile, I glanced up, but to my disappointment, it had vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
"You were not meant to die yet, not at that time or in that situation. Besides, I wasn't the one who saved you," he revealed, providing an answer that only fueled my confusion.
"What do you mean you weren't the one who saved me? Do you have a twin? That would explain the change in personality. No, wait, you both can't have the same wound or switch within seconds. Oh, I think I'm going crazy. I might already be," I exclaimed, vocalizing my thoughts aloud.
"What kind of angel are you? Are you some kind of guardian angel or something?" I pressed, hoping for clarity.
He stared at me for a while before responding, "I'm not."
"But how would you know if it's my time to die or not, and what situation I would end up in?" I inquired, trying to make sense of his explanations. Strangely, his words resonated with me, despite every fiber of my being screaming that they were impossible—a deception.
He let out a tired sigh. "You should be more concerned about how you ended up there and why you keep losing your memory. Yet, you choose to ask unnecessary questions," he complained.
Frowning, I questioned, "How did you know I've been losing my memory? No one knows that. Besides, I have a faint memory of how I got there—it was like I was under a trance."
He appeared surprised for a moment before his expression turned smug, as if he were entertaining mischievous thoughts. But just as quickly, he masked those emotions.
"What's with you and not showing any emotions?" I asked, unsettled by his demeanor.
"Five questioned answered already, now shut up."
Ah! How rude!
He glanced at his watch, a gesture I had observed him making throughout dinner.
"Are you going somewhere?" I inquired, noting his restlessness.
"Yes, and you are coming with me," he declared.
"No way am I going with you. How do I know you won't sell me to the press or, worse, sell my soul to a demon at a crossroad in exchange for demon news?" I replied, half-jokingly, my mind drawing references from the show Supernatural.
He scrutinized me from head to toe, taking in my appearance, right down to my flip-flops.
"If you want answers, you'll come with me. Go change into something comfortable," he ordered.
"But I'm comfortable in this," I protested, foolishly clinging to my attire.
"We are leaving the house, and I don't think your pajamas are the best choice for where we're going. Put on some pants," he insisted.
Pants? Are we embarking on a mission to hunt demons? The thought made me grin, even though I knew demon hunting was merely fictional.
"Why should I put on pants? Where are we going?" I inquired, hoping for a response this time.
Silence filled the air. What was I thinking? He probably wouldn't answer me.
Sei ascended the stairs, taking them two at a time, and I followed suit, exasperatedly yelling after him, "You're not helping!"