In the aftermath of his chilling encounter with Leatherface, Yoriichi Type Zero did not hasten his departure. Instead, with deliberate steps, he made his way toward the most secluded chamber of the house.
Guided by the intelligence provided by Jon, Yoriichi Type Zero had reason to believe that, barring any unforeseen circumstances, he would find an ancient being within these walls. This individual, purported to be well over a century in age, was said to sustain their longevity through the macabre consumption of human blood.
As Yoriichi Type Zero advanced toward the inner sanctum, the unique abilities Jon had bestowed upon him began to stir. He was equipped with a heightened sense of perception, an innate ability to detect the presence of life, no matter how faint. It was this very sense that confirmed to him the existence of someone—or something—dwelling within the room ahead. The life force he detected was feeble, barely distinguishable from that of the deceased. This presence could belong to an innocent, ensnared by the family's malevolent grasp, or it could be the ancient one he sought.
With a steady hand, Yoriichi Type Zero pushed the door open, only to be confronted with a scene that would haunt the most hardened of souls.
The room was shrouded in shadows, but what little light there was centered upon a rocking chair. Occupying the chair was what appeared to be a mummified figure.
Indeed, a mummy. Despite Yoriichi Type Zero's origins as an inanimate doll, he had been graced with the faculties of life, including the acute sense of smell that belonged to humans. The pungent odor of decay was unmistakable as it filled the room, emanating from the figure before him.
A moment of realization struck Yoriichi Type Zero with a jolt. The weak life force he had sensed was emanating from this seemingly desiccated corpse.
This was no mere mummy; it was a living being.
This entity before him was a character of infamy, second only to Leatherface in the annals of horror. Known for their ghastly visage and the gruesome ritual of extending their life by drinking the blood of humans, this creature would mercilessly bludgeon victims with a hammer, capturing their blood in a basin to later imbibe.
Yoriichi Type Zero's hand moved to the hilt of his sword, the blade casting a ghostly glow in the dimness. Perhaps perceiving the looming threat, the mummified figure made a feeble attempt to rise from the chair. But it was to no avail. With a swift and decisive motion, Yoriichi Type Zero brought an end to its unnaturally prolonged existence.
As the sword returned to its sheath, the scene shifted to a starkly different setting—Jon's shop in Brooklyn, New York. There, Jon reclined leisurely in his chair, seemingly at rest with his eyes closed. Yet, in an instant, his eyes snapped open, and the corners of his mouth curled into a knowing smile.
"It seems that he has executed the mission with flawless precision~!" he murmured to himself, a sense of satisfaction in his tone.
***
After the harrowing ordeal, Luke Matthews had taken considerable time to expunge the haunting memories from his mind, eventually reclaiming the rhythm of his everyday life. He returned to his familiar role as a real estate attorney, a profession where logic and law reigned over the inexplicable.
The case that landed on his desk was an enigmatic one: a family, seemingly content, sought to relinquish their home. The peculiarity lay in the fact that this family had no superior alternative for accommodation. Surrendering their home meant resorting to the hospitality of kin, a downgrade from the ideal abode they currently possessed. Luke grappled with the rationale behind their decision to transfer the property.
In line with his professional ethos, Luke initially resolved to refrain from probing into the personal motives of his clients. However, upon crossing the threshold of the residence, his resolve wavered.
The reason behind the family's eagerness to depart became palpably clear to Luke. The ambiance of the home was eerily reminiscent of the one that had ensnared Cecily and Justify, suggesting that this family, too, had been ensnared by an encounter of a supernatural kind.
"Please have a seat, Mr. Matthews!" The voice of a middle-aged woman, Mrs. Peggy, broke through the silence, guiding him to the sofa.
"The children are at school, so tranquility prevails for now," she remarked, extending the offer of refreshment. "Would you care for a drink?"
"Just water, thank you," Luke replied, settling into the couch.
With a glass of water handed to him, Peggy took a seat opposite Luke, her visage worn and devoid of joy, reinforcing Luke's suspicions.
"Let's discuss the particulars of the house, Mr. Matthews," she sighed.
Before delving into the paperwork, Luke felt compelled to address the elephant in the room. "Before we proceed, Mrs. Peggy, I must understand why you're leaving this house."
"We yearn for a simpler life in the countryside; we've outgrown the need for this house," Peggy responded, her tone flat, her explanation unsatisfactory to Luke.
"No, Mrs. Peggy, I seek the genuine reason," Luke pressed, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You sense an unnatural presence here, don't you?"
Peggy's brow furrowed in confusion.
"Please, don't misunderstand," Luke reassured, his hands gesturing for calm. "I've encountered what you're facing. I was fortunate to be saved by someone. If you place your trust in me, I can introduce you to him."
Peggy's expression shifted from skepticism to a flicker of hope. "You're serious about this?"
"On my professional integrity, I am," Luke affirmed. "And financial concerns need not trouble you; he's a genuine exorcist and may not even require payment."
Luke held Jon in high esteem, recalling how Jon had intended to depart post-rescue without accepting any form of compensation.
Peggy's hesitation lingered. "But wouldn't this mean you lose out on a transaction?"
"I would have never considered such a proposition before," Luke admitted. "But after what I've been through, I can't in good conscience let others suffer a similar fate."
***
A taxi pulled up to a nondescript storefront, the sign "Exorcist's Office" hanging by the entrance. Peggy stepped out, paying the fare and instructing the driver to keep the change.
She hesitated at the door, her gaze scrutinizing the modest establishment. Upon entering, she paused, taken aback by the youthful appearance of the proprietor. Jon, the supposed exorcist, seemed more akin to a novice than a seasoned professional, casting doubt on his legitimacy.
Peggy's initial skepticism gave way to suspicion of collusion between Jon and her lawyer, but she quickly dismissed the thought, considering the improbability of Luke partnering with such an inexperienced youth.
Jon, oblivious to his visitor, was lost in slumber, his chair serving as a makeshift bed. Business had been scarce, with the only semblance of activity stemming from local gangs seeking extortion payments.
"Mr. Vinson?" Peggy called out, attempting to rouse him. Jon's snores were the only response, resonating through the quiet shop.
Reluctant to physically awaken him, Peggy persisted, her voice a touch louder. "Mr. Vinson?"
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