Chereads / I Am The Prince of Hell / Chapter 4 - Chapter 4 - Blood Pact (Part 2)

Chapter 4 - Chapter 4 - Blood Pact (Part 2)

"Those eyes are yours, but the face you're looking at is mine," Daemom replied with a smug smile, clearly in a foul mood and unwilling to chat, especially with a demon who seemed to have taken an interest in him for some reason.

The female demon chuckled, swishing her tail gracefully through the air as she rocked back and forth on her feet. "Stop me from looking," her pink reptilian eyes narrowed challengingly.

Her fingernails grew instantly to a meter in length, their cold gleam suggesting they were as sharp as swords, if not sharper. Daemom, knowing he couldn't fight a demon, furrowed his brow and asked, "Don't you have anything better to do?"

From what he could gather, despite being able to see him, this demon didn't seem to harbor malicious intentions towards him. He was certain of this as he observed her soul.

"I did, I was about to send that mortal soul straight into the arms of hell, but you just had to interrupt my work." She put a scaled finger to her lips, smiling innocently with an adorable tone. "Don't blame your incompetence on me. Even without me, it would've been hard for him to commit suicide," Daemom retorted sarcastically, his disdain clear in his voice.

"We'll never know now, since you didn't let me do my job." The demon shrugged casually, spreading her arms wide with a helpless and innocent tone.

Leaning forward, she spoke with an animated smile, "But because of that, I've found something much more interesting than an old dying soul."

"If you're thinking of trying to tempt me into hell, you're too confident, little demon." Daemom's lips curved into a smug smile as he spoke coldly.

"You never know, fate likes to play with the most unexpected things." The female demon smiled mysteriously, her pink eyes fixed on Daemom's as if she saw something very intriguing.

Daemom no longer cared to converse with the demon and stood up from the wooden bench, tossed his empty coffee cup into the trash, and left.

But Daemom soon realized the female demon was following him wherever he went.

Entering an alley, Daemom glanced at the demon with a displeased look and calmly asked, "Aren't you going to stop following me?"

The alley was dirty with some litter, the smell though bothering Daemom, wasn't at an unbearable level. Though the trash can that obviously should have litter in it was empty at the moment, showing that the residents of the neighborhood didn't use it for trash in it, but casually threw it on the floor.

"What are you talking about?" The demon looked around with a genuinely surprised expression. "Is someone following us?"

Daemom couldn't help but curl his lips at the Oscar-worthy performance of the infernal being before him.

"What do you want?" Bringing his hand to his forehead, Daemom rubbed it and asked with an obvious tone of helplessness.

"I find you interesting, so I'll follow you," the demon said, hands behind her back as she circled around Daemom's body. Her eyes practically gleamed with cunning.

The young man frowned upon hearing this. "Don't you have to go back to hell?" he asked, confused. Being accompanied by a demon was definitely the last thing he wanted right now, although having a conversation for the first time with a demon seemed intriguing.

"Go back?" The demon spoke with a humorous tone and looked at Daemom with bright eyes. "I escaped from there, why would I go back?"

Daemom couldn't help but be surprised by her words; not in his wildest thoughts did he think demons could escape from hell.

"Was it too hot and you decided to flee?" Sitting on a huge trash can, Daemom asked sarcastically, but deep down, he was genuinely curious about why she had to escape from hell.

The humor he had accumulated during his conversation with Victor Muller had completely vanished by now. Now, the female demon in front of him had captured all of his attention.

Seeing curiosity in his eyes, the lips of the female demon curved into a satisfied smile.

"Things down there are complicated." Jumping and sitting gently on Daemom's lap, the female demon showed a cute expression and looked up.

Her tail wrapped around Daemom's waist as she shifted on his lap, trying to find the most comfortable position. When she found it, she leaned against his chest very naturally, without even asking for permission beforehand.

Instead of the expected sulfur smell, the demon smelled sweet and soft, reminding Daemom of a scent similar to lavender.

Out of pure curiosity, Daemom reached out and touched the crimson hair of the female demon. To his surprise, they were unexpectedly soft and comfortable to touch, emitting a rather warm feeling from the red strands.

"Explain yourself," Daemom questioned as he stroked her hair. It was the first time he would receive information directly from hell and from the mouth of a demon, not to mention actually touching one.

Comfortably narrowing her eyes, the female demon couldn't help but adore the touch of the human she was sitting on. He exuded a warmth that she, a demon, had never felt before. If this was how angels felt about God's grace, then she understood perfectly why they loved Him so much.

It was so comfortable in his arms that she could sleep without any worry or fear. For some reason, she had this almost inexplicable confidence in him.

"It's been almost sixteen years since His Majesty, the King disappeared. All seven princes and the four infernal dukes have started a civil war, fighting to inherit the Abyssal Throne of Hell," she said, swinging her legs back and forth, a playful smile on her lips.

While the war intrigued her little, the human world was different and had always fascinated her.

Daemom couldn't help but show a surprised expression. Just from her words, he could imagine the pandemonium unfolding in Hell right now. All infernal legions battling each other for the Throne of Hell. Infernal dukes and princes engaged in a constant war of death and agony.

Moreover, the disappearance of what Daemom considered the Origin of All Sins was, at the very least, concerning in his eyes. He wasn't sure if this mysterious disappearance of the King of Hell could affect the human world in any way, something he wouldn't want to see under any circumstances.

"Daemom." Hearing his name called, he looked down at the demon sitting on his lap with a curious gaze.

"Let's make a pact," the female demon said, her eyes filled with expectation.

"Sorry, I don't want to sell my soul," Daemom immediately refused. In his conception, making a pact with a demon meant selling your own soul, something he definitely didn't want to do.

"I don't want your soul," she shook her head. "I want to stay by your side."

This time it was Daemom's turn to be stunned. Frowning, he asked, "Why?"

"I feel comfortable around you and I don't want to go back to hell," she stated her purpose without hesitation. She had a limited time before she would be forced back to Hell for failing to acquire a soul, and when her mother found out about her escape, she would be condemned to spend millennia locked in a dark room.

After hearing her explanation, although Daemom showed a strange expression, he agreed to make the pact. For his own safety, he would only agree under terms that he would set.

While it was somewhat risky, the reward would be equally great; he would practically have information about Hell without having to pay anything or nearly anything.

Another reason he agreed to make the pact was the female demon herself. Throughout their conversation, he had been looking at her soul, and not once had she lied.

Which was shocking, given that every phrase a demon should say was 90% lies and the remaining 10% subtle brainwashing.

"How does one make a pact?" Daemom asked curiously. It would be the first time he personally witnessed the famous demonic pact, something he had heard many famous celebrities possessed.

"You state your terms and I'll state mine, then we simply conclude our pact," the demon said without hiding anything. She knew Daemom could see souls, and probably hers, meaning he would know if she lied. While it was unprecedented for a human to see souls, it was an ability exclusive to demons and angels.

Both began to state their terms.

Daemom's terms were simple: she couldn't harm or kill him or anyone close to him under any circumstances. She couldn't lie or withhold any information he asked for. And under no circumstances could she betray him.

To Daemom's surprise, the demoness accepted and laid out her terms. Again surprising him, they were nearly identical to his own terms.

Aside from the part about sharing information, which he found natural on her part—it's not like he knew much about the supernatural world hiding in the shadows of reality.

"Are you sure I'm not marrying you?" Daemom couldn't help but joke after concluding both their terms; in his eyes, this pact wasn't much different from marriage.

The female demon chuckled and leaned against his chest, looking up with her large pink eyes.

Then, she used her sharp nail to cut her lip, purple blood slowly oozing from the wound, staining her lips with a beautiful hue.

She did the same with Daemom's lips, which were now stained with a deep red hue, and to his surprised, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, claiming his lips, mixing their blood in an inexperienced kiss.

"By my name, Amara, I make a blood pact with you." Separating her lips from his, Amara rested her forehead against his and whispered gently. Licking the residual blood from her lips, she couldn't help but feel how delicious his blood was.

"By my name, Daemom, I make a blood pact with you." Though surprised by the kiss and ritual, Daemom followed her words, sealing the pact between them.

And under his surprised eyes, a delicate and ethereal crimson thread manifested in the air, gently wrapping around his wrist, and the same happened on Amara's right wrist.

"The pact is made and will only be broken by the death of one side," Amara spoke with an arrogant tone, though her voice indicated she was very happy at the moment.

"Yes, milady," Daemom rolled his eyes and spoke dramatically, but he was also smiling, beginning to trust someone for the first time.

No one imagined that in a dark and dirty alley in a small town in California, one of the oldest pacts had been made again, and its protagonists were merely repeating the same pact their parents had made at the dawn of creation.