"Hey, was it you who took my money?"
The old woman's eyes were completely clouded, devoid of pupils.
Under her gaze, Orpheus felt as though his entire body was plunged into an ice cellar. The bone-chilling cold began to seep into his skin, invade his bones, and finally, close in on his heart from all directions.
Even his thoughts, which should have flowed freely, now felt like a frozen river—still moving beneath the surface but completely severed from his conscious self.
It was a bizarre sensation. You feel like you're still yourself, but you've forgotten who you are. You think you can still think, but your mind draws a complete blank.
If the previous encounter with Lazarus, which led to the "sleep paralysis" experience with Mrs. Molly, was a layered dream, then this was an even more profound dissection of his soul and consciousness.
It wasn't scaring him. It wasn't trying to terrify him. It wasn't searching for cracks in his psyche to exploit and break his defenses. No. At the very moment of first contact, it had petrified his consciousness entirely.
"My money—it's you who took it, isn't it?"
The old woman smiled, not in a sinister way, but with a kind, almost grandmotherly warmth. Yet this contrast was precisely what made the experience so unsettling, distorting both body and soul.
It wasn't that Orpheus wanted to stand there, frozen like a statue. He simply had no choice; he had no opportunity to react.
It was all happening right in front of him, happening to him, but he felt like a mere bystander. A famous painting was before him, and while he could appreciate it, he couldn't form any opinion because he was a character in the painting opposite the one he was viewing.
"You have to give me back my money..."
The old woman's face withdrew slightly.
Then, a shriveled hand emerged from the hole, grabbing Orpheus by the throat.
His upper body was still hanging off the bed, one hand braced against the cold floor tiles. But despite sensing the cold touch on his neck, he could do nothing.
The hole, once only big enough for a face, began to extend deeper and deeper, transforming from a simple pit into a vast abyss. Orpheus felt like a sacrificial offering, about to be devoured.
"My money... my money..."
The tiles began to melt, as though turning into liquid chocolate. The bed, the table, everything within sight was shifting from solid reality to a flowing liquid state, and even Orpheus's body was starting to blend into this rhythm.
It was as if the entire room above was being pulled into this ever-growing pit.
Suddenly, something black fell from the bed, almost getting sucked into the hole before it suddenly moved.
"Meow!!!!!!"
Orpheus had always been a lover of peace and quiet. In both his past and present lives, he detested noise.
But at this moment, that high-pitched cat yowl sounded like music from the heavens.
With that cry, the "fluid" around him rippled in chaotic waves, and Orpheus's consciousness seemed to partially return.
"My money... my money..." The old woman's voice was stubborn, still demanding what was hers.
But Puer, who had just yowled, crouched at the edge of the hole, extended its left paw, claws drawn, and swiped downward!
"Ah!!!!!!!!!"
A sharp cat scratch appeared on the old woman's face, and she let out a scream.
The suction that had been pulling everything in suddenly stopped, and then—
It exploded outward.
Boom!
…
"Thud!"
Orpheus fell off the bed, his joints hitting the ground with a jolt of pain. Soon after, his chest wound throbbed as it was pulled taut, sending a second wave of agony through his body.
"Hiss..."
Orpheus let out a pained groan. Instinctively, he curled up, thinking there was still a hole beneath him. But when he looked down, he saw that the tiles were perfectly intact.
Maybe a little dirty, but definitely no hole.
At that moment—
"Click!"
The room's overhead light flicked on.
Puer was standing on the bedside table, one paw pressing down on the light switch.
Before Orpheus could say anything, Puer spoke first:
"Demon. A Bewitching Demon."
Puer's gaze fell on Orpheus. "You weren't hallucinating earlier. There's a Bewitching Demon below us. This is serious. We need to inform Dies."
"Before you inform Dies, could you help me press the call button?" Orpheus asked.
Puer blinked, pointed with his paw toward the blocked door, and said, "Before you press the button, maybe you should move the barricade first."
"Sigh..."
Orpheus sighed deeply. He lay there for a moment, waiting for the pain to subside or for himself to become more accustomed to it. Then he slowly got up, walked to the door, and moved the cabinet aside, removing the mop as well.
Puer pressed the call button.
Orpheus sat back on the bed and carefully checked the wound on his chest. Fortunately, though it had been strained, the wound hadn't reopened.
"Is a Bewitching Demon a type of demon?" he asked.
"Indeed. But Bewitching Demons are rare. Alfred, even with his Succubus Eyes, isn't considered a Bewitching Demon. Bewitching Demons don't just influence emotions or minds through illusions or dreams; they can directly sever and command your consciousness, turning you into their puppet in an instant. Compared to them, demons like the one that possessed Mrs. Hughes or the one that killed a few people, like Mrs. Molly, are practically harmless little sweethearts."
"So, why did it come after me? I'm sure I didn't steal its money."
Wrongdoers always have their enemies. Why me?
"I wasn't sure before, but after she came to you, now I understand."
"Understand what?"
"Your overflowing talent, brimming so much it's practically spilling out. Like Lent sneaking into the bathroom blushing a few months ago to wash his underwear."
"…Orpheus."
"She wasn't deliberately targeting you. It's just that Bewitching Demons have an extremely keen sensitivity, and since you were so close, if her field of vision was pitch black, you, my dear, were like a glowing beacon right in front of her."
"And just now?" Orpheus licked his lips. "You were amazing."
It was a genuine compliment. Without Puer's timely claw swipe, Orpheus felt like his soul would have been ripped from his body.
"She was just unlucky." Puer was modest. "I can't fight, but in situations like this, I still retain some... instincts."
"Instincts?"
Puer smiled slightly, a smile that looked eerie on a black cat. "Because I, too, was once a Bewitching Demon. A pureblooded, noble one at that. She's not."
"Demons have bloodlines? I thought that was just something cats and dogs cared about."
"Watch your words, especially in front of the elder who just saved your life."
"Understood."
"Bloodlines are a form of evolution. Demons seek breakthroughs in their existence to achieve purity. Clergy do the same thing. They say they want to be servants of the gods, but deep down, they dream of one day standing on the divine pedestal themselves."
"So, you can't deal with her? I mean, the one downstairs."
"I'm just a cat. If you want someone to fight, you'd be better off calling the family's golden retriever. But, honestly, that dog's even more of a coward."
"Hmm." Orpheus nodded.
"Summon Dies. Bewitching Demons are rare, always have been. But whenever one appears, regardless of how, if it loses control, it causes immense destruction. The one that possessed Mrs. Hughes only killed a few people. But once, a powerful Bewitching Demon rose to power through speeches and elections, became a country's leader, and built a short-lived but brutal empire."
At that moment, the door to the hospital room opened, and a nurse walked in.
It wasn't Mina, who had worked during the day. Tonight, someone else was on duty.
"Sir, is there something I can help you with?"
"I need to make a call to my family. It's urgent," Orpheus said.
In a VIP ward, requests like this were usually accommodated. It wasn't unusual for VIP patients to leave the hospital with more than just a clean bill of health—sometimes, they left with a young nurse on their arm. It was no surprise that turnover rates for VIP nurses were as high as receptionists at big companies.
"Of course. May I have the number—"
Orpheus was puzzled. As a VIP patient, the nurse should have already known his information, or at least his name.
But before he could ponder it further—
"Meow!!!"
Suddenly, Puer leapt at the nurse's face, swiping a claw at her.
"Rip…"
The sound was like a pencil tearing through a notebook.
Puer's swipe ripped a patch of skin from the nurse's face, though it remained partially attached.
The nurse didn't scream. She maintained her previous expression but reached out to grab Puer with both hands.
Puer leapt again, clawing at her hands, but the pain didn't seem to affect her. She still managed to grab Puer, lifting him up and smashing him onto the floor.
"Smack!"
Puer hit the ground with a heavy thud.
The nurse kicked him. Even though her shoes were flat, they were made of hard leather.
"Bang!"
Puer was sent flying into the corner, his body curling up as blood began to pool beneath him.
The nurse advanced toward Puer, reaching out to grab him again.
Everything had happened so fast—the leap, the claw, the grab, the throw—that Orpheus hadn't even had time to react.
But now, he braced himself against the bed and swung his leg, kicking the nurse in the side.
She fell to the ground, her head hitting the floor with a loud crack.
Orpheus quickly stood up, looking for something to use as a weapon.
But the nurse, though knocked down, reached out with almost no hesitation, grabbing Orpheus's ankle and lunging forward.
Orpheus lost his balance, falling back onto the bed, as the nurse clambered on top of him, straddling his chest.
"Hiss…"
The pressure on his chest wound was unbearable, nearly causing him to pass out. And though passing out might have been a welcome escape, Orpheus knew that if he lost consciousness now, he might never wake up again.
The nurse reached out, wrapping her hands around Orpheus's throat. Her expression was still calm, with no hint of malice, but her grip was deadly.
Orpheus struggled, his chest wound splitting open, blood soaking through his hospital gown.
His left hand fumbled along the bed, finally landing on the book Mina had lent him, *I Bound Your Heart*. Thank goodness it had a hard cover.
Grabbing the book by its corner, Orpheus swung it at the nurse's face.
Smack!
Smack!
Smack!
The corner of the book hit the nurse, bruising her face, splitting the skin around her eyes and knocking her nose crooked. But her grip didn't loosen.
Orpheus, meanwhile, was losing strength, the lack of oxygen making him feel weaker by the second. His last desperate swing sent the book flying out of his hand.
In the corner, Puer remained curled up, still.
And Orpheus thought to himself, if only the previous "Orpheus" had exercised more. If only he'd started strength training as soon as he woke up. If only Dies hadn't stabbed him.
But now, all those "ifs" seemed too late.
Orpheus could feel his life force slipping away. His hand flailed, but all it could do was graze the nurse's face or neck—he couldn't even muster enough strength to slap her.
But then, he suddenly noticed another figure standing beside the nurse.
It was another nurse, identical in every way to the one on top of him, except this one had no scratches or bruises on her face.
She stood there, bewildered, like a girl who had just lost her purse.
The image of Mr. Mo Sang in his family's basement flashed through Orpheus's mind.
Was it happening?
Had it been triggered?
There was no time to think. Orpheus turned his head, shifting his gaze, and the ghostly girl's figure moved with him.
Finally, as Orpheus felt himself slipping closer to death, his soul on the verge of leaving his body, he managed to align the figure with the nurse on top of him—overlapping them completely.
Suddenly, the nurse's hands released their grip on his throat.
"Huff... huff... huff…"
Orpheus gasped for air, coughing violently, so intensely that it dulled the pain in his chest.
The nurse, still kneeling on the bed, reached forward again, then pulled her hands back, repeating the motion as if confused. Then she grabbed her own throat with one hand and beat furiously on her other arm. Her mouth opened wide as she bit down on her fingers, the whole scene turning bloody and frenzied.
It was as if two bitter enemies were locked in battle, except they were using the same body.
Blood trickling from his mouth, Puer slowly raised his head, looking at the chaos unfolding on the bed.
"Control... her…"
The ability of an inquisitor from the Church of Order—to awaken the dead.
Puer had seen Orpheus make Mr. Mo Sang sit up in the basement. She knew Orpheus had the ability. But she also knew that Orpheus didn't know how to control it.
Right now, the Bewitching Demon was possessing the nurse. If they couldn't suppress it by disrupting the awakened consciousness, the demon would soon regain full control of the body.
Though the nurse's body was battered and bruised, an injured cat and a recovering young man were no match for an adult woman possessed by a demon who felt no pain.
Orpheus hadn't heard Puer's weak voice, but in the midst of his violent coughing, he noticed the nurse's eyes shifting from confusion to focus as she began to regain control of herself. Her internal struggle was lessening.
The ghostly figure of the girl seemed to be evaporating, fading away.
"Heh, heh, heh…"
The nurse's throat emitted a sound resembling laughter. Despite one hand still wrapped around her own neck, she reached out with the other toward Orpheus.
Orpheus's eyes widened, and he shouted:
"Kneel!"
Thud!
The nurse's forehead slammed onto the bed, her hand still groping forward but unable to reach Orpheus.
Surprised that his command had worked, Orpheus hesitated for a moment before shouting again:
"Freeze!"
In an instant, the groping hand stopped moving.
Only the sound of the nurse's heavy, labored breathing filled the room, along with the faint echo of a single word:
"Money… money… money…"
"Silence."
The voice that had tormented him all day finally fell silent.
Orpheus didn't dare touch the nurse, whose head was still pressed against the bed. Instead, he carefully maneuvered out of bed.
In the corner, Puer slowly and painfully stood up.
"How long will she stay quiet?" Orpheus asked.
"Not long," Puer replied, unsure how long Orpheus's command would hold.
"I'm going to call Dies."
Orpheus left the room. Strangely, despite all the chaos inside, the hallway was eerily quiet. Only the occasional distant cough of a patient could be heard, as though his room had been isolated from the outside world.
Holding his chest, Orpheus reached the nurses' station and found the night nurse unconscious on the floor. Above the station, a row of lights indicated which rooms had called for assistance. The VIP room light was still on, meaning no one had responded yet.
Ignoring the unconscious nurse, Orpheus picked up the phone and dialed home.
It rang for a while before someone answered. It was Aunt Mary:
"Hello, this is the Immerles Funeral Services."
"Aunt Mary, let me talk to Grandpa."
"Orpheus? Is something wrong?"
"Get Grandpa on the phone."
"Grandpa isn't home tonight. He's been visiting Mr. Hoffman these past few nights. Mr. Hoffman's condition has worsened…"
Click!
As soon as Orpheus heard that Dies wasn't home, he hung up, not out of rudeness but because he simply didn't have time to explain or stall.
Without a mobile phone, trying to contact someone who wasn't near a landline was both time-consuming and frustrating.
However, without hesitation, Orpheus quickly dialed another number.
This time, the call was answered almost immediately, after just one ring.
On the other end, a deep, magnetic male voice said:
"Hello?"
Orpheus exhaled deeply, then spoke into the receiver:
"I now summon you."