Chapter 1
579words
Warm, with a metallic sweetness, it spread from my father's chest, soaking through the expensive Persian carpet beneath him, blooming crimson among the intricate rose patterns.
My parents' bodies lay nearby, their eyes fixed vacantly on the massive crystal chandelier above.
There, once, was the center of my entire world.
Hungry flames devoured the family portrait, crackling as they went. I watched my mother's gentle smile twist, peel away, and finally crumble to ash.
"Cough... cough cough..."
I huddled beneath the grand piano, my small body trembling uncontrollably.
My uncle's face, usually plastered with a fake smile, now looked monstrous in the dancing firelight.
He clutched the blood-dripping gun, muttering to himself: "Evelyn, my dear niece, don't blame me."
His voice cut through the roar of the flames with unnatural clarity.
"If you want to blame someone, blame that stubborn father of yours. He refused to give me my share, so I took everything."
I pressed my hand against my mouth, terrified to make even the slightest sound.
But inside, my heart screamed: Kill this monster. Whatever it takes.
Just when I thought I would burn with the estate that held all my childhood memories, he appeared.
A man.
He emerged from the heart of the inferno, step by deliberate step.
His immaculate black tailored suit bore not a trace of smoke or ash, as if the flames themselves bowed to his will.
He stopped before me, gazing down at my huddled form beneath the piano.
Then, he extended his hand.
"Poor little thing," he said softly. "Do you want to live?"
His voice resonated like a fine cello, each syllable carrying a bewitching power that cut through the roaring flames.
"Do you want revenge?"
I looked up through tears and ash to see his face with perfect clarity.
His face was inhumanly beautiful, but his eyes—God, his eyes.
Dark red eyes that held no warmth, yet somehow contained both divine compassion and demonic hunger.
Like an angel fallen into hell.
I didn't know who—or what—he was, or if he was just a dying hallucination.
But I knew he was my only hope.
Even if he wasn't real, I needed to grasp this chance.
With all my remaining strength, I forced a single hoarse word from my throat: "Yes."
He smiled.
Just a slight curve of his lips, yet it made the surrounding inferno seem dim by comparison.
He crouched down with inhuman grace, bringing his eyes level with mine.
"Then form a contract with me, Evelyn."
He knew my name.
"I will become your most loyal servant, clearing all obstacles in your path, fulfilling all your wishes. Wealth, power, and..." he paused, "revenge."
Each word struck my fragile mind like a hammer, dripping with irresistible promise.
"This contract will last until your eighteenth birthday."
"As the price," he paused, his ice-cold fingertip tracing my feverish cheek, "at midnight on that day, your soul becomes mine. Forever. Never to enter reincarnation."
My soul?
I lowered my eyes. I'd already lost everything. What did my soul matter now?
"Deal."
I answered without hesitation, my voice carrying a calmness that surprised even me.
A flash of approval lit his crimson eyes.
He took my hand and, using his nail, sliced my fingertip with surgical precision.
Our blood mingled, and a complex sigil materialized in the air before slowly shrinking and burning itself into my flesh.
The contract was sealed.
