Death did not come gently.
It arrived without symbolism, without tunnels of light or moral judgment. One moment, Vanessa was alive—breathing, thinking, bored in a way only adults who had seen too much of the world could be. The next, her body failed her with mechanical indifference. No drama. No final revelation. Just silence.
And then—consciousness.
She was not floating. Not falling. She was standing.
The ground beneath her feet felt wrong. Not solid, not unstable—unfinished. Like a concept still deciding what it wanted to be. The air was heavy, thick with something sharper than humidity. Fear, maybe. Or blood that had soaked into the world itself and never washed out.
Vanessa exhaled slowly.
"So," she said, voice calm, almost amused, "this is death."
The space around her responded.
Not with words. With pressure.
The darkness ahead folded inward, condensing into a shape that hurt to focus on. Not because it was grotesque—though it was—but because it seemed to exist on several emotional frequencies at once. Long limbs twisted around themselves. A mouth that smiled too knowingly. Eyes that reflected longing, hunger, shame, obsession.
Vanessa tilted her head.
"You're not God," she observed. "Too… interested."
The thing laughed. The sound crawled under her skin, not loud, but intimate. As if it had been waiting for her specifically.
"Correct."
Its voice was layered. Masculine and feminine. Soft and predatory.
"I am a devil."
Vanessa raised an eyebrow. "Of what?"
The smile widened.
"Desire."
That word echoed differently. It did not land in the air—it landed inside her. Memories stirred. Wants she had never acted on. Curiosities she had buried under routine, morality, and social fatigue.
Vanessa did not recoil.
Instead, she smiled.
"Figures," she said. "I always did attract complications."
The Devil of Desire studied her. Not her body—not yet—but her reactions. Her lack of panic. Her composure. Most humans begged. Most screamed. Some tried to bargain.
Vanessa simply waited.
"You are not afraid," the devil noted.
"No," she replied honestly. "Fear requires attachment. I was already done."
A pause.
Interest sharpened.
"Then you understand why you are here."
"I understand that I'm being evaluated," Vanessa said. "And that if I fail whatever test this is, I probably cease to exist."
The devil chuckled.
"No test. Only an offer."
The world shifted.
Images flooded her vision—not as hallucinations, but as windows. Cities torn apart by creatures stitched from nightmares. Humans fighting devils with contracts carved into their flesh. Blood. Screams. Chainsaws tearing through bone.
Vanessa inhaled slowly.
"Ah," she murmured. "That kind of world."
"You will be sent there," the devil said. "Reborn, intact. Conscious. An anomaly."
"And the price?" she asked immediately.
The devil leaned closer.
"You will become my contractor."
Vanessa laughed softly. "I was wondering when that would come."
The devil's eyes narrowed.
"Most ask what they gain."
"I already know," she replied. "Power. Influence. Survival."
She stepped forward. The darkness rippled around her shoes.
"What I want to know," Vanessa continued, "is what you gain."
Silence stretched.
Then, truth.
"Experience."
The word carried weight.
"You will walk among humans and devils alike. You will awaken desire where it sleeps. Corrupt it. Amplify it. Test its limits."
Vanessa considered this.
"And my abilities?"
The devil smiled again—this time with something like admiration.
"You will not control minds."
"Good," Vanessa said. "That's boring."
"You will not force submission."
"Also boring."
"You will become… a catalyst."
The space around them pulsed.
"Desire directed at you will empower you. Fear shaped by desire will protect you. Obsession will sharpen your instincts. But love—true love—will never reach you."
Vanessa felt something twist inside her chest. Not pain. Recognition.
"So anyone who wants me," she said slowly, "will be ruined by it."
"Eventually."
"And anyone who hates me?"
"Will still desire you."
She laughed again. Low. Satisfied.
"That's beautifully cruel."
The devil extended a hand—if it could be called that. Flesh, shadow, longing intertwined.
"Do you accept?"
Vanessa did not hesitate.
"I do."
The contract sealed itself without ink. Without pain. It sank into her like a second heartbeat.
She woke up coughing blood.
Rain hammered the pavement around her. Neon lights reflected in puddles stained dark red. Sirens screamed somewhere nearby, distant but constant.
Vanessa rolled onto her side, breathing hard. Her body felt… right. Stronger. Sharper. Not invincible—but present.
She pushed herself to her knees.
The smell hit her next.
Blood. Oil. Rotting meat. Something metallic and alive.
"Oh," she said quietly. "This place doesn't bother pretending."
A body lay a few meters away. Torn in half. Human. The expression frozen in terror.
Vanessa stared at it. Then she looked down at her own hands.
They were clean.
Footsteps approached.
She turned slowly.
Three figures emerged from the rain. Coats. Weapons. Tired eyes. One of them—a blond boy with a chainsaw cord hanging from his chest—froze when he saw her.
"Uh," he said. "Is she… alive?"
Another woman, taller, red-haired, covered in blood, squinted at Vanessa.
"She smells weird," she said. "Like a devil. But not."
Vanessa stood fully now. She felt it—the pull. Subtle. Immediate.
The blond boy's gaze lingered too long. Confusion bled into curiosity. Then something softer. Wanting, but unformed.
Vanessa smiled.
"Hello," she said. "Am I interrupting something?"
The air shifted.
Power—the red-haired one—snarled instinctively. "I don't like her."
Vanessa met her eyes.
"I know," she replied pleasantly. "You will."
The third figure stepped forward. Calm. Controlled. Eyes sharp enough to dissect souls.
Makima.
She studied Vanessa without blinking.
"This one," Makima said softly, "is not registered."
Vanessa felt the weight of that gaze press against her mind.
She did not flinch.
Makima smiled.
That was when Vanessa understood.
This world will try to own me.
She smiled back.
"Looks like," Vanessa said, voice steady despite the rain, "we're going to have problems."
Somewhere deep within her, the Devil of Desire laughed.
And the contract began to work.