As Lucas's shift neared its end, he made his final rounds through the ward, visiting each patient one by one to administer their medicine, check their blood pressure, and record their body temperature.
He let out a slow breath when he finally stopped in front of his last room.
Layla Sinclair.
Lucas raised his hand to knock, but the voice from behind the door stopped him mid-motion.
"You don't need to knock. Just come in."
"…Damn it," he muttered under his breath as he opened the door.
Layla was already waiting for him, sitting casually on the bed. The same bed they had done something he refused to think about. Lucas forced his expression into a professional smile and stepped inside.
"I need to check your blood pressure and temperature," he said evenly as he prepared the equipment and sat beside her. "How was your day?"
"Stop pretending," Layla said flatly. "Just tell me. Do you want to summon Asmodei or not?"
His hand paused halfway through wrapping the cuff around her arm.
Lucas smiled again, polite and distant. "Let's just pretend nothing happened."
Layla clicked her tongue in clear disappointment. "This is the first time I've met someone who refuses the key to his own cage. Like a bird that forgot how to fly."
"I don't understand what you're talking about," Lucas replied calmly. "Mrs. Sinclair, the demon you keep mentioning exists only in your mind. It's part of your delusions."
Her gaze sharpened. "You still don't believe me?" She leaned closer. "What if I give you proof?"
Lucas finally looked up at her. He tried to read her expression, but her eyes were as empty as ever. And yet, somewhere inside him, the part that still burned with resentment and hunger hesitated only briefly.
Before he could stop himself, he nodded.
Layla smiled. "Good."
She lifted her hand and gently covered his eyes. "Remember this, Lucas. Whatever you see in this room is real. And if you get scared, it means I'm right."
Her hand slowly moved away.
Lucas blinked.
At first, the room looked the same. Then he noticed the cold. It crept along his skin, unnatural and sudden. The light dimmed, not as if the lamps had changed, but as if something darker had settled into the air itself.
Then he heard it.
A woman crying softly from the corner of the room.
Lucas turned his head, his stomach tightening.
A woman crouched there, hugging herself as shadows clung to her body like smoke. Her presence pressed down on the room, heavy and suffocating.
"Hiks… hiks…" she sobbed. "Help me… please… let me out of here."
The sound of her voice made the hair on the back of Lucas's neck stand on end.
"I'm not crazy," the woman suddenly snapped.
She turned her head toward him with terrifying speed.
Her eye sockets were empty. Dark blood streamed down her face like tears. Lucas sucked in a sharp breath, barely managing to stop himself from screaming.
He spun toward Layla. "What the hell is that?"
Layla watched him calmly.
"A ghost," she said. "The last woman who was isolated in this room."
"What the hell…"
Lucas backed away until his shoulders hit the wall, his breath coming out uneven as he realized there was nowhere left to run. "Make it stop."
"Do you believe me now?" Layla asked calmly.
Lucas nodded as fast as he could, like a broken doll.
"Good," she said. "But if you want to help me, you need to use those eyes. Without them, you won't even see the signs of Asmodei."
"WHAT THE HELL?!" Lucas shouted, panic finally breaking through. "I don't want to help you then. Do you think I can live normally like this?"
"Normal?" Layla laughed, the sound sharp and mocking.
"You stopped being normal the moment you made a pact with me. We're already soul bonded. We'll be together forever."
His mind spiraled. Everything had changed in a single day because of this woman. Sleeping with her, the ghosts, Asmodei. None of it made sense anymore, and yet all of it felt terrifyingly real.
"Fuck it!" he snapped.
Lucas shoved himself off the bed and bolted for the door, slamming it shut behind him as he ran.
Now he knew Layla wasn't insane. Unhinged, yes, but not delusional like the others in this hospital.
And Asmodei… it was clear now. Summoning a devil wasn't just possible. It was real.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. "What did I get myself into?"
***
On the way home, Lucas saw them everywhere.
Ghosts.
Some stood still, others drifted aimlessly, their shapes twisted and wrong. The sounds they made were worse than their appearances. Whispers, sobs, distorted laughter. His chest tightened every time one appeared too close.
He shoved his earphones in on the bus, turning the music up just to drown it out. Even then, he couldn't stop his eyes from drifting to the side.
A severed head hung from the bus handle beside him, hair tangled around the strap like it was holding itself there.
Lucas looked away quickly, his stomach churning.
It reminded him of his nightmare. His mother turned into a monster. The resemblance was too close and uncanny.
Old fear clawed its way back up, dragging trauma he had buried for years straight to the surface.
By the time he reached home, his body was shaking.
The moment he stepped inside, relief washed over him when he saw Esme.
"Lucas, you're finally home," she said gently, still wearing her apron. "What happened to you? Why do you look so pale?"
"Ah… it's nothing," he replied quickly. "I just need to wash up."
He hurried past her, his heart slowing as he realized something strange.
There were no ghosts here.
For the first time since leaving the hospital, he felt safe. Until he saw her.
Lucas froze. His bag slipped from his shoulder and hit the floor as his eyes widened.
She was standing near the door. As tall as the ceiling with long black hair. Green eyes filled with hatred.
"Mother…?" he whispered.
She didn't respond. She didn't even look at him.
Lucas followed her gaze. It was fixed on one door to his stepmother's room.
"No way," he muttered.
His hands clenched as he slowly approached and pushed the door open.
Adelyn sat in her wheelchair, staring blankly out the window. Her eyes were empty. Lifeless.
Lucas stepped inside and closed the door tightly behind him, his heart pounding as he moved closer.
Adelyn turned her head toward him, her eyes burning with hatred as her mouth twisted into a sneer.
"What are you doing here, moron?" she spat. "You have a problem with me, you bastard son?"
Lucas had heard insults like that his entire life. They usually slid off him without leaving a mark.
But this time, something inside him refused to stay quiet. The anger rose fast, violent and cold, like a snowstorm that could no longer be held back.
"Were you…" His voice shook despite his effort to keep it steady. "Were you the one who killed my parents?"
For a split second, Adelyn's eyes widened. But then she smiled, a slow, wicked smile that made Lucas's stomach drop.
"I was," she said proudly. "And I will never regret it. They deserved it. They ruined my life."
Her lips curled higher. "Your mother was a whore who—"
Lucas snapped.
He lunged forward and wrapped his hands around her throat, squeezing hard. The wheelchair rattled as Adelyn gasped, her hands clawing at his arms until his skin broke.
Blood ran down his wrists, but he didn't loosen his grip but still her grin didn't fade.
"You bastard," she choked. "You'll be next. I'll kill you next."
Her face slowly turned blue, her breathing ragged, the smile finally beginning to crack.
And in that moment, memories surged through Lucas with brutal clarity. His father's body. His mother's madness.
The hunger. The begging. The nights he knelt and cried just for scraps of food while this woman watched.
Death would be too easy.
Lucas released her.
Adelyn collapsed forward, coughing violently as she clutched the arms of her wheelchair, gasping desperately for air. Lucas stood there, staring at her like she was nothing more than a broken thing.
Pathetic.
A woman who had made his life hell, and whose life would now be nothing but misery.
He leaned down close to her ear and whispered, his voice calm and cold.
"Don't ever dream of me forgiving you. From today on, I will make your life and your son's life miserable. I'll teach you what cruelty really means."
Adelyn slowly looked up at him.
For the first time, fear crept into her eyes.
Lucas straightened, already feeling the decision settle deep inside him. He was tired of being a victim. If no one would help him, not even God, then he would do it himself.
Even if it meant drowning in the abyss.
"Layla," he murmured. "I need to find her."