Max stood in the quiet hallway of the third floor, staring at the wooden door of Room 35. The cold, triangular packaging of the Toblerone bar felt heavy in his right pocket. He had spent the last hour mentally preparing himself for this interaction. He was a master of infiltration, a legendary assassin, and a former Dark Lord who had commanded legions of demons. Yet, asking a normal, civilian neighbor for a favor felt strangely daunting.
He took a deep breath, smoothing out his simple gray t-shirt, and raised his hand.
—DING DONG!
He waited a few seconds, listening to the muffled silence of the apartment complex. He pressed the button one more time.
—DING DONG!
Max shifted his weight, pulling the yellow Toblerone chocolate bar from his pocket so he would have the peace offering ready the second she opened the door. He heard the faint sound of footsteps scurrying across the floorboards inside, followed by the familiar turning of heavy deadbolts.
—CREEEEAAAKKK!!!
The door swung open quickly.
Max put on his best, most polite neighborly smile. "Hey…. uhh, hi?"
His greeting faltered instantly. He raised an eyebrow, his highly trained eyes immediately taking in the bizarre sight before him.
Bellatrix was standing in the doorway, but she was not wearing her usual crisp, white laboratory coat, nor was she wearing her neat jogging suit. Instead, she was dressed in incredibly casual, slightly rumpled homewear. She wore a tight, faded graphic t-shirt and a pair of very short, light blue dolphin shorts.
But what caught Max's attention was her physical state. Her blonde hair was a wild, messy tangle. She was gasping for air as if she had just sprinted a mile. Her face was flushed a deep, feverish red, and a heavy layer of sweat glistened on her forehead and collarbones. Her gray eyes were blown wide in absolute, unadulterated shock the moment she saw his face.
"U—uh!" Bellatrix squeaked, a sound of pure panic escaping her throat.
Before Max could even ask if she was okay, she slammed her hands against the wood.
—BANG!
The heavy door was slammed shut right in his face with enough force to rattle the doorframe. The locks clicked rapidly from the inside.
Max stood alone in the hallway, holding the chocolate bar awkwardly in the air. He blinked slowly, completely bewildered by the interaction.
"Wha—what did I do this time?" Max asked the empty corridor, his voice laced with genuine confusion.
He lowered his hand and let out a long, heavy sigh. He leaned his back against the wall next to her door and crossed his arms. He was used to women reacting to him with fear, hatred, or intense romantic devotion in his past lives. But this level of panicked door-slamming was entirely new. He decided to just wait outside patiently until she calmed down.
Meanwhile, inside Room 35, pure chaos had erupted.
'ARGH! WHY IS HE HERE?! WHY NOW?!' Bellatrix screamed internally, pressing her back against the locked door as if trying to keep a monster from breaking in.
Her chest heaved with heavy, ragged breaths. She slid down the door until she was sitting on the floor, hiding her burning face in her hands.
She let out a frustrated sigh, pulling her hands away. She looked down at her lap. She looked at her wet dolphin shorts, the fabric clinging uncomfortably to her skin. She sighed again, a sound of profound, miserable shame.
"Le—let's just go change my shorts," she whispered to herself in the quiet apartment, her voice trembling. "I—including my upper shirt too!"
She was a mess. And she knew exactly why she was a mess.
She had just newly finished masturbating. It had not been a quick release to clear her head as she had originally planned. It had been an intense session that had lasted for roughly two to three hours.
And the direct root cause of her highly compromised state was the very man standing on the other side of her front door.
After fleeing from his apartment earlier that morning, driven mad by the sight of his sweaty, perfect six-pack abs and her own deeply inappropriate thoughts, she had sought a technological solution to her biological problem. Being a highly intelligent scientist, she was incredibly proficient with computers.
She had booted up her private laptop, accessed a high-end, uncensored AI generation tool, and fed it very specific prompts. She had used his exact physical description—his amber hair, his amber eyes, his scars, and his muscular build. Then, she used her own physical description.
She had typed out her darkest, most embarrassing desires into the prompt box, telling the AI to generate a highly specific Rule 34 video. The prompt she had written was burned into her memory: '23 minutes Hardcore Sex with no protection, pure raw, with her wearing the lab coat and him wearing only his trunks, Include creampie too.'
The AI had delivered a terrifyingly realistic, high-definition video of the two of them. She had spent the last few hours completely lost in the fantasy, ruining her clothes and her professional dignity in the process.
She scrambled up from the floor and looked over at her computer desk. Her smartphone was sitting there, the screen glowing faintly. Luckily, she had been wearing her high-quality noise-canceling earpods the entire time. If she had been playing the audio out loud, Max would have definitely heard the simulated, embarrassing sounds through the thin apartment walls. The mere thought of that made her want to throw herself out the window.
"Okay, okay. Get it together, Lauren," she muttered, slapping her own cheeks lightly.
She sprinted to her bedroom, ripped off the ruined dolphin shorts and the sweaty t-shirt, and threw them into the darkest corner of her laundry hamper. She grabbed a fresh set of clothes, quickly wiped herself down with a damp towel, and threw on her signature white laboratory coat over her outfit to feel like a professional again. She grabbed a brush and furiously yanked it through her tangled blonde hair until it looked somewhat presentable.
After ten agonizing minutes of frantic cleaning and deep breathing exercises to lower her heart rate, she walked back to the front door. She took a deep breath, unlocked the deadbolts, and slowly pulled the door open.
Max was still standing there, leaning casually against the wall.
"U—uhh… hi…." Bellatrix said, her voice an octave higher than normal. She offered a weak, trembling wave of her hand.
Max pushed himself off the wall and waved his hand in return, offering a gentle, forgiving smile.
Bellatrix smiled back nervously. She scanned his amber eyes, looking for any sign of disgust or realization. She let out a quiet sigh of immense relief. She was incredibly glad that it seemed Max didn't figure out what she had been doing on the other side of the door.
"Co—come get inside!" she offered quickly, stepping aside. She was still trembling slightly from the sheer, overwhelming embarrassment of the situation.
Max walked past her, stepping into her apartment. The air inside smelled faintly of ozone, bleach, and a sweet, underlying scent he couldn't quite place. He looked at her as she closed the door. She immediately shifted her head away, unable to meet his gaze directly, her cheeks still dusted with pink.
Max sighed inwardly. He assumed her extreme nervousness was simply leftover embarrassment from her awkward flirtation in his room earlier that morning.
'Yeah, I'm just gonna say sorry for teasing her too hard earlier. That should clear the air,' Max decided internally.
He turned to face her. "Hey, I'm sorry—"
Before he could even finish his first sentence, Bellatrix interrupted him loudly.
"I—I'm sorry for—"
She stopped abruptly, biting her lower lip. She then let out a highly forced, awkward laugh.
"Hahaha… you—you can speak first. Go ahead," she gestured toward him with a shaky hand.
Max waved his hand dismissively and replied with a calm tone. "Nahh, it seems like whatever you have to say is important. You should speak first."
"No—no! You—you should speak first!" she insisted rapidly, her panic rising again. "You should go first since you're a man!"
Max raised an eyebrow, a highly amused expression crossing his face. He let out a soft laugh.
"Uhh, isn't the old saying supposed to be 'Ladies first'?" Max pointed out gently.
Bellatrix widened her gray eyes as her face reddened even further in profound shame.
'Argh! Why did I even say that?! Lauren, you absolute fool! Arrrggghhhh!!!' her internal voice screamed at her lack of basic social skills.
"Yeah, yeah, that's exactly what I meant!" Bellatrix backpedaled quickly, trying to salvage the conversation. "But you should just go first. I'm just… I'm just a little nervous because you surprised me by coming here unannounced."
She began nervously preening her blonde hair, tucking loose strands behind her ear to give her trembling hands something to do.
Max nodded his head slowly, deciding to let her off the hook. "Ahhh… I see, I see. My apologies for the sudden intrusion."
He then reached into his pocket and held out his hand.
"Ohh! Before I forget why I actually came over here. Here, this is my way to say sorry for teasing you so relentlessly earlier this morning," Max said smoothly, extending the large Toblerone bar toward her.
Bellatrix widened her eyes. A bright, almost cartoonish sparkle seemed to appear in her gray eyes at the sight of the chocolate.
In a flash of movement, she snatched the chocolate bar from his fingers with the speed and precision of a striking cobra. She clutched it tightly to her chest, her bad mood instantly evaporating.
Max just stood there, letting out a quiet sigh as he laughed inwardly.
'Just how insanely fast are her reflexes?!' Max thought, genuinely impressed. 'If she worked in the criminal underworld, I bet she would be the best hitman out there just based on her reaction speed alone. Hahaha…'
"Tha—thank you so much!" Bellatrix said, giving him a quick, respectful bow of her head.
Max waved his hands in the air to reassure her. "Nahh, you shouldn't thank me. After all, it's entirely my fault for teasing you, and…"
He trailed off, his expression turning slightly more serious.
Bellatrix raised her head from the bow. She raised her right eyebrow, sensing the shift in his tone.
"And?" she prompted, her scientific curiosity overriding her embarrassment.
Max sighed heavily. He looked around her apartment, noting the complex glass beakers, the heavy textbooks, and the organized chaos of her workspace. He was not used to asking for help. In his original life on Earth, he always did his jobs solo. Relying on others was a weakness that got you killed. And when he lived as Sylan the Dark Lord, he never asked for help; he simply issued dark orders to his demonic generals. Being vulnerable with a civilian felt unnatural.
"I…." Max paused, struggling to form the words. "Sigh. I need your help."
Bellatrix's posture straightened immediately. The flustered girl vanished, replaced by the sharp, analytical chemist.
"Where? What do I need to help you with? Ohh!!!"
Her gray eyes lit up with sudden realization. She pointed a finger at him.
"Is this about your stalker?! The green-eyed person in the black van from last night?" she asked eagerly.
Max nodded his head slowly, confirming her suspicion.
"Yeah. It is," Max replied. He then asked a probing question. "Also, did you happen to watch the morning news today?"
Bellatrix shook her head side to side.
"Nahh. I never watch the news," she admitted, tearing off a piece of the Toblerone wrapper. "It's not my hobby, it's always depressing, and honestly, I'm always way too busy with my chemical experiments anyway. Why? Did something happen?"
Max nodded, grateful that she was out of the loop. It made his cover story easier to sell.
"I see, I see. Well, at the very least, I will tell you exactly why I need your help right now," Max said, taking a step further into the room and keeping his voice low.
Max then began to feed her a carefully constructed version of the truth. He told her about the serial killer currently terrorizing the city. He explained the grim connection to the stalker in the black van.
However, he deliberately omitted crucial details. He didn't tell her how he truly knew the stalker and the killer were the same person. He didn't tell her about his encrypted calls with the Information Maester on the dark web, or his deep knowledge of underworld assassination patterns. He lied smoothly, claiming that he only managed to connect the dots based on a police report he saw on the morning news.
In reality, the specific details he knew were highly classified, known only to him, the Maester, and a few high-ranking brokers in the criminal underworld.
Bellatrix listened intently, chewing on a piece of chocolate. She nodded her head slowly as she processed the grim information.
"I see, I see…" she muttered, her analytical mind working fast.
"…So, in short, what you are telling me is that this bastard who is stalking you in the black van is actually an active serial killer?"
"Yeah, Bell. And it seems that, mostly, his recent victims are people who specifically have amber eyes. Which is the exact same color as mine," Max explained, pointing a finger toward his own face.
Bellatrix stopped chewing. She swallowed hard, her gray eyes widening in horror as the severity of the situation hit her.
"Shit… yeah, this is really bad news," Bellatrix said, her voice dropping to an anxious whisper. "If what you said is correct, and that person's victims all share the same eye color as you, and they are parking outside your window… it seems like a clear warning that you are next on their list. Max, if that's true, then you are completely cooked!"
Max raised a confused eyebrow at her choice of words.
"Cooked what?" Max asked, genuinely lost.
Bellatrix threw her hands in the air in exasperation.
"You're cooked! Done for! Finished!" she exclaimed. "Don't you know the basic slang of Gen Alphas on the internet?!"
Max let out a deep, internal sigh. The generational gap was hitting him hard. He had spent three hundred million years living in a medieval fantasy world fighting knights and dragons. Before that, he was an isolated, socially anxious assassin who rarely used social media. Modern internet culture was completely alien to him.
'Ahh, I know now. This highly intelligent woman is also a crippling online addict. She probably only watches those brainrot meme videos while she does her experiments,' Max deduced inwardly, feeling incredibly old.
"Ahh… I see, I see," Max nodded slowly, rubbing his chin. He felt like a total boomer trying to understand a foreign language.
"So….." Bellatrix dragged the word out, bringing the conversation back to the life-or-death situation at hand.
"…What exactly do I need to do to help you?!" she asked, ready to be assigned a task.
Max gathered his resolve. He looked her directly in the eyes and delivered his request.
"I need you to teach me…." Max paused for dramatic effect.
"…How to be a chemist."
Bellatrix stared at him blankly for a long, quiet moment. She blinked once. Twice.
"Ehh?" she let out a highly confused sound.
Her confusion rapidly morphed into sheer disbelief.
"Wha—WHAT IS BEING A CHEMIST GONNA DO TO HELP YOU FIND A SERIAL STALKER?!" Bellatrix shouted at him, throwing her arms wide open. "Are we going to test the pH balance of his tire tracks?!"
Max sighed heavily. He had fully expected this exact reaction. He knew that, to a normal civilian, him learning basic chemistry sounded completely irrelevant to stopping a murderer.
But he needed to learn the practical, modern applications of being a chemist. In his past lives, he relied on dark magic, void tendrils, and destructive spells. Here on Earth, he had none of that. His physical combat skills were elite, but if he was walking into a trap set by a ghost, he needed an ace up his sleeve.
Furthermore, the fact that the stalker was already hunting him meant the timeline was broken. The butterfly effect of his transmigration was rushing his destined death, which was supposed to happen a full year from now. He didn't have time to gather his old underworld arsenal. He had to build weapons from scratch, right here in the apartment building.
"I need it because I need a trump card," Max said, his voice dropping into a low, deadly serious tone that sent a chill down her spine.
He took a step closer to her. "I need to learn how to make weapons. I need to know how to mix chemicals that can at least deliver potent toxins if I end up having to fight that person hand-to-hand. Or, at the very least, I need you to teach me how to make volatile, unstable bombs using household materials so I can catch that bastard off guard and kill him before he kills me."
Bellatrix stared at his cold amber eyes. She let out a heavy sigh, raising both hands to aggressively massage her temples. She was getting a migraine. She really couldn't understand the logic behind his insane plan.
Why was he talking about building bombs and mixing toxins in a kitchen? If a normal person had a serial killer stalking them, they would just call the police. Or, if they had money, they would hire a private investigator. Why was his first instinct to become a domestic terrorist?
"Hey…" Bellatrix said slowly, lowering her hands from her head. Her gray eyes narrowed as her sharp intellect began to tear his story apart.
"…Tell me the actual truth, Max."
Max remained silent, his expression unreadable.
"Instead of simply calling the police, or at least hiring a professional private detective to track that person's whereabouts, or hell, hiring some private armed security to guard your door… why is your first instinct to ask me how to build lethal chemical weapons?"
She took a step closer to him, pointing an accusing finger at his chest.
"Tell me the truth! I knew something was incredibly off the moment you started telling me about that person. And don't even try to sell me that 'I connected the dots from the morning news' crap!"
Her voice rose in anger, insulted that he thought she was gullible.
"Do you really think I'm an idiot? Do you think I didn't read the deep online forums about those incidents? The news hasn't released the amber eye connection publicly yet; that's only being discussed on encrypted boards! So how do you know all of this, huh?!" Bellatrix demanded, her hands planted firmly on her hips.
Max let out a long, defeated sigh. He stood there in genuine shock. He had underestimated her. It seemed Bellatrix had easily figured out that the carefully sanitized information he gave her was a blatant lie. She was far too smart to be fooled by a half-truth.
He closed his eyes, running a hand through his amber hair in frustration. If he kept lying, she would kick him out. If he told her the truth, she might call the cops on him. But he needed her laboratory setup.
"Will you…." Max started, his voice quiet.
"Will you what?" Bellatrix snapped back, impatient.
Max opened his eyes, letting the cold, dangerous aura of his past bleed into the room.
"…Will you believe me if I tell you that I am a former professional assassin? And a highly paid, former hitman from the criminal underworld?" Max said, his tone dead serious, devoid of any joking warmth.
Bellatrix stared at his intense face. For a second, the room was completely silent.
Then, she scoffed loudly. She threw her head back and let out a sharp, dismissive laugh.
"Hah! Yeah, right! Do you really think I would believe your edgy, action-movie bullshit?" Bellatrix mocked him, grinning widely. "You? A hitman? You give away chocolate bars and blush at swimsuit posters!"
But as her laughter faded, she looked back at Max's face. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't laughing along. His amber eyes were cold, hollow, and filled with a dark, violent history that made her breath catch in her throat. The relaxed neighbor was gone. The predator was standing in her living room.
Her grin slowly vanished. The color drained from her face.
"Do—don't tell me—" Bellatrix stammered, her knees suddenly feeling weak.
She took a step back, true fear finally entering her gray eyes.
"YOU—YOU ARE ACTUALLY A FORMER HITMAN?!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.
Before the echo of her scream could even bounce off the walls, Max moved.
With terrifying, inhuman speed, he crossed the distance between them. He raised his hand and clamped it firmly over her mouth, muffling her scream instantly.
"Shh, shh!" Max hissed urgently, his eyes darting toward the walls to see if the neighbors heard. "Lower your damn voice! I don't want everyone in this apartment complex to find out that I'm a goddamn retired hitman! Alright?"
He glared down at her, his expression intense.
Bellatrix, trembling like a leaf under his firm grip, slowly nodded her head up and down in frantic agreement.
Seeing her comply, Max slowly and carefully retracted his hand from her mouth, taking a step back to give her space to breathe.
He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The secret was out.
"Yes. It's the truth. I am a former assassin…" Max confessed, his voice heavy with the weight of his past.
"…And a former Top 10 Most Wanted fugitive in America by the federal agencies."
Bellatrix widened her eyes to an impossible degree as she heard his confession. She clutched the fabric of her lab coat, her mind reeling from the revelation.
Max looked out the window, continuing his grim introduction.
"You may know me by many names from the news broadcasts years ago, or from the deep web forums you clearly frequent…"
He turned his amber eyes back to her, delivering his infamous alias.
"…But the people in the underworld call me—"
"Der Geist und der Sensenmann." (The Ghost, and the Reaper).
He spoke the German words with flawless, chilling pronunciation.
Bellatrix gasped sharply. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth.
"You—you are him!" Bellatrix whispered, her voice shaking violently.
Max sighed inwardly, preparing himself for the worst.
'Now I'm totally screwed,' Max thought to himself. 'Now, as what she said earlier, I am officially cooked. Goddamnit, Max. You broke the absolute Number 1 rule of being an assassin: never reveal your true identity to a civilian!'
He looked at Bellatrix carefully. She was completely silent from the moment he spoke his alias. She was just staring at him, her body frozen in place.
'I bet she is terrified of me now. She's probably calculating how fast she can run to the door,' Max laughed inwardly, a bitter, cynical feeling settling in his chest. He was a monster to the world. It was only natural she would fear him.
"I…" Bellatrix finally spoke, her voice breaking the heavy silence.
Max braced himself for the screaming to start again.
"….I'm your biggest fan!" Bellatrix suddenly squealed, practically vibrating with excitement.
She dropped her hands from her mouth. Her gray eyes weren't filled with terror. They were filled with bright, shining sparkles of pure, unadulterated admiration. She looked at him like he was a rockstar who had just walked into her living room.
Max physically recoiled.
"Wha—what?" Max choked out. He was in complete shock, momentarily taken aback by her absurd reaction. He had expected fear, disgust, or panic. He had not expected fangirling.
"You—you don't know about your own heroic deeds, do you?!" Bellatrix asked, stepping excitedly toward him, entirely forgetting the fact that he was a lethal killer.
Max slowly shook his head side to side, completely lost. "Heroic deeds?"
"You're a hero, dude!" Bellatrix declared loudly, her German accent thickening with passion. She began gesturing wildly with her hands as she recounted his history.
"You are the legendary vigilante who stopped that massive, untouchable cartel organization down in Texas! The ones who were selling young, innocent girls for child trafficking! The police couldn't touch them, but you did! And you also killed that monstrous cartel leader so brutally! The deep web forums say you strapped him to a chair in a factory and made him drink pure, molten iron as punishment for his sins!"
Max stood frozen, his mouth slightly open. He slowly nodded his head, though his internal monologue was screaming in confusion.
'Wait, did I really do it like that?' Max thought, trying to remember a hit from nearly a decade ago.
The memories slowly surfaced.
'Oh, right. I only killed that entire cartel compound because that was the specific job I was hired for. A rival cartel paid me a massive sum to wipe out their competition. And as for the leader… my client specifically told me, for an extra five million dollars, that she wanted to see that specific leader die a slow, agonizing death caused by molten iron. So, I forcefully poured it down his throat to fulfill the contract parameters. I didn't do it for justice.'
Bellatrix wasn't finished. She was on a roll.
"And there's another famous one too! You single-handedly wiped out that big-ass biker gang on the east coast! Because those absolute bastards assaulted and ruined the life of a young girl, who just happened to be the daughter of the state police commissioner! You avenged her when the law couldn't!"
Max blinked, another memory clicking into place.
'Yeah, that was one of my highest-paying jobs too! That damn police commissioner was the one who secretly hired me using untraceable funds. He paid me specifically to torture them and slowly kill them one by one to send a message. I didn't avenge anyone out of the goodness of my heart; I was just fulfilling a lucrative assassination contract.'
Max let out a long, internal sigh as Bellatrix kept going on and on, passionately talking about his long list of supposed "heroic deeds" and "vigilante justice."
He opened his mouth, wanting to clear the massive misunderstanding. He wanted to tell her that he wasn't a hero in the dark. He was a weapon bought by the highest bidder.
But as he looked at her bright, admiring eyes, he abruptly retracted the idea. He needed her help to survive the coming year. If this ridiculous misunderstanding about him being a dark knight of justice would make her eagerly help him build chemical weapons, then he would absolutely use it to his advantage.
Max forced a humble, slightly embarrassed smile onto his face and raised his hands gently.
"Alright, alright, Bell. That's enough praising for one day!" Max said, chuckling softly.
Bellatrix immediately stopped speaking. She clamped her mouth shut, a slight blush returning to her cheeks.
"Di—did I go too far? Am I rambling?" she asked nervously.
Max shook his head and let out a warm laugh. "Nahh, it's all good. You just surprised me. And yeah, I suppose I am the 'hero' you are speaking of."
He laughed smoothly as he said it, though his mind was a whirlwind of cynical truth.
'Seriously,' Max thought to himself, watching her beam with pride. 'I just freed those kids from the cartel because it benefited my escape route during the shootout. And the other times, like saving a goddamn school bus full of kids from a terrorist cell? I only did that because a wealthy politician paid me to ensure his kid on that bus survived. That's all.'
He looked down at his own hands, the hands that had taken so many lives across two different worlds.
'If she really thinks I'm a good person, she is dead wrong. I am a deeply morally grey type of person. If I save everyone, it's not because I am inherently kind, nor because my conscience suddenly told me to do the right thing. I do it because it brings me benefits. Or, in this current case, because it ensures my own survival.'
He pushed the dark thoughts away and focused on the brilliant chemist standing in front of him.
"Then…" Max said, his tone softening into a genuine request.
"…Will you help me stop this serial killer, Bell?"
Bellatrix didn't hesitate for a single second. She nodded her head repeatedly, her blonde hair bouncing with energy.
"Sure! Absolutely! I will do anything I can to help my idol catch a murderer!" she declared fiercely.
"Good." Max smiled a sharp, predatory smile.
'I really didn't expect this outcome, huh?' Max said inwardly, feeling a surge of dark amusement. 'One single, massive misunderstanding regarding my bloody past will apparently lead me to greatness in this timeline.'
He looked around her apartment, already formulating a plan to convert her kitchen into a makeshift munitions lab.
'Should I use this convenient misunderstanding later on to force her to help me live a peaceful life?' Max mused inwardly.
He looked back at her eager, smiling face, and his conscience—what little he had left—pricked him slightly.
'Nahh, let's not abuse her trust completely. She's a good neighbor. And besides—'
His amber eyes hardened into a cold, lethal glare, his mind snapping back to the threat looming outside the building.
'I should focus entirely on that fucker in the black van!' Max inwardly said, tightly clenching his fist at his side. The hunt was officially on, and the Reaper was back in business.