Chapter 375: Demon Crowley
"I'm not going to kill you," Crowley said calmly. "In fact, I'll make sure you're healed—so you can live on."
"Every demon will learn through you… the price of betraying me."
As he spoke, he took out a small vial from his coat.
"No—!!"
Amid Abeni's agonized screams, thick black smoke began pouring out from the nurse's eyes, ears, mouth, and nose—writhing like something alive as it was drawn into the vial.
Within seconds, it was over.
Abeni was gone.
The unfortunate nurse—whether lucky or not—collapsed to the ground, unconscious. But his chest still rose and fell. He was alive.
Now, in the entire room—
only Frank and Crowley remained awake.
Frank had watched everything unfold—the conflict between demons, the fragments of their conversation that he only half understood.
All he could do now… was pray.
Pray that after dealing with the traitor, Crowley would simply leave.
That he wouldn't get dragged into this.
Those hours of Abeni's screams still echoed in his ears. Just listening to it had felt like enduring torture himself.
But things never went the way Frank hoped.
After sealing the vial and putting it away, Crowley's gaze shifted—
and locked onto him.
"…Do you… need something else?" Frank asked, forcing himself to speak politely.
The psychological pressure Crowley gave off was overwhelming.
"The traitor's been dealt with. Nothing urgent," Crowley said casually.
"…Then shouldn't you be heading back?" Frank asked after a pause.
Crowley smiled faintly.
"No rush."
"I'd like to have a chat with you first. Get to know you a little."
As he spoke, he pulled over a chair and sat down directly across from Frank.
Instinctively, Frank leaned back slightly—putting a bit more distance between them.
Watching Crowley's expression, a phrase instinctively surfaced in Frank's mind—
a smiling tiger.
"There's really nothing for us to get acquainted over," Frank said stiffly. "We probably won't meet again."
"No, no," Crowley replied lightly. "If things continue like this, we'll be seeing each other again very soon."
Frank froze for a moment.
"You don't have long left to live," Crowley continued, almost kindly. "And with your… rather colorful past, you'll definitely end up in Hell after you die. So, unless something unexpected happens, we'll meet again soon enough."
"…Well, thank you for that," Frank said dryly, swallowing the urge to curse.
"What exactly do you want?" he asked bluntly.
"I already told you," Crowley said. "Just getting to know you."
"I only noticed that traitor because of you. Abeni may have been disloyal, but he was a very capable demon—he dealt with hunters, priests, all sorts of troublemakers, and he hid himself well. Yet you managed to send him back to Hell."
"That made me curious. So I looked into it… and discovered he was a traitor."
"…No need to thank me," Frank muttered, wishing the conversation would end already.
"Oh, but I must," Crowley said with a smile. "I'm a businessman. I believe in fair exchange. You helped me, so I'll help you. I don't like owing favors."
"You set up a summoning ritual earlier, didn't you? That means you have a wish you want fulfilled."
"If I'm not mistaken… you want to cure your illness." His gaze swept over Frank.
Frank hesitated. "You're willing to heal me? No contract, no taking my soul?"
Crowley chuckled, immediately shattering that hope.
"Of course there will be a deal."
"Then I refuse," Frank said without hesitation.
"Don't be so quick to reject it," Crowley replied calmly. "I'm a demon. We don't do charity. Even if I want to help you, it must follow the rules—an exchange of equal value."
"But since I said I'd help you, I will. I'll make a deal with you, fulfill your wish—heal your illness—but I won't take ownership of your soul."
Frank narrowed his eyes. "Really?"
"Really," Crowley said. "Your soul will still belong to you. But a deal requires payment. Instead of your soul… you'll do one thing for me."
"What thing?"
"I can't tell you yet," Crowley replied. "Only after the contract is sealed."
"I'm not going to run around killing people and collecting souls for you," Frank said warily.
He had no intention of becoming someone like Abeni's pawn.
Crowley frowned slightly, clearly displeased.
"I don't operate like that," he said, his tone laced with disdain. "Those crude, primitive methods were outdated centuries ago."
"Back when populations were small—thousands in a city, dozens in a village—and oversight was weak, you could dump a body in a pit and no one would care. That's why such inefficient, risky methods worked."
"But now? Populations are larger, yet surveillance is tighter. One corpse triggers a full investigation. The old ways are inefficient and dangerous."
He paused, then suddenly asked:
"Do you know when corpses attract no attention?"
Frank thought for a moment. "When no one discovers them?"
"Pfft—HAHAHA!" Crowley burst into laughter.
"You really are interesting. I like you more and more."
Wiping imaginary tears from his eyes, he leaned forward slightly.
"Let me tell you—the answer is: on the battlefield."
"No matter how many bodies pile up in war, no one cares. In the end, they're just numbers."
Human history was, at its core, a history of war. Endless conflicts, countless deaths.
Even now, in this so-called peaceful world, wars still raged in distant corners every single day.
And as Crowley's words sank in—
the implication was chilling.
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