I woke to screams.
Not dreams.
Not echoes.
Real screams—raw, broken, tearing through the walls like claws.
Sylphia.
I ran before my mind could catch up with my body, following the stench of blood and desperation down the corridor. The bathroom door was locked.
I didn't think.
I broke it.
She was naked.Drenched in her own blood.
Bite marks tore across her skin—deep, frantic, animalistic. Her claws were buried in her chest, ripping at herself as if death were something she could force through sheer will. Her eyes glowed crimson, tears and blood bleeding together until I couldn't tell which was which.
Her wounds weren't fatal.
They couldn't be.
Her life belonged to me now. Jester made that painfully clear.
And yet I stood frozen—because sometimes death isn't evil. Sometimes it's mercy. Sometimes it's the only relief left.
And I had denied her even that.
I saw myself in her.
The old me.Blood-soaked.Crawling.Cursing my own existence.
My body trembled.
A familiar voice slithered out of my skull.
"You won't let her die," it whispered, amused."Just like Lucifer and Lilith never let you."
Sylphia raised her arm again, claws shaking as she aimed for her chest.
The voice laughed.
"Leave her. She won't die anyway. And why would a monster like you care?"
My legs refused to move.My mouth sealed shut.
Because I knew.
I knew this would happen.
She'd been starving herself—denying her hunger, despising what she'd become—while I watched and did nothing. Fear. Guilt. Cowardice. I didn't know which one blinded me first.
Then she whispered—
"Why can't I just die?"
The same words I once begged the darkness with.
And I finally understood.
It was never about dying.
It was about wanting the pain to stop.
I moved.
Her claws struck——but not her chest.
My hand.
Pain tore through me as I stepped between her and herself. Blood streamed down my arm. I didn't look at her. I stared past her—at the image of my old self—watching it crack and dissolve.
I looked into her trembling, confused eyes.
"You deserve to live," I said quietly."My kind deserves to die. Not yours."
I smiled—a weak, ugly thing hiding guilt and fear.
"You look beautiful," I added softly."Did you change your hair?"
She broke.
She shoved me to the floor, straddling me as blood and tears poured from her body onto mine. Her voice shattered.
"Why won't you let me die?"
I wanted to answer.I really did.
But she tore at my clothes and buried her teeth into my neck—driven by hunger, rage, despair.
It was ironic.I always end up being eaten by women who despise me.
Pain bloomed—deep, intoxicating, draining both body and soul. My fingers dug into the floor as my strength faded.
"I'm selfish," I murmured, breathless."I know."
I ran my fingers through her hair, just like my mother once did to me.
"Just… bear with me."
When it ended, she collapsed—small, fragile, empty—like a child who cried itself to sleep.
I noticed Jester barely pretending to hide behind the broken door.
This man never fails to disappoint.
"I can see you, Jester," I muttered."Help me."
He laughed—delighted.
Together, we cleaned her wounds. Dressed her. Laid her gently in bed.
She looked peaceful.Too peaceful.
"Innocent," I whispered."Despite everything."
The image of my old self appeared again, sitting beside her, playing with her hair.
"Bit late for that," he sneered."She almost killed you."
I sighed deeply.
"It wasn't that bad," I said quietly."Her lips were… impressive."Then softer:"And I'm the one who turned her into this."
He laughed.
"Hopeless.Do you really think you can redeem yourself?"
I smiled faintly.
"Redemption isn't what I want," I said."They deserved their fate. You know that.""And I'm a monster—everyone keeps reminding me. Why should I care about being saved? I'm the Sin of Corruption."
He leaned closer, grin sharp.
"Then why am I still here?""Maybe you're just justifying cruelty with a title."
His words didn't hurt.
Because he was right.Or maybe they did—and I'm just too broken to tell anymore.
I leaned in until our foreheads almost touched.
"I don't need an illusion to tell me what I already know," I said bitterly."This world is rotten. My mother's sin is tearing me apart from the inside."
He grinned wider.
Jester's voice cut through the room—
"You talking to yourself again, or doing something weird while Sylphia's asleep?""anyway go take a shower. You smell like hell."
The illusion faded.
So did I.
-
I stood in front of the bathroom mirror after washing the blood away.
The scar had grown—darker, deeper.
It felt like I was carrying her pain.
But the truth was worse.
I had forced her to carry mine.
My eyes were dead like a lifeless void .My hair half white—like a corpse pretending to age.The bite mark on my neck was the only thing I didn't hate.
"I really look hideous," I whispered.
My mother's reflection appeared behind me, smiling warmly—just like when I was a child.
"No," she said softly."You look beautiful, my son."
I realized then—her soul never left me. It couldn't. I didn't hate that.
"Thank you," I whispered.
Outside, Jester waited with coffee and cigarettes.
I smiled—genuinely.
We sat beneath the crimson moon, smoke curling upward like confessions.
"I always wondered," I said, staring at the sky,"why the moon down here bleeds red while the one above is colourless."
Jester watched me, amused.
"Humans up there can't afford to be honest," I continued."They pretend to be virtuous, kind, faithful—until they fade into nothing , colourless like their moon ."
"And down here?" he asked.
"Here," I said,"they already paid the price for being themselves.So their true colours shine indifferently like the crimson moon is ."
He smiled darkly.
"Angels, demons, humans—same thing," he said."All hypocrites hiding behind masks."
"Like the Jester you're playing?" I asked.
He laughed.
"So you won't ask me for help?"
I stared at his burning cigarette.
"I won't refuse it."
He crushed the cigarette beneath his foot.
"Everything you need is already inside your head," he said."Lilith left it there. Waiting for you to face her."
I didn't hesitate.
My claws sank into my skull—
Not to die.
But to know.