Leroy Theron walked rigidly toward an apartment building in a secluded area on the outskirts of the city.
His footsteps were silent despite his size. His expression was cold, detached and empty.
When he reached the door of apartment 7B, he didn't pause. He didn't knock nor did he even reach for the handle.
He simply walked through it.
The solid wood door offered no resistance, his body passing through it like it was made of smoke.
Inside, a young man who had been lounging on his couch watching television and chuckling to what www displaying on the screen, jumped to his feet with a startled yelp.
"What the—how did you—" The man's eyes were wide with terror as he stared at Leroy.
"How did you get in here?"
Leroy rolled his eyes, his jaw tightening with irritation.
"Why does everybody ask me that today? It's getting exhausting." he muttered, his voice flat and robotic.
He took a step forward, his dark eyes locking onto the trembling man.
"I'm a half-demon, half-human. And I'm here to end your life. That has answered your question, right?"
The young man staggered backward, his face draining of all color.
"W-what? Why? What did I do? I haven't done anything wrong!" His voice cracked with fear.
"I'm not in the mood for explanations," Leroy said emotionlessly.
In a blur of movement too fast for human eyes to track, Leroy closed the distance between them.
His hand shot out and grabbed the man's throat, lifting him off the ground with effortless strength.
The man choked, his hands clawing uselessly at Leroy's iron grip.
Leroy stretched out his other hand, palm up and his glittering sword materialized out of thin air in a shimmer of light, the blade gleaming wickedly.
"What- no- please..." The man struggled for words, tears already welling up in his eyes but Leroy didn't seem affected by that in any way.
In fact, it was as if that irritated him further. His nose scrunched up and without hesitation, Leroy drove the blade through the man's chest.
The man's eyes widened and a strangled gasp escaped his lips. Then his body went limp.
Leroy pulled the sword free and dropped the corpse onto the floor. He stretched out his hand again, and the sword vanished into thin air, dissolving like mist.
Afterwards, the dead man's body burst into flames, just from Leroy narrowing his red eyes on it.
The fire was unnatural, consuming only the corpse rapidly and hungrily. There was no smoke or smell, just white-hot flames that devoured flesh and bone alike.
Leroy stood over the burning body, his expression hardened, emotionless.
"The Succubus Demon Queen must not be fed," he said coldly, his voice echoing in the empty apartment.
Within seconds, the body was reduced to nothing, leaving behind no remnant. Not even ash was remained.
And then, through magic, the scorch marks on the floor vanished. The apartment returned to its clean state, as though nothing had happened there at all.
Leroy turned and walked out without another word.
He moved through the door the same way he had entered, passing through it like a ghost.
Outside, he walked rigidly to his sleek black luxury car parked in the shadows. He climbed into the driver's seat, slammed the door shut, and gripped the steering wheel tightly.
For a moment, he just sat there, his jaw clenched, his knuckles white.
Then he started the engine and sped off into the night.
~~~~~~~~~
By the time Leroy reached his penthouse, it was well past midday.
The building was modern, towering, and expensive. This was the kind of place where only the ultra-wealthy lived. Leroy's penthouse occupied the entire top floor.
"What's wrong with my name? Why wouldn't he like it?" Those were the questions that had been plaguing Leroy's mind as he drove home.
It was as if that was all that mattered to him in the world whole.
"Should I just change the name?" He mumbled under his breath, his lips coming together in a pout.
Then he stepped out of the private elevator and into his home.
The place was large. Huge windows that showed the city skyline and luxurious furniture adorned the spacious sitting room.
And yet, it felt empty. Every corner of Leroy's place was sparse and cold.
Despite his wealth—wealth that had no clear source, no traceable origin—Leroy lived simply. He owned little.
As he walked into the sitting room, a middle-aged woman with completely gray hair emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
Magdalene. His housekeeper that doubled as chef. She was one of the few persons he allowed in his space.
"Where have you been?" she asked, her tone a mix of concern and mild reproach. "Your assistant came home earlier and told me you rushed out to kill a new collector."
Leroy didn't answer immediately.
He walked to the large leather couch and sank into it heavily, his head tipping back against the cushion and slowly, his eyes closed.
Then he let out a deep, heavy sigh... One that conveyed exhaustion and frustration.
Magdalene's eyebrows furrowed. That sigh was unusual. In all the years she had known Leroy, she'd rarely heard him express anything so human like that.
"What's wrong?" she asked quietly, stepping closer.
Leroy opened his eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling.
"The new collector I was supposed to kill is my soulmate." he divulged, his voice coming out flat.
Magdalene gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
"Oh my! The one you've been waiting for, for five hundred years?" She asked and Leroy nodded once.
Magdalene gasped again and silence filled the room.
Slowly, the woman lowered herself into the chair across from him.
"Leroy... What are you going to do?"she said carefully, her voice trembling slightly. She had heard about what he had been through, roaming around the world without a partner for those years.
Leroy ran a hand through his hair in frustration, his fingers gripping the strands tightly. He let out another heavy sigh, this one even more strained than the last.
His face hardened, his jaw clenched and his eyes grew cold again, shutting down whatever flicker of emotion had surfaced.
"Well," he muttered bitterly, his voice low and resigned:
"What choice do I have?"