Kairo dashed into his apartment like a man on fire, the door slamming behind him with such force that if it were sentient, it would've cursed him out and FILED A RESTRAINING ORDER!
The moment he stepped in, that smell, the putrid, metallic stench from his dream, no, not a dream, from the office wrapped around his nose like a rotten blanket.
He gagged, stumbling back a step as it punched into his nose.
"God what the hell is that?!" he croaked, eyes watering. "No. No, no, no, no"
He dropped his bag to the floor with a thud, heart jackhammering in his chest. His legs moved on their own, pacing back and forth like a hamster on energy drinks.
"This can't be real. It was a dream, just a dream," he muttered, running a trembling hand down his face. "People don't wake up from death. That's not how dying works!"
He paused only to resume pacing even faster, trying to list every logical reason in existence. "Maybe I passed out. Yeah. Hallucination. Stress. Food poisoning. Probably expired noodles."
But logic couldn't hold water in a cup full of holes.
"There's no way I encountered a demon. Demons were exterminated. That's what they said, all of them. Gone. The Gate's been sealed for more than a decade," he thought aloud.
Then he stopped pacing, a frightening thought creeped into his mind.
Unless the Gate, isn't sealed anymore.
He collapsed onto the couch, fingers digging into his scalp as he dragged his hand through his messy hair. If what he saw was real, and every instinct told him it was, this was way bigger than some freak job scam.
This was extinction-level stuff. Humanity hanging by a thread.
He had to report it. It was the right thing to do.
But. ..
"No. No way. I'd be jailed the second I step in. Who applies for that kind of job without checking what it is?"
And how would he explain how he killed those things? He had no clue what he even did. Just instinct and panic. If he was wrong, if they weren't demons, then he murdered three humans. That's not prison time. That's death penalty material.
Then a thought struck him like cold water.
"What about that pale receptionist?" he whispered.
His stomach twisted, bile rising up his throat. He covered his mouth, staggering to the sink, eyes wide and unfocused.
"Did I, did I kill four people?" he croaked.
The walls felt like they were closing in, and for a brief moment, he wished he could just reset the day like in a video game. But there was no respawn.
He was a seventeen-year-old, supposed to be worrying about homework or whether Boruto got good again, not demon blood, murder, and war-level secrets.
Trying to breathe through the rising nausea, he stumbled back to his couch and reached for the TV remote. "Let's see what the world thinks of me now."
He turned on the small television, the one he only bought because he couldn't not watch Boruto, even if everyone said it was trash. He flipped through the channels until he found the local news station.
And there it was.
The news anchor, an overly serious woman with pursed lips, looked up from her papers.
"..And now to our breaking story, authorities have begun investigation into a gruesome murder case in the Northside Business Tower."
Kairo leaned forward, blood cold.
The anchor continued. "It appears two individuals were found dead on the 21st floor. Initial reports suggest a confrontation broke out between the suspect and the victims."
Two? Kairo blinked. That didn't add up. There were four people on that floor, two guys and two girls. Unless….
"They escaped," he whispered. "The girls, they saw my face."
The screen showed a still image of the office floor, except it was heavily blurred, far more than usual. Even the pools of blood looked like pixelated red soup.
"They're covering it up," he muttered. "They know it wasn't normal. They know it was demons."
The anchor spoke again. "Authorities believe the suspect may have had a disagreement with the deceased, possibly over the employment terms."
That almost made sense. As much sense as any of this madness could make.
But then came the part that made his heart stop.
"We've obtained exclusive footage from a security camera moments after the attack," the anchor said.
A grainy image flickered onto the screen.
Kairo's jaw dropped.
It was him, him blasting through the glass window and leaping into the downpour like a Marvel superhero.
The 21st floor.
One jump.
No hesitation.
His eyes widened, and he instinctively checked his arms, his legs, his ribs, searching for the millions of broken bones he should've had.
But there was nothing.
"I should be a pancake" he muttered, horrified.
The anchor concluded, "Due to the heavy rain, the suspect's trail was quickly lost. Authorities are asking the public to report any unusual behavior."
He exhaled deeply and muted the TV.
"Okay" he whispered, rubbing his temples. "No more denial. That dream? Real. The demons? Real. The death? Real. And now the police are hunting me down like I'm some serial killer."
A twisted logic formed in his head.
Maybe I could turn myself in. Say I didn't know the job was shady. Say I acted in self-defense. And I didn't kill people, I killed demons.
But how did he kill them? He didn't know. And they'd want to know. Scientists. Authorities. People who cut you open just to see what makes you tick.
Worse, what if they thought he was also a demon?
"Nope. Screw that. Not ending up as lab meat," he muttered. "They can't know it was me."
He stood up, now on a mission. Step one: destroy evidence.
He searched the trashcan of his room, clothes scattered everywhere, instant noodle packets stacked like trophies, he then found the shirt he wore under the bed. As he pulled it out, the smell hit like a punch in the nose.
It reeked. So the smell was from the blood.
Without wasting a second, he shoved the demon-soaked shirt into an iron bucket he used for cooking rice when the stove broke and lit it on fire. It hissed, crackled, and burned.
As he watched the flames, his mind flicked back to the dream. No, not a dream. The fight.
"Wait, I had a briefcase," he realized, eyes widening.
He turned the room upside down, searching every corner, cupboard, and sock drawer.
Nothing.
"Don't tell me I left it there.."
He looked at the dying flames and then at the door.
"No choice."
He grabbed a jacket, snuffed the fire out, and bolted from the apartment.
The wind was biting as he walked through the quiet streets toward the park. His mind raced, trying to remember how he got this job in the first place. Some online listing? A flyer?
He racked his brain, but the memory just wasn't there. Nothing. A blank.
He reached the park, same one beside the building and stopped short of approaching the tower. There were probably cops crawling all over it.
Instead, he veered through the back of the park, casually passing families playing at swings and a broccoli-haired kid nervously hitting on a chick that made kairo wondered how he pulled her.
Then his skin prickled.
Someone was watching him.
He glanced back, nothing but laughing families and awkward teenage romance.
"Calm down. Guilt's playing tricks," he muttered.
He reached the edge of the park, behind a row of dumpsters, hoping to find a way into the building from the back.
That's when the smell hit him again.
Demon blood.
He turned, following the trail, and there it was, the briefcase sitting in a dumpster like it belonged there, chilling with banana peels and soda cans.
He grabbed it, grimacing. "No wonder they didn't find this thing."
He opened it quickly. Nothing much inside, just two papers with his basic info. Except one of them was…
He froze.
Blood.
The scent was strong, and part of the page was torn out.
And that part, held his personal details, address, phone number…everything.
The color drained from his face.
"They have it," he whispered. "They're coming for me."
The briefcase clutched in a death grip, he sprinted back to his apartment like hell was chasing him.
Back at the park, sitting alone on a bench, a woman in plain clothes watched the dumpster silently. Her face was pale, almost ghostlike, lips pressed in a tight line.
Her eyes narrowed.
She muttered under her breath, venom in every word.
"That bastard."