CHAPTER 25
THE UNBEATABLE DEMON
Skyler's POV
When I was a child, my own mother tried to kill me.
I could still vividly remember and feel her strong hold on my neck.
It hurt, her sharp nails digging into my throat as her tears fell onto my face.
"I should never have kept you alive! Your father is a liar and a murderer. I wish I had never been deceived by him!"
She was furious at my father, whom I had never met in my entire life. She poured all that anger onto me, even though I was only seven years old.
That very day, before the darkness consumed me, a man arrived. He was well-built, fair-skinned, and had slanted eyes, but that was all I could see.
He wore a mask and a cap, so I couldn't recognize him.
I saw how he pushed my mother away from me, using his body as a shield to protect me.
"What are you doing to my child?!" he growled, clenching his fists and glaring at my mother. I lay on the floor, gasping for breath and coughing.
"You're a murderer! You and your child can go to hell!!" my mother cried out, tears streaming down her face. I saw her grab a knife, intending to harm the man in front of me, but he dodged swiftly.
He quickly disarmed her, and in an instant, my mother's blood sprayed across the house. Some of her blood even splattered on me like a fountain.
It was my worst nightmare, and being a weak child, I lost consciousness there and then.
I found myself in a white room, with police officers standing guard outside, and a beautiful woman in a white uniform attending to me.
At the age of seven, I witnessed my mother being killed by, I guess, my father. I didn't know him; it was the first time I had ever seen him.
The police unhesitatingly informed me that my mother had died at the hands of a psychopath killer they called Red Bull.
I lived with my aunt, my mother's sister. They loved me unlike my mother did. They sent me to school and gave me a good life.
I never forgot where I came from, and the world constantly reminded me of the nightmare I had faced.
I was 13 when I witnessed a teenage boy open the stomach of a pregnant dog.
He was accompanied by a young girl, but I couldn't recognize her because she wore a pink hoodie.
That boy and his heartless act of killing the dog became a catalyst for my ambition.
I dreamed of becoming a detective, someone who would rid the world of demons like him and deliver them to Satan in hell.
I studied that boy and discovered that he was the son of Verick Jeon, the Red Bull killer.
I couldn't understand why a 13-year-old like me was allowed to visit a killer who had surrendered to the authorities, but I seized the opportunity.
I visited him, and just from his eyes, I confirmed that he was the one who killed my mother.
"You're Skyler? You've grown so much, my child." He smiled broadly at me, delighted to see me.
On the day I returned home, I encountered a man, another visitor of Verick Jeon, but I paid him no attention.
I didn't believe he was my father, but when I asked my aunts, they said he was, that I was indeed Verick Jeon's child.
Since that day, I began to despise myself. I wished I had never been born.
For my entire life, I dedicated myself to studying and achieving my dreams.
I studied what kind of demon a psychopath is, and I learned that it can be inherited. I feared for myself. So before I could become like my father, I distanced myself from people.
---
"Hi, my name is Seyren from G11 STEM Alajar. Have you perhaps seen Elowen Maddy Cameron from HUMSS Aguinaldo?" Throughout my high school and senior high school days, no one had the courage to approach me.
As I said, I distanced myself from people. I was curt and gave them hostile looks.
Just like now, when a girl approached me.
"I don't know her," I replied simply.
She hissed and looked around, seemingly unfamiliar with the place.
"Could you accompany me to their room? I don't know where it is," she asked for help. I just stared into her eyes.
"Why would I?"
"Because I think I'm lost... You see, it's the first day of school, and she didn't bring any lunch. So I brought some for her." She showed me her hand holding some snacks.
Who is this Elowen, leaving her food behind?
She even let this girl look like a lost child.
"Fine. Follow me." I said emotionlessly, stood up from the bench, and started walking away.
"Wait up!" Seyren ran after me to keep up.
When we reached the third floor where the Aguinaldo room was, I excused the girl she was looking for.
"Excuse nga po kay Elowen Cameron," I said simply as I stood at the noisy room's door.
Suddenly, the room fell silent as if an angel had passed by.
"Huy Elowen daw!" a boy shouted, and a girl stood up, smiling as she walked towards me.
My world seemed to stop when I saw her. She was beautiful, taking my breath away.
"Sino po sila?" she asked me, her voice soft and gentle. I couldn't speak, stunned by her beauty.
"Ate Maddy!" Luckily, Seyren spoke up.
That day, I met the girl I never thought I would love.
I didn't know what she saw in me, but she began to pester me after that day.
It wasn't long before we became friends until we went to college, and she started courting me.
I liked her, I really did, but I couldn't love. Psychopaths tend to be obsessed with their lovers.
I didn't want her to love someone like me, with demon blood.
And a demon like me would rid the world of the demons that lurked in it.
I achieved my dream through hard work. At the age of 22, I became a police officer, and at 24, I was promoted to detective.
Things happened quickly, but it was due to my perseverance and hard work.
Until another challenge was given to me by God.
Liam's demonic deeds almost caused havoc in this world, and when he killed Mr. Alvarez at the same location where Elowen was, I strove to catch him in the act.
I sought a swift resolution to his capture. So, at his second victim, I pushed my team to work tirelessly.
"Anong ginagawa mo pa dito? Your sister has been looking for you." I asked when I saw Seyren standing outside the hotel.
---
Seyren's POV
Wala pa rin?"
"Nothing, nada, worthless"
I said to my team as I stepped out of the hotel. It was our last day of the search operation here, and tomorrow the hotel would reopen to the public.
Even though it was already night, we were still here.
It was almost 10:30 in the evening, and I hadn't had dinner or lunch yet.
The exhaustion was beginning to set in, but the adrenaline from the case kept me going.
I found myself staring at the round, pale moon.
It was the only thing visible in the dark sky, as the stars were absent, covered by thick clouds.
The moon hung there, like a silent witness to the events unfolding below.
It felt oddly symbolic, the lone moon in the vast darkness, much like how I felt at that momentâisolated in my thoughts amidst the chaos of the investigation.
Looking over my shoulder, I smirked, feeling giddy about this investigation na wala namang patutunguhan.
Silly them to think this murder case was easy.
I'm an elusive woman, I don't give clues, I give answers.
"Anong ginagawa mo pa dito ? Your sister has been looking for you." said Detective Skyler.
I looked at her with a furrowed brow, trying to shake off the daze from my moonlit contemplation.
"You mentioned that a psychopath might have killed Mr. Alvarez. What do you think about Mr. Kim's murderer?" I asked, trying to redirect my thoughts to the case.
I kept asking ang asking, studying her body language and everything.
"What's so special about psychopaths, and why are they so brutal and elusive?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
She sighed, her breath visible in the cold night air, and looked me in the eye with a seriousness that made me shiver more than the wind.
"Psychopaths have no heart, soul, or conscience, so they don't feel emotions. They are elusive because they plan everything they do. Most of them are extremely intelligent, so sometimes, don't be too impressed by the smart people you know," her last statement had a joking tone, making me smile because she still managed to make a joke even in such a grim conversation.
You're right, I have no heart nor soul nor conscience.
I'm so smart that a dumb like you would never understand me.
You should be impressed, Skyler, because the game is just starting.
---
"Name?"
"Wala pang balita, the homeless man was strangled to death with the chain and this burned flag was found inside his mouth." Skyler handed me a small Japanese flag sticker inside a ziplock bag.
She also gave me a photograph of the victim.
In the photo, a man's corpse could be seen.
His tongue was hanging out, and his eyeballs seemed about to pop out.
He was sitting, leaning against the wall of a dirty tunnel that was only used during heavy rain and flooding.
A satanic symbol was drawn into his forehead.
His body was pale, but he was not covered in blood. He looked like he was beaten up to death.
"A beggar reported him as dead, didn't they?" I asked Skyler, who was also staring at the photo.
She nodded, seemingly recognizing the male victim.
"Maybe another beggar killed him," I murmured, placing the picture on my desk.
"I'm passing this case to Sebastian. Can you call him for me?" I said, which startled her.
"No, please!" Her sudden outburst made me furrow my brows.
"What do you mean, no?" I asked.
"Let's handle this case, Seyren," she pleaded, her eyes wide with urgency.
"Why?" I asked, genuinely curious about her insistence.
"Because I feel like this is the work of a psychopath, just like the killing of Larah." Her words made me furrow my brows even more.
"Larah was killed by her husband. She was raped in her own playroom, and her husband strangled her to death. We finished that investigation, Skyler. It's been like two months," I responded.
"Yeah, we found his DNA and freaking semen inside his wife's vagina, and all the evidence pointed to him as the killer. But didn't Larah's important documents like her IDs, birth certificate, and passport go missing? What if the killer took them because he wanted to hide something or leave a clue?"
She turned away from me and posted the picture of the homeless victim on the whiteboard.
I had taken over her office because I was promoted to Head Detective of all the detectives I worked with.
I grinned at her comment.
You're so intelligent, Skyler. But it's too early for you to understand my game.
"Maybe her husband hid those documents. Remember the diary we found at Larah's house? It mentioned that her husband had taken her passport and left her in Mexico. Her husband was toxic." I tried to convince her. What I said was true.
We did find a diary that detailed Larah's life, how she met her friends, her life experiences, how she met her husband, and his terrible behavior.
The diary also mentioned her intense jealousy of Azara because of her good physique.
She even wrote that she would kill Azara if she wanted to.
So when Larah died, many people, especially Azara's fans, were pleased.
"I understand you, Skyler. I know you just want to bring justice for Larah's death, but the killer is already caught. There's even a hearing today, right? I heard he'll be sentenced to life imprisonment." I stood up, leaned on my desk, and crossed my arms.
I looked at her softly, always acting like a gentle little girl, and always fooling them with my act.
"This homeless man, if you really want him to get the justice he deserves, I can transfer you to another team. But I'm afraid I won't be able to get you back on my team. I've already taken advantage of our chief's kindness too much." I pouted, and she sighed before shaking her head.
"No, I'll stay on your team and by your side. I promised Elowen that I would look after you. You're not allowed in heavy action because of your heart transplant," she said to me. I gave her a wide, but fake, smile.
"You're the best sister-in-law in the world," I replied.
"We're going to the hearing later. Are you coming?" I asked, remembering that Azara would attend as a witness.
It was mentioned in Larah's diary that her husband had lusted after Azara, causing frequent fights between them.
Azara's presence as a witness further solidified the accusations against Larah's husband.
Normally, she would reject being a witness, but because it was me (who killed Larah), she agreed to be a witness and completely blamed everything on the man.
"I would. Gusto kong makitang umiyak iyang lalaki na yan." She growls, staring intently at the picture of Larah's face.
I smiled again as I admired the cross I had made on her face; it was perfect.
It reminded me of Billie Mendezâor should I say JEAN ACKERMANâthe fake bitch who stole identities.
"What makes you hate psychopaths, Skyler?" I asked nonchalantly, my smile vanishing as I spoke.
She furrowed her brows, her expression clouded with confusion and a hint of pain.
I could see the turmoil in her eyes, which, to me, was somewhat gratifying.
"It's... complicated..." she murmured, looking away as if to shield herself from further inquiry.
I narrowed my gaze at the back of her head, my thoughts swirling with the knowledge I had meticulously gathered.
This girl...
I knew her background well.
I had studied her in detail.
I was the one who had orchestrated Elowen's courtship of her, all to gain her favor.
I had everything planned out.
Every action, every word, and every second of our interactions was under my precise control.
She thought she could keep the truth about her lineage from meâthat she was the daughter of Verick Jeon.
But I wasn't that dumb.
Besides, it's obvious.
I could see it in her eyes.
The eyes of someone with psychopathic blood. She probably thought I wouldnât notice, but I see it all too clearly.
Sheâs aggressive and stubbornly in denial about the psychopath blood coursing through her veins.
Her behavior, though still subtle, is starting to show its true colors.
Itâs as if her latent psychopathy is awakening, just beginning to seep into her actions and reactions.
Iâm certain that, sooner or later, she will become just like me.
Itâs only a matter of time. I have every intention of guiding her down that path, molding her into someone who mirrors my own traits and tendencies.
Because, ultimately...
Weâre bound by more than just our circumstances.
We share something darker and deeper, something that connects us in ways she has yet to fully understand.
And I will make sure she embraces that connection, fully and completely.
Skyler...
You and I...
We're...
---
Judge Georgia stood behind the bench, her gaze fixed on the convicted criminal before her.
The courtroom was silent as she prepared to deliver the sentence for Richard Moore, found guilty of raping and murdering his wife.
âRichard Moore,â she began, her voice firm and resolute,
âyou have been convicted of heinous crimes that defy all notions of justice and decency. Your actions have caused immeasurable suffering to your victimâs family and community.â
She continued, âGiven the severity of your crimes, this court sentences you to life imprisonment without the possibility of parole. You will spend the rest of your life behind bars, ensuring you can never harm anyone again.â
"Hindi nga ako ang pumatay sa asawa ko!! I told you already, I just raped her even though she's dead already." Sigaw naman ni Richard.
"Proud pa siya, sarap niya sapakin." Skyler murmured coldly, glaring at the criminal guy.
Looking at Azara, I smirked yet it disappears the moment I meet her eyes.
What's wrong?
Once the hearing was adjourned, I found myself walking towards the parking lot with Skyler and Azara.
"Una na ako, may movie night pa kami ni Elowen. See you tomorrow, dude" Skyler said her goodbyes.
She high-fived me and gave me a playful shoulder bump.
I watched as Skyler got into her car and drove off into the night, her taillights fading into the distance.
"Should we go home as wellâ" I began, turning to face Azara.
Before I could finish my sentence, she suddenly grabbed my shirt with a fierce grip and dragged me towards her car.
"Get on the backseat," she commanded, her voice firm and unyielding, before releasing me.
"Why?" I asked, confusion and curiosity lacing my tone.
"I said GET. ON. THE BACK SEAT." Her voice took on a growl, her eyes darkening as they locked onto mine with a steely intensity.
I complied silently, making my way to the backseat of her car, a sense of unease settling over me.
I watched her take the driver's seat and press a button that caused the windows to become heavily tinted, obscuring the view from outside.
I was about to ask her what was going on when, without warning, she moved and positioned herself directly in front of me.
She sat down on my lap, her weight pressing me firmly against the leather seat in the back.
In an unexpected and forceful move, she wrapped her fingers tightly around my neck, cutting off my air supply.
"L-loveâ" I managed to stammer, struggling to breathe as her grip tightened painfully around my throat.
"Did you just stare at someone else's body before you killed them? Huh? Is Larahâs body more appealing than mine?" Her voice was a harsh whisper, so low it barely resembled the usual tone she used.
I shook my head, trying desperately to open my eyes.
I reached for her waist, hoping to ease her grip, but she was too quick and grabbed both my hands, pinning them above my head.
Now, I was trapped beneath her, completely dominated.
"Speak, you little psycho! Did your dick twitch the moment you saw her naked body?" She leaned in close, her face mere inches from mine.
I saw tears glistening in her eyes, a stark contrast to her fierce demeanor.
Her possessiveness was amusing and overwhelming; whenever she felt jealous, she would automatically assume I was about to leave her.
"N-no," I stuttered, my voice barely audible as I struggled for breath and felt a ringing in my ears.
My vision was blurring, and I could barely keep my eyes open.
"As you should. Fuck, Seyren, you can kill her without needing to see her naked... And now youâve seen her body. Youâre fantasizing about her, arenât you?" She accused, her voice dripping with hurt and suspicion.
I shook my head vehemently, trying to deny her outrageous assumption.
"I-I could never look at s-someone else... I only l-love you," I managed to say, my voice trembling.
"Thatâs bullshit, pure bullshit. Fuck, Seyren, fuck!!" She bounced on my lap, and the pressure on my already aching manhood was intense.
I closed my eyes in discomfort, the pain sharp and unpleasant.
When she finally released my neck, I gasped for air and coughed heavily.
As I blinked my eyes open, I saw that she was crying, her tears streaming down her face.
She also let go of my hands, allowing me to wrap my arms around her waist.
She buried her face in her hands and began sobbing uncontrollably.
Unexpectedly, I felt a pang of pain.
I didnât understand why; I usually found some twisted pleasure in her pain, enjoying the way she revealed her vulnerability.
It was entertaining for me, knowing I was the only one she showed this side of her to.
But at that moment, I was genuinely hurt.
I felt guilty for causing her pain and, inexplicably, I hated myself for making her cry.
"I fucking hate you. Fuck you!" she repeatedly cursed at me, her voice laced with anguish.
"I'm sorry, love. I didnât mean to look at any other girl's body. I promise, I wasnât attracted to her. I didnât feel anything, not even arousal. Please, donât cry." If anyone else were in my position, they would probably find Azara's behavior unacceptable.
But me?
Oh, I loved every bit of her, especially her unpredictable, wild side.
"Iâm sorry... Iâm really sorry, sshhh, Iâm here." I pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her close and gently caressing her back.
"Iâm sorry I made you jealous. I didnât mean to, Iâm truly sorry." I continued whispering apologies as she cursed me, her anger palpable.
It took her a while to stop crying, and when she finally did, she tightened her grip on me once more.
"Youâre mine, Seyren. Youâre fucking mine, every bit of you. I own it all. Do you understand?" She growled again, and I felt like a fool, finding pleasure in her intense, possessive behavior.
I didnât know why I was reacting this way or why I was becoming so soft.
It was infuriating.
"Iâm all yours." As I gazed into her eyes, I slid my hand beneath her shirt and caressed her waist.
She rolled her eyes back and moaned softly, her breathy sounds filling the space between us.
I knew she was intentionally provoking me, but despite that, my manhood couldnât help but respond, growing increasingly hard.
I could sense that she felt it, her subtle grinning makes it more hard for me not to get aroused.
"Fuck, Seyren, Iâm going to fuck you so hard in this fucking Lamborghini," she muttered, getting off my lap and kneeling in front of me.
Without a word, she unbuckled my belt and, with a swift motion, pulled my pants down to my knees, leaving me exposed in just my boxer shorts.
"What are you going to do?" I asked teasingly as she grabbed my hardening cock through the thin fabric of my boxer shorts.
"Fucking dick, you're so hard. You want it out, donât you? Admit it, Seyren, you really want me to jerk off your dick, donât you? You fucking whore." She spoke boldly, sending waves of arousal through me.
My dick became even harder in response.
I threw my head back and bit my lips before nodding in agreement.
The sensation she was creating was so pleasurable that I wanted to remove my boxer shorts to relieve the pressure.
"Youâre a fucking pathetic psychopath, a real fucking pathetic." She suddenly slapped my manhood, and instead of feeling pain, it only intensified my arousal.
"Fuck, Azara, if youâre just teasing me, then stop. Iâm not going to fuck you just because youâre angry at meâ"
"Who said youâll fuck me? Iâm going to fucking wreck you until your dick sets a standard and doesnât twitch when you see someone elseâs body that isnât mine. Your dick belongs only to me, Seyren. Youâre mine!" She declared fiercely, then yanked down my boxer shorts and briefs.
My dick sprang free, the tip even brushing against my belly button.
"Fuck, youâre so big, so fucking big" she kept on cursing, now staring and grinning seeing my big cock with the tip of it having pre-cum.
Her hand wrapped around it, almost making me buckle up my hips.
"You like it, don't you? You like it when I jerk you off like this-" she started to say, but was interrupted by a sudden knock on our car window.
We both looked at each other in shock, then peered through the passenger seat to see a man looking in at us.
"Abala ampota," Azara and I muttered in unison.
When we exchanged glances, she shot me a look of disapproval.
"Hide it. Iâm the only one who should see it, understand?" I smiled and nodded.
She moved away from me and sat in the passenger seat. Despite the persistent ache of my hard-on, I managed to cover it with my briefs, boxer shorts, and pants.
The bulge was still visible, a clear indication of my arousal.
Yes, she was always like this, and I was already accustomed to her behavior.
There are worse scenarios that happened before, but Iâd leave it to her to narrate. I enjoyed hearing our story from her perspective.
She made me feel fucking insanely sane.
---
Skyler's POV
I lied.
I didn't come home early.
I went to the crime scene where the homeless man was found.
I know I'm not allowed since Detective Seyren isn't the one holding the case, but fuck it. I love breaking the rules, that's the reason why I almost got fired anyway.
When I went to the tunnel, or what we might call the underside of the bridge, I parked my car near the highway and walked down to the bridge.
The ground was still somewhat muddy because of the heavy rains from the past few days.
Each step was a squelch, reminding me of the oppressive weather that had washed away any potential clues. But I wasnât deterred.
As I arrived at the scene, the air was thick with the smell of damp earth and decay.
I immediately saw the part of the tunnel where the outline of the victim was sketched on the wall.
The crude drawing marked the place where someone had found the body, a grim reminder of the violence that had occurred.
My eyes scanned the area, searching for anything that might stand out as evidence or a sign pointing to the killer.
The dim light filtering through the tunnel's entrance cast long shadows, making it a challenge to distinguish shapes and details.
I refused to believe that the homeless people were the ones who killed her.
It didnât add up. The precision and brutality suggested something more sinister.
Moving beyond the drawing, I surveyed the surrounding area.
I walked south, carefully avoiding the deeper puddles, then headed north.
When I reached the west side, I noticed something unusual.
The grass on this side wasnât standing upright. It seemed like something or someone had flattened it recently.
A little further along, I spotted a shoe. It was dirty and scuffed, but the brand was unmistakably expensive.
I crouched down to examine it more closely. The image of the victim flashed before my eyes.
I remembered that she had been wearing only one shoe when she was found.
I continued to survey the area, my senses on high alert.
As I moved, I noticed what looked like footprints.
They were larger than my 24cm feet, probably around 27 centimeters.
The prints were deep, indicating the person was heavy or carrying something weighty.
I followed these footprints, noticing they varied in size, indicating multiple people might have been involved.
After a few meters, I found imprints of two hands in the mud and another mark that looked like something had been dragged, possibly a wheel.
These marks werenât washed away, which could only mean one thing: the victim was killed on a rainy night.
The rain would have obliterated any traces if it had happened before the downpour.
If it had occurred after, the ground wouldnât show such clear marks.
Using my imagination, I transported myself to that fateful night, trying to reconstruct the events.
I imagined the killerâs steps, the victimâs desperate attempts to escape.
If the shoe was found several meters away from these traces, the victim might have lost it while running, perhaps in a futile attempt to flee.
---
Seyren's POV
In the midst of heavy rain, accompanied by thunder and lightning, I felt a surge of adrenaline as I delivered a powerful punch to the man's face.
He fell into the mud with a heavy thud. As I smiled, a bright flash of lightning illuminated the entire area for a few seconds, casting an eerie light on the scene.
âPlease give me mercy, I could give you anything you want. Even money, just please donât kill me,â he pleaded, his voice trembling.
I stepped on his chest, preventing him from getting up. His cries were music to my ears, fueling my twisted sense of satisfaction.
âAww, but thatâs the reason why youâre my prey tonight. You gain money without doing anything. You are a fucking liar and you worship money. Thatâs unacceptable, old man... But fine, Iâll give you a chance to escape.â I stepped back slightly and pulled out the chain from my bag, its cold links glinting ominously.
I glared at him through the slits of my mask. He could only see my eyes, and even if I smiled, he wouldnât recognize me.
âRun,â I growled.
âFucking run for your life. If I catch you, Iâm gonna fucking kill you.â Without hesitation, he stumbled to his feet and ran, leaving one of his shoes behind.
I grinned, watching his slow, unsteady pace.
He was already weak from the beating I had given him.
As he ran towards the underside of the bridge, I followed at a leisurely pace, savoring the hunt.
I bit my lower lip and snickered whenever he lost his balance.
When he finally stumbled and fell, he tried to get up again but couldnât.
As I approached him, I sat on his back and wrapped the chain around his neck.
He struggled to loosen it, but I tightened it further.
He couldnât fight back, and in the end, his struggle ceased.
As he fell onto the muddy ground, I carefully wrapped the chain around his neck and dragged him under the bridge, placing him against the wall in a dark spot.
âI hate sinners... But I hate liars more,â I whispered to him, pulling out a pen to draw a Satanism symbol on his forehead.
I also took out a Japan flag sticker, burned it halfway, and put it inside his mouth.
Taking his ID, I examined it for a few seconds.
âInteresting name,â I murmured before leaving the body and walking several meters away to stick the ID card into the mud.
---
Skyler's POV
I continued to wander around the tunnel after imagining the scenario.
Sometimes, I wasnât afraid of my psychopathic tendencies; I used them to understand things like this.
As I walked a few more meters, I suddenly stepped on something, and it felt like I had broken a branch.
When I raised my hand, I saw an identification card, split in half, with one half buried in the ground. I picked it up and read the name.
âAkihiro Miranda.â The name on the ID card read.
When I picked up the other half, the world seemed to stop at the sight of the picture.
The homeless victim?
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