The next morning.
The sun shone softly through Levi's apartment window, painting golden streaks across the floor. He stood in the kitchen, humming lightly as he made tea, still thinking about how warm Jaceon had been the night before—even though he'd seemed oddly distant when they returned home. Levi had brushed it off, thinking it was just stress. Maybe work stuff.
He turned on the TV as he sipped his tea, flipping through channels—until he froze.
"BREAKING NEWS," the anchorwoman said, her voice calm but cold. "A man was found dead in a brutal state near the outskirts of the city early this morning. Police sources identify him as Leon McLaren, former CEO and father of Levi McLaren, known businessman and philanthropist."
Levi's cup slipped from his hand. It shattered against the tile. His heart dropped.
The screen flashed to disturbing footage: a blurred image of his father's body laid in a dark alley. Burn marks were etched into his skin. His eyes were wide open. His expression—frozen in raw terror. His robe was torn, as though he'd been through war. The news anchor spoke again.
"Authorities are calling this a possible gang retaliation, but the condition of the body has experts baffled. Police say it looks like he was tortured with methods they haven't seen in decades."
Levi stood trembling, his hands pressed to his lips. "No… no, no…"
He felt a rush of tears and confusion. He had just eaten dinner with his father. They had laughed, they had talked about adopting. They were finally… healing.
Now he was gone?
Tortured?
Killed?
Why?
Levi collapsed to his knees.
Jaceon, who had stepped out for a moment, returned to find the shattered cup, the TV still playing the report, and Levi shaking on the floor.
"Levi…" he said gently.
Levi didn't look at him. "Did you see the news?" His voice cracked.
Jaceon swallowed hard. "I… I did."
"He's dead, Jaceon!" Levi suddenly shouted, spinning around with wet eyes. "My father is dead! He was tortured! What kind of monster would do that?!"
Jaceon felt every word like a dagger to the chest.
"Levi—"
"No! No—don't 'Levi' me. What if it was someone after me? What if it was because of you? Because you're a demon?"
Jaceon flinched, but Levi's anger wasn't really aimed at him. It was grief. Confusion. Shock.
"I-I can't believe this… I just forgave him. I just got him back and now he's—" He broke into sobs.
Jaceon dropped to his knees beside him and held him close, burying Levi's face in his chest. He wanted to cry too—but demons didn't get to.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Levi clung to him tightly, shaking. "Who ever did it should be ready for me."
Silence.
Jaceon held him tighter. But he said nothing.
Because any word… would be a lie.
Later that evening, Levi sat on the edge of his bed, numb. His father's death played over and over in his head. The TV kept reporting gruesome details, but Levi had muted it long ago. He just stared at the screen, jaw tight, fists clenched, eyes red from hours of crying and no sleep.
Jaceon stood by the window, his silhouette drenched in the orange glow of the setting sun. He hadn't said a word in hours. He was afraid of what Levi might ask.
And then it came.
"Jaceon…" Levi's voice was soft, tired. "I want you to help me find who did this to my father."
Jaceon turned slowly, his heart immediately sinking. Levi was looking at him—truly looking at him—with so much pain in his eyes. Not anger. Not hatred. Just sorrow. Grief. And a desperate need for answers.
"I know you have power. I know you know people. Demons, monsters, whatever…" Levi stood, approaching him. "Please. You can do something, right? You can find the one who tortured him."
Jaceon swallowed the lump in his throat. His chest ached. He looked away. "I… I can't."
Levi paused. "What do you mean you can't?"
"It's not my business," Jaceon said, his voice low and cold. "Demons don't get involved in each other's work."
Levi frowned, confused. "Each other's? Wait—so it was a demon?"
"I didn't say that," Jaceon said quickly. "I said demons don't interfere. If another one did it, then… I'm not allowed to track or challenge them."
"But he was my father," Levi snapped. "How is that not your business?"
"Because we're not human, Levi," Jaceon snapped back before softening his tone. "There are rules I can't break. You think I don't want to help you? You think I don't want to tear the one who did it apart? But if I do, it could cost me my life too. Or worse… yours."
Levi stared at him, shocked. "You're lying," he whispered. "You just don't want to help."
Jaceon closed his eyes, trying not to break. "Please don't ask me again," he whispered, barely holding back the guilt threatening to consume him. "Please."
Levi stared at him for a long moment, hurt all over his face. Then he took a step back. "Fine," he said. "If you can't help… then I'll do it myself."
Jaceon turned, watching him walk away into the bedroom, the door shutting with a quiet but painful finality.
The guilt clung to Jaceon like a second skin. He whispered to himself, "I'm sorry, Levi. I did this to protect you… and now I'm losing you because of it."
Outside, the wind howled softly… almost as if the demons were laughing.