Ethan slammed his palm against the table, the impact rattling the cheap bottles and half-filled glasses around him. His voice rose above the noise of the bar, loud, slurred, and desperate.

"I’m telling you... one day... one day I’m going to be a respectable politician!"

He pointed at no one in particular, his thick finger swaying as much as his body. His face was bloated from drink, his receding hairline glistening under the dim lights, while patches of gray bled into his unkempt black beard, giving him a worn, almost pitiful look. The beard itself was uneven, tattered, like it had long been abandoned by care.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then the laughter came.

It rolled through the room in waves, sharp and cutting. Some patrons shook their heads, others leaned back in their seats, openly entertained. A few did not even bother hiding their contempt.

Ethan’s jaw tightened as his eyes darted around, searching for even a single face that believed him.

There was none.

Two members of the bar staff approached, their expressions already exhausted by familiarity.

"Alright, that’s enough," one of them said firmly. "You’ve had too much. Time to go."

Ethan scoffed and waved them off with a sloppy motion.

"I’m not done," he snapped. "You don’t get to tell me when I’m done."

"You’re done. You’ve been here all night," the other replied flatly.

Ethan leaned forward, both palms pressing against the table as he struggled to steady himself.

"One more bottle," he insisted, his voice dropping but edged with desperation. "Give me one more bottle and I’ll leave."

The two exchanged a glance and gave a small nod.

It was easier this way.

Moments later, a bottle was placed on the table before him.

Ethan grabbed it instantly and forced himself upright. His chair scraped harshly against the floor as he staggered to his feet, nearly losing balance before catching himself.

The laughter followed him out.

Low murmurs, snickers, words he chose not to hear.

By the time he stumbled out of the bar, the cool night air struck him like a slap. He barely managed a few unsteady steps before his body lurched violently.

He bent forward and retched.

The contents of his stomach spilled onto the pavement in a messy stream, his body convulsing as wave after wave forced its way out. His grip on the bottle loosened as he struggled through it.

When it finally passed, he remained hunched over, breathing hard, strands of saliva hanging from his lips. Slowly, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and began to rise.

Then he heard it.

A soft, feminine whisper.

Familiar.

His body stiffened.

Slowly, his head turned to the left.

Ethan’s eyes widened.

Standing just a few steps away... was Elena. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

She wore a white gown, but it was drenched, soaked through with spreading patches of dark blood. The fabric clung unnaturally to her body, her hair hanging limp around her face. Her eyes were hollow, fixed directly on him.

Ethan’s breath caught.

Without thinking, he screamed.

The bottle slipped from his hand, crashing against the ground and shattering into fragments as he turned and ran.

He bolted blindly, his legs moving faster than his balance could handle. He stumbled as he rushed into his apartment complex, his shoulder slamming into the entrance as he forced his way inside.

He nearly tripped as he reached the stairs.

Up.

Up.

Up.

His heart pounded violently in his chest, his breath ragged and uneven as he reached his floor.

His hands shook uncontrollably as he fumbled with his keys, struggling to guide it into the lock.

"Come on... come on..."

The key turned.

He threw the door open, stumbled inside, and slammed it shut behind him, locking it immediately.

The sound echoed through the small apartment.

Ethan staggered backward until his back pressed against the door, his entire body trembling. Sweat soaked through his clothes, mixing with the sour stench of vomit that clung to him.

His chest heaved as his wide eyes remained fixed on the door.

Nothing.

There was nothing.

Yet he did not move.

He stayed pinned there, staring, his mind racing, clawing for reason.

Was it his mind playing tricks?

Had he drunk himself into madness?

After several long seconds, he tore himself away and stumbled toward the bathroom. He reached the sink, turned on the tap, and splashed water over his face, his breathing still uneven.

"I’ll quit drinking... I’ll quit drinking for sure," Ethan gasped.

"But that won’t bring me back to life."

Buzz!

Elena’s reflection appeared in the mirror.

Ethan moved instantly, whipping around, but his legs gave out beneath him. He collapsed hard onto the floor, his body crashing into the sink with a loud bang that shattered it.

Fragments scattered. Pain shot through his arm as a jagged edge tore into his flesh.

But there was no one behind him.

"I DIDN’T KILL YOU! I DIDN’T KILL YOU, I SWEAR!" he screamed, curling into himself as he shivered violently.

From the corner of the room, Damian watched.

He stood still, surrounded by faint purple flames that rendered him invisible to human sight, his expression calm, almost detached, as he observed the man unravel.

Ethan lay there bleeding, a deep gash carved into his arm from the broken sink, his body trembling uncontrollably.

Damian’s gaze lingered, considering whether to push further.

[This should be enough for now. You have three weeks. Take your time and shape the outcome properly.] Rin’s voice echoed, aligned with his thoughts.

Damian remained silent.

Pushing Ethan too far now would only break him completely and a broken man could choose death.

No.

This needed to be done carefully. Pressure, applied slowly and carefully over time just as he had done with Mama Breezy.

’Fine. It means we have more time to hunt demons and angels tonight.’ Damian shrugged lightly as he turned and began walking out of the room.

[Why do you wish to hunt demons?] Rin asked, a hint of curiosity threading through his voice.

’Isn’t it obvious? I’m trying to reduce my reliance on my wives for proper experience points. Right now, I believe complete independence is what I need,’ Damian replied without hesitation.

Ever since his clash with Duke Haborym and the overwhelming rewards that followed, a thought had taken root in his mind. If that single encounter could yield such gains, then perhaps hunting demons and angels was not just an option, but a far more efficient path to growth.

And if that was true, then there was no reason for him to remain dependent on anyone.