**Chapter 29: The Demon Hunter and the Thief**
Eastern Time, 4:07 AM.
South of South Street in the Free City, in an old apartment building.
“Mr. Jackson, your child is, uh, in this room, right?”
“Are you really sure? That’s a demon…” The plump middle-aged man known as Mr. Jackson eyed the girl before him, unsure.
Standing next to him was a tall girl, seemingly around eighteen or nineteen, dressed in a dark green cropped jacket, a belly-baring tight top, denim shorts, and black high-top combat boots. Her outfit reminded one of Matilda from “Léon: The Professional.”
However, Matilda was just a neighbor girl; she wouldn’t wear torn fishnet stockings under her denim shorts like this Miss Vivienne Chapelier, nor would she sport a chaotic cluster of accessories around her neck, let alone be drunkenly disheveled.
This made her seem less like a demon hunter or a neighborhood girl, and more like a stripper.
Indeed, she might have just finished a shift at [Angel Rose] and came straight to me. “Vivienne” might not even be her real name; she chose a name from Celtic mythology simply because she had a head of classic Celtic red hair… Mr. Jackson thought.
“Ugh…” Vivienne indiscriminately belched, attempting to suppress the food that threatened to rise up from her stomach. She grabbed a paper-wrapped bottle of alcohol and took a big swig, waiting until her throat and belly were quiet. Then she lit up a cigarette.
With the cigarette in her mouth, she squinted her drunken eyes towards the man beside her. “You’ve got to give it a try, right, Mr. Jackson? As far as I know, before finding me, you’ve hired many demon hunters, priests, and even Indian shamans, but none could drive the demon from your wife…”
“Since you’ve tried all methods and finally found me, you should trust this drunkard.”
Hearing this, Mr. Jackson hesitated for a few seconds, nodded, and said in a low voice, pretending to be fierce, “Alright, give it a shot! If you can’t do it, I won’t give you a dime!”
“Of course!” Vivienne shrugged. “I’m not like those priests from the Holy Order; if I don’t finish the job, I won’t shamelessly ask the employer for payment… Here, hold this for me; I’m about to get to work!”
As she spoke, she thrust the bottle into Mr. Jackson’s arms, turned around, and staggered towards the bedroom door on the other side of the living room, rummaging through the jumble of trinkets around her neck and mumbling indistinct words.
“Ugh… Which one should I use this time? Buddha… Cross… Huh, what is this? d*mn! How come there’s a toe in here?”
Mr. Jackson, “…” Can this person really do it?
Watching Vivienne attempt to find the exorcism tools from the mess of poor-quality pendants on her chest, the little trust he had just established in her wavered again. He even worried if Vivienne might vomit on his wife while trying to drive out the demon.
After picking out an iron cross from the pendants, Vivienne quickly gripped it tightly in her hand.
She didn’t want her employer to see that the person nailed to the cross was not the legendary saint, but a creature with bulging round eyes, which judging by various features, was suspected to be from the M78 nebula.
Swaying towards the bedroom door, her gaze swept over all the furniture in the room.
The apartment was already somewhat dilapidated, and with all the windows covered, the stingy Mr. Jackson had only turned on a dim nightlight, casting a yellowish glow that sliced the room into different blocks of shadow and light, creating a distorted and oppressive feeling.
In the living room, all the furniture cast shadows of dark gray, the silhouettes projected onto the yellowing white walls, resembling a group of silent spectators that seemed poised to move at any moment.
As she drew closer to the bedroom door, the already weak light suddenly seemed to be swallowed by something, growing dimmer. The wooden door, covered with tiny cracks and adorned with talismans and various exorcism tools, emanated an ominous aura.
Even through the door, one could clearly hear the heavy breathing and the sharp sounds, as if claws were scratching the door panel, making one wonder if a terrifying beast was locked behind it.
Mr. Jackson tiptoed behind Vivienne, stopping one or two meters away from the bedroom door. He didn’t dare to advance further, standing beside the sofa, intentionally using it to shield himself, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
He knew how terrifying his poor wife, possessed by a demon, could be in the dead of night. The last priest who tried to exorcise her ended up with three broken ribs and two of his fingers snapped.
Even so, that only confined his wife to the bedroom; it didn’t banish the demon.
Since then, no one was willing to help him again. If it weren’t for this, he wouldn’t have gone through so much trouble to find Vivienne online.
From one perspective, it was like suffering from a strange illness that hospitals could not cure, and after being turned away by many, he ultimately placed his last hope in the potions made by those Indian shamans using toads, insects, and bizarre plants.
In contrast to Mr. Jackson’s anxiousness, Vivienne remained unusually calm; perhaps the alcohol had dulled her nerves.
She approached the bedroom door, leisurely finished her cigarette, then with one hand gripping the cross from the M78 nebula and the other gently pressing on the wooden door, she closed her eyes and began to chant.
“Hmm… Is this it? I can sense it; I have sensed the true form of that guy, and it really is a terrifying demon!”
With that, she turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.
“Ah—!”
In that instant, a sharp piercing sound filled the air, as if countless women were screaming simultaneously.
A swarm of black moths burst forth from the room like a cloud, and hordes of cockroaches scurried across the floor.
No one went to touch the bedroom light switch, yet the lights began to flicker at high frequency, alternately brightening and dimming.
A woman in a white sleep dress, with disheveled long hair, lay on the bed. If not for her overly pale skin and the corpse-like patterns on her cheeks, she might have actually been quite beautiful.
Her hands and feet were bound with ropes as thick as fingers, and she struggled violently, mumbling filthy and unpleasant words.
Seeing Vivienne standing motionless in front of the bedroom door, Mr. Jackson anxiously called out, “Viv, Miss Vivienne? Are you, are you okay? If it’s too much to handle, just let it go?”
He already felt Vivienne was unreliable, and now seeing her frozen in shock, he suddenly became worried that Vivienne might be killed by his wife.
Vivienne stood still, eyes tightly closed, one hand rubbing her throbbing forehead that glowed with a crimson light until she heard Mr. Jackson’s call, at which point she snapped back to reality and turned to him, grinning, “Don’t worry, this level of demon is a piece of cake for me.”
With that, her gaze drifted past Mr. Jackson to the window.
Outside that window, less than three kilometers away, lay the sea…
Someone had disturbed what she kept hidden in the sea, and she sensed it, so she needed to wrap up this job quickly to see which damned thief was causing trouble.
Retracting her gaze, she said to Mr. Jackson, “Give me two minutes…”
With that, she stepped into the bedroom and casually shut the door behind her.
Immediately afterward, her loud shouts mixed with sounds of banging echoed from behind the door.
“Shut up, you filthy b*tch! It’s exorcism time; be quiet!”
“Ugh, ugh, ugh… Don’t do anything weird!”
“b*tch, don’t make me vomit on you.”
Mr. Jackson, “…”
He suddenly began to worry about his wife’s safety, even doubting if Vivienne would pull out a g*n and sh**t his wife at any moment.
“Horace, the demon that tells of the beginning… I hereby, in the name of the Holy Spirit, Holy Son, and Holy Father, cast you out; go back to hell!”
With the final shout, all the chaotic sounds fell silent. Following the soft creaking of the door hinges, Vivienne stumbled out from the pitch-black bedroom, approached Mr. Jackson, reclaimed her bottle, and rubbed her fingers together.
“Payment, please! As promised, two hundred bucks flat.”
Mr. Jackson stared blankly at Vivienne, then peeked into the dark bedroom to confirm that the woman on the bed was sound asleep. After rummaging through the room for a bit, he reluctantly pulled out a few crumpled bills and handed them to Vivienne.
“Uh, you’re fifteen bucks short. I’ll get it to you soon.”
Taking the money, Vivienne rolled her eyes in annoyance at him and headed straight for the fridge, grabbed a dozen beers, waved her hand, and walked to the door.
“You don’t need to pay the rest; just consider these drinks as a trade.”
“Bang!” The door slammed shut.
After watching Vivienne leave, Mr. Jackson hurried into the bedroom and pulled the somewhat heavier middle-aged woman into a tight embrace, crying.
————
Moments later, south of South Street in the Free City.
The empty late-night street was devoid of people, with only faint sounds coming from the tents set up under the overpasses on either side, where the homeless gathered.
Soon after, footsteps echoed, as the girl in the dark green jacket, with a sultry figure, walked down the street from afar. Suddenly, a series of small sounds emerged from the shadows, and several pairs of malicious eyes quickly fixed on her figure, but hesitated after observing her odd behavior.
She was talking to a cat.
A cat the size of a large pet, with a leopard-like pattern!
As the night grew longer, the number of urban legends increased; unwritten rules gradually formed among the homeless of Free City—do not provoke those who act strangely.
Thus, the originally prepared “hunters” of the homeless quickly abandoned their illicit plans and retreated to the shadows.
“Horace, can you not change other people’s appearances when you possess them next time?” Vivienne scolded the big cat on her shoulder. “When you came out of that lady just now, seeing her original look, I almost thought there was another demon inside her…”
Honestly, upon seeing the “demon-type” beauty suddenly gain close to a hundred pounds, with all kinds of rashes and spots surfacing on her smooth skin, she was genuinely freaked out. She even wondered why Mr. Jackson was so anxious to exorcise his wife.
Why not enjoy the benefits of a ten-level beautification effect as long as the wife is possessed by a demon?
“You still dare to lecture me!” The big cat retorted, “Why did you use the Holy Order’s exorcism process just now? What if those guys sensed my presence?”
“Don’t worry!” Vivienne raised the cross around her neck at the big cat. “With this thing, even if they called upon the Holy Spirit, Holy Son, and Holy Father, the only ones capable of sensing it would likely be Ultra Father, Taro, and Taiga. It’d be strange if those guys could sense it.”
“Uh…” The big cat glanced at the cross in Vivienne’s hand, showing a look of disdain. “Where did you find this kind of thing?”
“This? I made it myself; doesn’t it look pretty good? Hehe!” Vivienne grinned.
“…” The big cat fell silent for two seconds, then changed the topic, looking ahead. “Alright, so where are we headed now? Looking for the next target?”
“To the seaside!” Vivienne replied. “Remember the Killer Whale I told you about?”
“The broken ship where you hid your powers?” The big cat tilted its head. “Isn’t that ship under the control of the mafia now? Did something happen?”
“Someone dismantled the ship…” Vivienne pouted and sighed. “Sigh! It’s really worrying! I just want to be an ordinary human; why is it so difficult?”
“You? An ordinary human?” The big cat rolled its eyes at Vivienne. “I’ve never seen an ordinary human cooperate with demons and swindle everywhere.”
The pair, one human and one cat, exchanged banter, and before they knew it, the beach was already in sight.
“In any case, that’s what happened…” Vivienne ignored the big cat’s questioning and climbed over the fence, jumped down from the several-meter-high seawall, landing steadily on the beach. She gazed out at the slightly turbulent sea, her eyes landing on a white point quickly approaching two or three nautical miles away.
“Look, the Killer Whale is coming.”
“Where?” the big cat asked, showing a thoughtful expression. “I don’t see it.”
“It’s right there!” Vivienne pointed. “See that white spot on the ship?”
“I see it, uh, if you’re sure that’s a ship…” The big cat twitched its whiskers.
Just because a pile of steel and wood is shoved together floating in the sea doesn’t mean it can be called a ship, right?
“And on top of that, it seems like there’s a person hanging from it?”
Vivienne, “???”
What the hell? The ship that disrupted her hidden powers dares to show up? Isn’t that a bit too audacious?
The thief had turned into an armed robber?
