Chapter 8: The Killer in Night Allure

I went to the bar with Malachi. Sitting by the counter, I watched him on the high stage, singing with such sultry grace that I began to wonder if everything that had happened before was just a nightmare.

Malachi’s husky, haunting voice echoed softly through the smoke-filled bar. He sounded somewhat indifferent, yet it was intoxicating.

I ordered a glass of "Burning Fire," mixed by Malachi himself, and sipped it slowly. The sensation of the liquid sliding down my throat and deep into my chest felt like a raw, searing pain. But only through this could I be certain that my current self was, in fact, slightly different from being dead...

How wonderful it would be if everything that had happened recently was just a bad dream. If I could wake up, walk in the sunshine again, work in that candy-scented shop, and wait for Gareth to come home to our house.

The burning pain gradually faded, leaving a slight bitterness in my heart.

Amidst the singing, several waiters at Night Allure held their trays and watched me curiously from a distance, as if observing a gorilla in a zoo.

"Who is that girl? She looks like a minor."

"I don't know. Master Malachi brought her here himself."

"What? She couldn't be Master Malachi’s lover, could she!" One of them let out a soft cry of distress.

"Heavens, don't talk nonsense! Master Malachi wouldn't be so depraved as to like women! Especially... such a scrawny, underage-looking girl!" The head waiter, who had blocked Alastor and me that first night, spoke up indignantly.

My hearing was exceptionally sharp now. I took another sip of "Burning Fire" and unconsciously turned the silver ring on my left forefinger. It was a simple band, a pure, brilliant silver-white that didn't draw much attention. On the outside of the ring, a shallow letter was engraved: W.

After giving it a tug, I let my hand drop, certain once again that I couldn't pull it off.

Crash!

The sound of shattering was sharp and sudden, piercing enough to make one’s eardrums ache.

The singing stopped abruptly.

All at once, every lightbulb in the bar exploded, and the room was plunged into total darkness.

What was happening now?!

I stood up almost instinctively. A flying shard grazed my cheek, leaving a thin trail of blood...

Malachi remained seated in the shadows, unmoving.

"Ah! Murder!"

"Master Malachi! Master Malachi..."

"Help..."

The bar descended into chaos instantly. Screams and cries for help rang out without pause. The space that had been full of luxury just a moment ago was suddenly a wreck.

"...Try to be innocent, try to have a soul... These fallen lovers beneath the moonlight... Father in Heaven, look with pity upon this life..." A strange song rose slowly, instantly drowning out all the sounds of terror.

It felt as though only that clear voice remained in the entire bar.

On the high stage, Malachi sat quietly at a piano, playing an unknown melody. In the darkness, his narrow eyes were slightly closed as he softly sang a bizarre song, as if everything around him had nothing to do with him.

The music was at times winding and at times sorrowful; in just a few minutes, it felt as though one had experienced ages of change.

My vision grew even sharper in the dark. I noticed a man with silver hair and white clothes standing at the bar's entrance.

His presence was so powerful it was impossible to ignore.

Beneath the moonlight, his white attire was peculiar—long, wide-sleeved robes reminiscent of ancient times, with a piece of transparent cold jade hanging from his waist. His long silver hair tossed gently in the wind, and his pitch-black pupils were as cold as ice that hadn't melted for a thousand years.

Unlike Malachi and Alastor, he had a distinctly Eastern face. If it weren't for his silver hair and the fact that he appeared in this eerie night, I might have thought he was a handsome man who had stepped out of an ancient scroll.

In his arms, the silver-haired man held a small girl about ten years old. She was pale, thin, and beautiful, with eyes the color of glass. She stayed quietly in his embrace, looking utterly endearing.

It was truly a strange pair.

The music didn't stop, and the song didn't end.

Malachi continued to sing, his slender hands gliding over the black and white keys like flowing water.

The silver-haired man’s cold eyes drifted toward Malachi.

With a loud thud, the piano was suddenly lifted as if by a giant invisible hand and slammed back down. In an instant, the expensive instrument was reduced to a pile of broken parts on the floor.

The music finally died.

"You walk out from the ages, eyes stained with dust... Listen to the voice of angels... The first love, lost in the sea of people..." Without accompaniment, the singing became even clearer. After finishing the last line, Malachi finally stood up slowly.

"Inquisitor, it’s been a long time." Malachi smiled and offered a soft greeting. His wine-red hair tossed in the night breeze, looking as charming as a rose.

The greeting sounded like two old friends happening upon each other in the street.

"I have searched for you for four hundred years. I didn't expect you to be here so brazenly," the man said as he walked slowly through the door, his voice as cold as ice.

"I am waiting for someone here," Malachi said, brushing his long hair back with effortless allure. He lowered his long lashes, masking the emotions shifting in his beautiful eyes. "If he doesn't come, I won't leave."

"Waiting for four hundred years?" There wasn't a trace of emotion in the Inquisitor's eyes.

"Yes. And I will keep waiting."

"Will you still have a life to wait with?" the Inquisitor asked softly, his face expressionless.

My throat twitched slightly. Only then did I realize the air was completely saturated with the metallic sweetness of blood. The surroundings were terrifyingly quiet; the humans who had been reveling in the bar just a moment ago had all died silently in an instant.

With a look of growing fear, I took a step back and looked at the white-clad Inquisitor.

So many corpses... it was like a scene from hell. This was the first time I had seen such a thing. Who exactly was this Inquisitor?

I accidentally stepped on a glass shard, creating a sharp crunch. I froze and looked up, meeting those cold, black eyes.