Perfect Sin

That night, the sky hung low and heavy, as though the heavens themselves were aware of the sin that stained the earth. Darkness didn't just fall—it crawled across the city like a living thing, seeping into the corners where secrets festered and monsters whispered in the quiet.

Jaceon stood at the edge of a long-abandoned chapel, whispering into the shadows. Jarvis was with him, crouched atop a broken stone statue with a wicked grin on her lips, eyes glowing faintly red. Her wings were folded behind her, slick and leathery, giving her the appearance of a seductress bathed in sin. Jaceon, however, looked nothing like her. There was something more human in him. Something still fighting.

"Next prey?" he asked her softly.

"Hmm," she hummed, running a claw down the old stone. "There's a politician in the south. But we can take him after dinner. Enjoy your night with your boyfriend."

Just then, the ground cracked in front of them and a pulse of dark energy lit the space.

A figure stepped from the smoke—a messenger of hell. His eyes were hollow pits, his skin stretched tight over his skeletal face, draped in a cloak of screaming shadows.

"The devil sends word," the creature rasped.

Jaceon straightened. His heart sank even before the words reached him.

"Leon McLaren is marked for death. He is a sinner. He has sold innocent children into slavery and drugs. Nineteen souls cry for vengeance. You must make it twenty. The devil demands it."

Jaceon's breath hitched. "Why him? Why now?"

Jarvis smiled darkly. "Because karma never sleeps, darling. Not even for daddies."

Jaceon shook his head, trying to absorb it. Mr. Leon McLaren. Levi's father. The man who had cried in his office only hours ago, who had begged his son for forgiveness, who had invited them for dinner to make things right.

A murderer?

He had done unforgivable things. But he had also tried to atone. Did that not count for something?

"You seem shaken," Jarvis teased, leaping down beside him. "You shouldn't be. We're demons, remember? We don't do mercy."

Jaceon nodded to the messenger, reluctantly. His voice came out cracked, distant. "Okay."

By the time Jaceon arrived at Leon's mansion, he felt hollow. The grandeur of the place mocked him. Every chandelier that sparkled, every gold-framed photo on the wall, whispered of privilege built on bones. Yet his heart twisted painfully when he saw the joy in Levi's eyes.

Levi had come early, dressed in something relaxed yet charming, the way only he could be without trying. He sat at the edge of a plush sofa in the drawing room, laughing with his father like a boy again, as though years of pain had vanished.

Jaceon stood quietly at the entrance, watching the moment.

He saw Levi lean against his father, showing him something on his phone. Mr. Leon smiled in a way only a father could.

Jaceon looked away. You will really hate me if you find out what I'm about to do.

Levi looked up and saw him. His face lit up. "Jace! Come in. I was just telling Dad how you saved me from falling flat on my face during the fashion show disaster."

Jaceon smiled weakly. "I remember. You were really nervous that day ."

"Blame the designer," Levi grinned.

Dinner was served soon after. A round table set elegantly with steaming dishes, wine glasses filled to perfection, and candles that flickered as if swayed by ghosts.

"Dad," Levi said, lifting his glass, "I want to officially introduce you to Jaceon. Not just my secretary anymore... he's my partner."

The room froze.

Leon McLaren set his glass down carefully.

"Partner? You mean—"

"Boyfriend."

The old man stiffened. "Levi, no. That's not—that's not who we are. What will people say? What about our name? Our legacy?"

Levi stayed calm, even as his knuckles whitened around his fork. "If we want children, we can adopt. Love is love, and I'm not trading mine for a fake legacy."

Jaceon swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at him. The man they were eating with... was condemned. But in this moment, he looked like any other father, worried, stubborn, and too proud.

"You don't understand," Leon said. "You're throwing away generations—"

"No," Levi cut in, gently. "I'm building a future of my own."

Silence settled over them, thick as smoke.

Then, Leon exhaled, shaking his head. "Fine. If this makes you happy... then I will learn to live with it."

Levi reached for Jaceon's hand under the table and squeezed.

A flicker of warmth. Jaceon smiled.

"So," Leon said awkwardly, "Jaceon. What do you hate the most?"

The question snapped Jaceon back. For a moment, he almost said killing. Instead, his mouth moved on instinct.

"Praying."

Levi burst out laughing. "I told you! He hates prayer time."

Jaceon chuckled softly, the sound brittle but real. For a moment, he let himself enjoy it.

"Let's skip that part," Levi said, still laughing. "Let's just eat."

And so they did.

The food was delicious. The air warm with conversation. But every bite Jaceon took was heavy.

Because this would be Leon McLaren's last supper.

And when the plates were cleared and goodnights exchanged, Jaceon remained behind in the garden, staring at the moon like it held the answer to his pain.

Jarvis appeared beside him, silent and smiling.

"It's time," she whispered.

Jaceon didn't move.

Levi's laugh still echoed in his ears. His hand still lingered in Jaceon's palm.

But duty was duty. And demons do not disobey.

Tonight, love would be tested. And the boy who never wanted to become a monster—would have to become one.

Even if it meant breaking the heart he fought so hard to protect.