The Heavenly Demon of Terror

I sat at my desk, writing my daily report for the chief, the tip of my pen gliding smoothly across the paper.

The office was silent, save for the ticking of the wall clock and the faint hum of the city outside.

Then, the door creaked open.

I didn't need to look up to know who it was.

The stench of arrogance entered before he did.

"Yo, Abigail's lapdog, it's been a while."

Joshua's voice oozed mockery, his usual smug grin plastered on his overly pampered face.

He sauntered inside like he owned the place, dropping into the chair across from me without permission.

Arrogance. Overconfidence. Weakness.

I set my pen down, exhaling through my nose as I finally looked at him.

"Mr. Lavere," I greeted, my tone colder than steel. "Anything I can assist you with?"