The man didn't move, but the space around him did.
It was as if the room had tilted without tilting—shadows stretched in unnatural directions, colors drained just enough to feel wrong.
Ethan stood still, one hand resting on the edge of the door he'd just closed. "My truth?" he repeated, tasting the words. "That's not a currency."
The man's lips curved, faintly. "It is to those who know how to spend it."
His gaze swept the room slowly, lingering on Lena, who still hadn't moved since the wineglass shattered. Her eyes were glassy, fixed on nothing.
Ethan's voice sharpened. "What did you do to her?"
"Nothing," the man replied. "She is… tuned out. She exists outside this conversation, for her own safety."
"Her own safety?" Ethan almost laughed, but it caught in his throat. "Who the hell are you?"
The man tilted his head slightly, as though amused by the question. "I am an interested party. Let's leave it at that."
---
He walked—if you could call it that—across the living room. His steps made no sound, not even the faint vibration of weight on marble. He stopped by the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the endless sprawl of city lights.
"The Devil gave you everything you asked for," he said quietly. "He always does. But his deals are… shallow. One-dimensional. You ask for money, he gives you money. You ask for love, he gives you a lover. But depth… depth is beyond him."
Ethan narrowed his eyes. "And you're offering me depth?"
"I'm offering you freedom."
"Freedom from what?"
The man finally turned away from the window, and for the first time, Ethan noticed something strange—there was no reflection of him in the glass.
"Freedom," the man said, "from the fine print you didn't bother to read."
Ethan's mind flickered back to the contract. He'd read it twice. Every clause, every twisted word, and yet… his stomach tightened. He hadn't read it. Not really. Not in the way you read something when you expect it to bite.
---
The man took a step closer.
"I don't want your love, your wealth, or your soul," he said. "I want the story you've buried so deep you pretend it never happened. The thing you've never told a soul. Give me that truth, and I will make you untouchable—even to him."
Ethan tried to mask the flicker in his eyes, but the man noticed. Of course he noticed.
"Ah," he said softly. "There it is."
Ethan's pulse quickened. He had spent years—lifetimes—making sure no one ever found out. That night. That single night that had set fire to his old life and left him desperate enough to bargain away his soul.
"Why do you want it?" Ethan asked. His voice was calm, but his knuckles were white against the doorframe.
"Because truth," the man said, "is the only thing even the Devil can't counterfeit. And when you give it to me, I can use it to unbind you."
---
Lena suddenly blinked and looked around, her body shuddering like someone waking from a deep dream. She glanced at the broken glass.
"What—Ethan, what happened?" she asked, her voice uncertain.
Ethan opened his mouth, but the man raised one pale hand.
"I'll give you time to consider my offer," he said. "Three days. At the end of the third night, I will return. With or without your truth."
"And if I say no?" Ethan asked.
The man's faint smile didn't reach his eyes. "You won't."
Then, without another sound, he stepped backward into the corner of the room—and simply wasn't there anymore. The space where he had stood felt colder for a heartbeat, then warm again, as if he had never existed.
---
Lena's voice pulled him back. "Ethan…? You're shaking."
He looked at his hands and realized she was right. He poured himself a glass of wine, swallowing half of it before answering.
"Just a business call," he lied.
But his mind was anything but calm. He walked to his desk and pulled out the Devil's contract from a locked drawer. It felt heavier than he remembered. He scanned it, eyes moving faster and faster until he found it—Clause 27.
"All truths shall remain bound to the soul, and the soul shall remain bound to me."
He hadn't noticed it before. It wasn't even in the same font size. And now it made sense—if the Devil owned his soul, he also owned his truths. But somehow, this… other man thought he could take one.
Which meant one of two things:
Either the Devil could be outplayed… or Ethan was being drawn into a much bigger game.
---
That night, Ethan couldn't sleep. He kept seeing the man's empty eyes, hearing the way he'd said There it is. As if he already knew the truth Ethan was hiding. As if it wasn't hidden at all.
He got up at 3:14 a.m., pulled on a jacket, and stepped onto the balcony. The city glowed beneath him, alive and indifferent. Somewhere out there, the Devil was waiting. Somewhere else, so was the other man.
Ethan had three days.
And one truth.
And whichever way he played it, someone was going to own him.
---
End of Chapter 2
Next: Chapter 3 — The Truth He Swore to Bury
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