The masked demon hunter dragged Giou to a local library nearby. The air inside felt stagnant, heavy with the scent of decayed paper and decades of dust.

  Ignoring his surroundings, the masked man vaulted onto a two-meter-high bookshelves. His movement was silent, like a cat.

  He lay down sideways, propping his head on one hand like he was chilling on a couch. His coat tails dangled limply over the shelf’s edge, covering the books below like a torn theater curtain.

  It was a surreal sight in the quiet gloom. Meanwhile, Giou stood below, looking up at him like a nervous student sent to the principal's office.

  "Ummm... Why are we here?" Giou asked.

  "Because it's quiet." He turned his head slightly, then added, "So, tell me about yourself, imbecile demon."

  "A-About me?"

  "Yeah. Your name, backstory, whatever."

  "U-Ummm... M-My name is Giou—"

  "Can you speak properly?" the man cut in. "Quit the stuttering. It's cringe. This isn't an anime."

  "Sorry."

  "LOUDER!" His voice echoed. For a moment, he pulled away the hand supporting his head, leaning over the shelf’s edge until his inverted mask loomed inches above Giou’s face.

  "SORRY!" Giou barked back on reflex.

  "Don't yell, dumbass! My ears—" He flopped back instantly, resuming his lazy pose as if the outburst never happened.

  "...sorry," Giou whispered. “What is wrong with this guy?” he grumbled inside.

  He took a breath, gathering what little nerve he had left. "My name is Giou. I am from the Kingdom of Otraheos. My age is thirty-five. Thirteen years as a Hound, seven years as a Fiend, and fifteen years as a Demoniac."

  The hunter listened in silence, one leather boot swinging rhythmically off the shelf—a ticking metronome of anxiety. His expression was unreadable behind that mask.

  Giou stood there, a cocktail of fear and exhaustion swirling in his gut. He had no idea what this lunatic planned to do. But there was a small irony here: throughout his life, every demon hunter who found him always attacked without hesitation. But this one... He just wanted to chat. Weird, but also relieving.

  "For my first six years as a Demoniac," Giou continued, "I just lived without purpose. Then, I had a thought... A new ideology that could change the world. Slowly, I gathered followers, fought many battles, and eventually, built a community."

  He looked down. " However, they only used the idea of human-demon equality as an excuse to get revenge. But I... I was a terrible leader. They chose a new leader who ruined everything, turning us into a violent group. The kingdom called us criminals. I was caught. Imprisoned. And the king sentenced me to death."

  The hunter atop the shelf shifted slightly, as if finally intrigued. "So you were caught before. How did you get loose?"

  "Right before the execution, they showed up and destroyed everything. Led by a demon I didn't know. His abilities were unique... extraordinary. They saved me and brought me to a safe place."

  "Who's the guy?"

  Giou took a long breath. His eyes glazed over. The question triggered something in his mind—a deep regret.

  "He did not say his name... His height is two meters. I still remember his face clearly. He was interested in my ideology... and the only one who really understood what it meant."

  The hunter sat up, abandoning his lounge pose. He perched on the shelf’s edge, boots swinging idly over the drop as he stared at Giou below.

  "Actually, he had been watching me for years. After he explained to me why my community failed, he gave me an offer—" Giou dipped his head, surrendering to the memory of nine years ago.

  [Nine Years Ago]

  "Since the dawn of time, Ophema and Gehenna have always been separated from Proteum—Natural Law dictates so. We can see humans, but they are blind to our existence. Ironically, this realm—our own land—depends on human lives for its existence. As if their status is higher than ours. Even though we possess equal intelligence." The voice paused, letting the echo of his words seep into the damp walls of the basement. His intonation was full of emphasis, like a leader delivering an oration.

  "Why must we fight? Why must we demons be parasites? Why can't we live in the same realm? Why can't we demons share the same fate as humans? ... Isn't that the naive dream you always glorified?"

  Giou stared at him stiffly. His breath was still hitched, remnants of the fear of death that had nearly claimed him. His mouth hung slightly open, devoid of words. It was the first time anyone had truly dissected his mind like this. The figure in front of him—the demon who had just saved him from the death penalty minutes ago—felt like a savior and a nightmare wrapped in one.

  "I've heard about you for a long time. Back then I thought: this is a neat ideology... So neat it’s just pure fantasy belongs in the garbage," he chuckled low. His figure remained a statue in the corner, blending into the pitch darkness. "So, I let you fail."

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  The demon stepped forward, yet his face remained hidden in shadow. Authority, charisma, and intimidation—these were the three words that perfectly described him.

  "But," his tone sharpened. "Over time, my curiosity was piqued. I started conducting experiments. I built an organization. Curiosity turned into interest. And now, this project has become my next game, hahaha. That's why I saved you; to thank you for giving me the idea."

  Giou said nothing, shoulders sagging under the weight of his own failure. The ambition that once drove him was dead. Even the mysterious demon's rhetoric sounded hollow to his ears.

  "What if I give you a second chance?" he continued. "Join my organization."

  "Organization?" Giou looked up, confused.

  "An organization encompassing all three domains. Demon, Jinn, Human... merged as one. There, every spirit possesses their own Proteum body. We move toward a single goal: building a utopian city where all spiritual entities can coexist with humans. No existential barriers. No social inequality. And most importantly, no more need to be parasites." The figure spread his arms wide, embracing the dark like an old friend.

  Giou’s eyes widened. "Impossible... You have a human body!?"

  "Why wouldn't I?"

  "That is... insane..."

  “So... What do you think?”

  [2020]

  The flashback faded slowly as Giou lifted his head, returning to the silent library. The fluorescent light felt cold on his skin, not much different from the atmosphere in his memory.

  "I said no," he continued.

  "Why?" asked the masked man.

  "Because... I felt it was useless." His voice weakened. "At that time, I was ready to... give up on everything. It is better to accept reality than to die with hope."

  The hunter chuckled softly. "Too afraid to pursue your dream, huh? Pathetic." Giou bit his tongue.

  "I spent the next nine years hiding in the spirit realm, trying to avoid other demons as much as possible. Until a few days ago... they found me." He sighed.

  The masked man hummed. "Owh. Is that so."

  Giou paused, slightly surprised that his story wasn't met with laughter or ridicule. He continued, "I truly owe him my life... I hope we can meet again someday."

  "Alright. I've decided." The masked man leaned forward, letting gravity pull him down. He landed on the tiled floor almost silently, knees bending fluidly to absorb the impact. His coat flared dramatically before settling around his frame as he stood tall before Giou. "You're my slave now."

  "Eh?" Giou flinched back.

  "I keep the demons off your back," he stated, "and in exchange, you do whatever I say. Deal?"

  "But... you are a demon hunter—"

  "Answer with 'yes' or 'no'."

  Giou froze. It sounded like a choice, but it wasn't. Say no, and this guy probably kills him before he can blink. Accepting wasn't exactly a pleasant solution either. He had been a slave before—it leaves nothing but bad memories.

  "Y... yes," he whispered.

  "Hah? Can't hear you..." The man cupped an ear just to mock him.

  "Yes!" Giou repeated, louder this time.

  "Good. You've signed the contract." He pointed a finger at Giou. "From now on, call me Master Aru. Full title: The Great Lord Aruna the Harem King, a man determined to make all women fall for him and choose the best eight to be his wives... Remember that."

  Yes, the masked man who had just saved Giou was none other than Arua. And somehow, he delivered that line with zero shame.

  Giou gulped. "Understood, Master Aru." He had no clue this moment just rewrote his fate.

  Arua nodded. "Cool."

  The man turned and walked toward his physical body, which he had left sleeping on the desk with face buried in books, surrounded by scattered papers and a still-lit laptop. As his consciousness re-entered, his physical body woke up. Giou approached him cautiously.

  Without saying much, he started packing, shoving gear into his bag carelessly—ignoring tidiness, as long as it fit. "We're going back to my place," he muttered, tossing a final pen into the case. "And you're gonna learn math."

  Giou stared in disbelief. "Wait... what!?"

  True to his word, the second they arrived at his cramped boarding room, Arua immediately shoved the basics of mathematical operations into the demon's head. For Giou, it was ironic. Nine years of wandering had made him memorize the city map, yet he was illiterate to the systems that underpinned this civilization. His brain was now forced to crawl like a homeless just learning the alphabet.

  Time flew. Arua kept his promise with a special spiritual cloak, woven by an Artificer acquaintance. It wasn't just fabric. It’s a magical technology that camouflaged Giou’s existence. To other spiritual beings—demons, jinns, or supernaturalists—that cloak (and anything behind) was merely Noi, Ophema objects that are just projections of Proteum. He was effectively invisible.

  Inside that room, under the wing of Arua the demon hunter, Giou finally found something he hadn't felt in a long time: safety.

  However Arua wasn't the "stand and deliver" type of teacher. He was all about efficiency. Literature, science, history, economics, even social etiquette—he dumped it all on Giou through auto-scrolling programs, videos, and the page-turner device. He tossed the keys; Giou drove the car. And the demon drove fast. Within months, the demon's knowledge rivaled that of a junior high schooler.

  Then came the physical training. Between his gaming sessions or part-time jobs, Arua occasionally equipped Giou with combat skills: martial arts basics, magic techniques, and how to maximize his special abilities.

  Spirits possessed natural Nexus because they spawned and raised in a domain where magic was a tangible reality. For Giou's species, the ability was generating electric currents. Not biological like an eel, as the energy output was massive. He used Energy Conversion Nexus: transforming environmental energy into electricity stored as Pseudo-spiria (non-physical substance) behind his body. This was what he used to shock his opponents.

  Previously, Giou had survived on instinct alone. He attacked by touch and zap. Arua taught him that he could actually control the electricity properties, turning his body into a magnet, creating weapons, siphoning energy from power lines, designing simple taser guns, even turning his hands into Shielded Metal Arc Welding (SMAW) electrodes. One brief demonstration, and then he leaved, letting Giou practice on his own.

  Giou didn't complain. There was something about Arua’s attitude that made him stay. The young man never treated him as a monster, but as a student who was behind on his homework. From there, Giou’s respect grew. He began to see Arua not just a master or teacher, but a figure filling a void he hadn't realized existed. Someone who—despite being eighteen years younger—gave him direction.

  However as he dissected sociology and electrical physics, a new problem sprouted: doubt. The more he understood humans, the less he understood himself. Knowledge was a spotlight, and it was highlighting just how lost he really was.

  His utopian dream of uniting two worlds might have been buried deep in the trash heap of history. But the itch to "become" human still clung to his heart. He knew it was impossible. He knew that studying them offered only a pseudo-satisfaction. But at least, in that tiny room, he could taste what it was like to think and live like one.