Title:MY DEMON, MY ANGEL

SEASON 1

CHAPTER 1: The Demon in the Dark

The rain was merciless. Each drop seemed to sting against the cracked pavement, pooling into rivers that snaked through the alleyways. Thunder cracked like the growl of some god too bored to care.

Jeremy stood over the cooling corpse of his contract, vial of soul glowing faintly in his palm, when the scream ripped through the storm.

It wasn’t the scream of someone being stabbed or struck. No—this was a plea, raw and breaking.

He turned.

The alley stretched like a tunnel of shadows, lined with dumpsters overflowing, neon signs flickering faint red and blue from the main street. In that wet cage, five masked assassins hunted down a girl.

She was fast, but not trained. Her shoes slipped on the slick pavement. One heel snapped, sending her crashing against the wall. She scrambled, clutching at her dress as she staggered upright again. Her breathing was loud, frantic—an animal trapped.

One assassin laughed, voice muffled by the mask.

“Run, little mouse. Run faster.”

She spun, her back smacking the wall, and her eyes darted desperately for escape. Golden hair plastered against her face, mascara bleeding into the rain.

The tallest of them raised his blade—jagged steel with symbols etched down its length, glinting in lightning.

“This ends here.”

The girl flinched back, choking on her own sobs.

“No—please—I don’t want to die!”

The blade came down.

A hand stopped it mid-air.

Jeremy stood there, still as if carved from the storm itself, his fingers wrapped around the assassin’s wrist. The man’s strength was nothing against that calm, unyielding grip. Jeremy’s crimson eyes lifted, their glow faint but sharp enough to pierce through the mask.

“Pathetic,” Jeremy whispered.

The assassin growled, trying to pull free. Jeremy twisted. Bone snapped with a crack that blended with thunder. The man’s scream drowned in rain. Jeremy shoved him aside, stepping forward into the circle of killers.

“You chose the wrong prey.”

Then the demon woke.

Jeremy moved with terrifying elegance. His heel smashed into one attacker’s chest, sending the man flying ten feet back into a dumpster with a crash of bending metal. Another swung a blade toward his neck—Jeremy tilted his head, the weapon missing by inches, then jabbed his fingers into the man’s ribs so hard his body folded and collapsed in the water.

“Kill him!” one shouted.

Three rushed at once.

Jeremy’s crucifix bracelet glowed faintly black. He extended two fingers, mimicking a gun. Lightning flashed—and a shadow-bullet burst from his hand, exploding into the chest of the nearest attacker, who convulsed before hitting the pavement.

The other two froze. Too late.

Jeremy snapped his fingers. Shadows uncoiled from the alley floor like serpents, wrapping around their ankles. The assassins screamed as the ground swallowed them whole, their masks vanishing last into the dark.

The girl pressed herself flat against the wall, trembling, eyes wide and fixed on him. She had seen everything. The impossible violence. The fire, the shadows, the inhuman calm of the boy who looked barely older than her.

He turned toward her. For a moment, she thought he might kill her too.

But instead, he began to walk away, the storm parting subtly around him as though it didn’t dare touch his shoulders.

Her voice broke again, ragged and full of fear.

“Please… save me!”

She stumbled toward him. Before he could react, her arms wrapped tightly around him, fingers clinging to his suit as if he were her only anchor in the storm.

Jeremy’s eyes widened. No one touched him. No one dared.

Then her body went limp. She fainted, still clutching him.

Jeremy caught her, staring down at her face. Even unconscious, she looked desperate, her lips parted as though still trying to form the word please. Something stirred in him—not pity, not mercy, but… something heavier.

With a sigh, Jeremy adjusted his grip, lifting her effortlessly into his arms.

The alley behind them erupted in fire, swallowing evidence, consuming screams. Jeremy walked into the rain, carrying the girl whose name he didn’t yet know.

CHAPTER 1: PART 2 – The Demon Powerless

The morning sun filtered through tinted glass windows of the Aeterna Corporation’s headquarters, a skyscraper of black steel stabbing into the clouds. Inside, the penthouse office belonged to Jeremy.

He sat behind his desk, a wall of glass stretching behind him to reveal the entire city. His suit was immaculate as ever, his crucifix necklace resting neatly on his chest. Papers, reports, and digital screens hovered before him in perfect order. To the human eye, Jeremy looked every inch the unshakable young CEO.

But inside—something was wrong.

He flicked his wrist toward a pen resting on the desk. Normally, it would rise, float into his hand. But nothing moved.

Jeremy frowned. His eyes glowed faintly red. He pushed harder—telekinesis refused him.

He closed his eyes, reaching for the silence of telepathy. Normally, the thoughts of every employee in the tower whispered faintly like static. Today—silence.

Jeremy tapped the crucifix on his wrist. No pulse. No burn. Nothing.

A chill crept into his chest—not fear, but unease. He tried again. He mimed the trigger of a gun at the empty wall. His hand shook slightly when no shadow-bullet came.

The door opened. Joel, his personal assistant, stepped inside. Tall, sharp-dressed, glasses framing eyes that missed little. Loyal to Jeremy beyond all measure.

“You called for me, sir?” Joel asked.

Jeremy didn’t turn his chair. His voice was calm, but edged.

“Something’s wrong.”

Joel stepped closer. “What do you mean?”

Jeremy finally faced him. His crimson eyes were dimmer than usual, almost human. He raised his wrist, tugging back his sleeve. Smooth skin. No crucifix mark.

Joel’s eyes widened slightly, though he quickly composed himself.

“The mark… it’s gone?”

Jeremy nodded once.

“Both. The chest and the wrist. Vanished.”

Joel hesitated, studying him carefully. “Then… you are…”

“Human,” Jeremy said flatly, though the word tasted bitter.

For the first time in fifteen trillion years, Jeremy felt small. Mortal.

He closed his eyes. And in that darkness, memory flickered back: the girl in his arms, her lips against his, the tear falling, the burst of light.

Jeremy opened his eyes and said quietly, “Her.”

Joel tilted his head. “Her?”

“The girl. The one I saved last night.” Jeremy’s voice sharpened. “Find her. Now. Arrange a meeting immediately.”

Joel adjusted his glasses. “Yes, sir.”

Jeremy’s gaze fell back to the city, his reflection staring back at him from the glass. His jaw tightened.

The demon had become powerless. And the cause… was a kiss.

CHAPTER 1 (continued) – The Demon Powerless (Extended at Aeterna HQ)

The office was too quiet.

Jeremy leaned back in his leather chair, staring at his reflection in the glass wall. It was uncanny. His face looked the same, but there was… hollowness in his gaze. The faint glow of his irises had dulled.

He extended his hand again, palm facing up. He imagined the flicker of flame, the roar of fire that usually burst from his skin like a second breath. Nothing. His hand trembled.

“Pathetic,” he whispered, echoing the word he had thrown at the assassin the night before—but now it tasted like venom against himself.

Joel returned with coffee, setting it on the desk carefully. He lingered a moment, studying Jeremy.

“You’ve tried more than once.”

Jeremy said nothing.

Joel adjusted his glasses. “Perhaps it’s temporary. A fluctuation.”

Jeremy’s jaw clenched. “Fluctuation?” His voice cut sharp as a blade. “Do you know when I last failed to conjure fire? Or hear the whisper of thought?”

Joel said nothing, wisely.

Jeremy rose. His footsteps across the marble floor were soft, deliberate. He stopped before the far wall where a full-length mirror stood. His suit reflected back. His crucifix necklace rested calmly on his chest, black and cold. No glow. No pulse. Just an ornament.

“Look.” Jeremy tugged open his shirt collar. His chest was smooth, pale. The black crucifix birthmark that had burned into his flesh for eternity—gone. His wrist, bare.

Joel inhaled softly, though he masked it with a calm nod. “Something… has been taken.”

Jeremy’s reflection spoke back to him in silence. His lips curled.

“Stolen.”

He turned back toward his desk, snatching the coffee Joel had brought and tossing it into the air with a flick of irritation. The porcelain cup should have floated, hovered, danced before shattering. Instead, it fell.

The crash echoed too loud in the office. Brown liquid splashed across the floor.

Jeremy’s crimson eyes narrowed, anger and humiliation swirling. For a being who could bend reality, to be reduced to clumsy human hands was unbearable.

He exhaled sharply and sat again, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. His voice, low and measured, cut through the silence.

“She kissed me.”

Joel blinked. “…Sir?”

Jeremy’s gaze flicked to him, unreadable. “The girl. The one from last night. She fainted. But before that—she kissed me.” His eyes darkened. “And when she did… the mark vanished.”

Joel straightened. “Then she has it now.”

“Yes.” Jeremy’s voice was low, edged with cold certainty. “And I want it back.”

Joel inclined his head. “I’ll arrange a meeting.”

Jeremy nodded once, dismissing him. Alone again, he leaned back into the chair, staring at the ceiling. For the first time in trillions of years, Jeremy felt a strange sensation gnawing at his chest.

Not anger. Not fear. Something worse.

Vulnerability.

CHAPTER 2 – The Crucifix Revelation

The silence after her gasp was heavy, pressing against the glass walls of her office.

Beyonce stared down at the black crucifix birthmark etched into her chest, her breath caught in her throat. It was so sharp, so perfect, as if it had always been there beneath her skin. She tugged at her sleeve with trembling fingers, and when she saw the second mark carved into her wrist, her knees almost buckled.

Her heart thundered against her ribs. “Oh my God,” she whispered, the words barely leaving her lips. “It’s… it’s real.”

Jeremy stood still, watching her as one might watch a storm forming on the horizon. His crimson eyes betrayed no surprise—only certainty.

Beyonce spun toward him, her voice breaking. “How come I have your crucifix? This doesn’t make sense!”

Jeremy’s expression didn’t shift. His voice was low, firm, inevitable.

“It happened when you kissed me.”

Her eyes widened, her lips parting. “I—kissed you?”

“Yes.” He took a step closer, the air between them taut with unspoken tension. “And when you did, the marks left me. You carry what was mine.”

Beyonce shook her head quickly, as though the motion itself could erase the words.

“No. No, that’s impossible. Things like this don’t happen. You—you can’t just transfer marks or powers or—or whatever this is—by kissing!”

Jeremy’s jaw tightened. His tone sharpened.

“Not by choice. By fate.”

She backed toward her desk, clutching her blouse closed with one hand, still pressing her wrist against her chest as though trying to force the mark to vanish. Her laugh was nervous, brittle, defiant.

“Are you even listening to yourself? Do you know how ridiculous you sound? You’re just a guy. A strange one, maybe, but still just a guy. You’re not… whatever you think you are.”

Jeremy’s gaze darkened. He stepped forward until the light caught the sharp line of his jaw, the crucifix necklace glinting faintly against his shirt. His voice was calm, but it carried the weight of millennia.

“Not all demons wear horns and crawl on their bellies. Not all monsters look like nightmares. Some of us… look like men.”

Her lips pressed together. She shook her head again, almost angrily.

“No. You’re trying to scare me. You’re just a—what? Some delusional… cosplayer? An escapee from a mental ward?”

Jeremy’s voice deepened. “I am not a man.”

“Oh yeah? Then what are you supposed to be?”

“A demon,” he said simply.

The word cracked like thunder between them.

Beyonce froze. Then—laughed. Sharp, disbelieving, defensive laughter.

“You’re insane. You’re standing in my office in a thousand-dollar suit, telling me you’re a demon. And what? I’m supposed to bow? To scream?” She stepped toward him now, her chin lifted defiantly. “You’re just a young-looking boy. What are you—twenty? Twenty-one?”

Jeremy’s eyes glowed faintly red, not bright, but enough to shimmer unnaturally in the daylight. He leaned down slightly, close enough for his whisper to chill the air between them.

“Seeing your age, I am twice as old as your first ancestors. I am fifteen trillion years old.”

Her laugh died in her throat. The color drained from her face.

“You’re… what?” she breathed.

“Fifteen. Trillion. Years,” he repeated, each word deliberate, carved into the silence. “I have walked beneath stars that no longer exist. I have bartered with kings who have long turned to dust. I have ended the lives of men who begged for death as the world forgot them.”

Beyonce staggered back, hitting the edge of her desk, gripping it tightly for balance. Her chest rose and fell with shallow, rapid breaths.

“That’s impossible,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Nothing… no one… lives that long.”

Jeremy straightened, his gaze never leaving her. His presence filled the room, immense and suffocating, as though the walls themselves bent under the truth of his words.

“You think time binds me? You think mortality defines me? I am not a creature of your world, Beyonce.”

She shook her head violently, eyes wild. “No. No, no, no—this is a nightmare. That’s all. A nightmare. I’m just imagining this. You’re—you’re human. You have to be.”

Jeremy’s expression softened only slightly, though his eyes still burned with otherworldly fire.

“Please. Not all demons look horrifying. That is the lie humans tell themselves so they can sleep at night.”

Her voice cracked as she whispered, “Why me? Why did this happen to me?”

Jeremy’s gaze lowered briefly to the crucifix on her wrist before lifting back to her face.

“Because you stole my kiss. My first kiss. And with it, you stole my mark.”

Her lips parted, stunned.

“First… kiss?”

“Yes.” His voice was sharp, final. “In fifteen trillion years, no one has ever touched me that way. And because of that moment, I am powerless. Vulnerable.” His eyes narrowed, voice dropping into a blade-edged whisper. “So, you will kiss me again. And return what is mine.”

The silence stretched. Beyonce stared at him, her heart hammering, the crucifix birthmark burning faintly against her skin as though it recognized its true master.

But her voice, though trembling, came out steady.

“And if I don’t?”

Jeremy’s crimson eyes flared with a glint of danger—and something else. Something deeper.

“Then,” he murmured, “you will learn what it means to carry the weight of a demon’s soul.”