“The survivor count can’t be wrong,” someone said, voice tight.

  “Then why do we have one extra person? That’s horrifying.”

  Ethan’s gaze swept the table. “It’s simple. One of us isn’t human.”

  A cold ripple went through the room.

  “Y-you mean… a demon’s disguised as a person and blended in with us?”

  “No way. This is a safe house!”

  “It is a safe house,” someone argued, sweating. “Which means the thing probably won’t attack while the timer’s up. But when the safe house expires… all bets are off.”

  People started sweating through their shirts.

  A monster sitting at your table—smiling, talking, waiting—was the kind of fear that crawled under the skin. Like having someone next to you who could turn into a zombie and bite your throat at any second.

  “I heard something…” one person whispered. “If a mission includes someone unusually strong—like a God-Chosen—the mission difficulty can randomly spike.”

  “Are you kidding me?” another groaned. “I’m a total rookie. I just wanted to grab some reward and leave. Now I’m screwed?”

  “Everybody calm down,” a big foreign guy stood up, trying to take control. “I’ve cleared one mission before. I’ll lead you through this.”

  He thumped his chest. “Name’s Jackson. Ladder Points 998. I refused twice, then finally cleared one.”

  People turned to him immediately.

  “Okay, then what’s your plan? I’m not sitting in a room with a monster.”

  “Yeah—when the safe house drops, if it goes berserk and draws other monsters, we’re dead.”

  Jackson spread his hands. “We do verification. Everyone shows something that proves identity, then we tell our life story. A demon won’t have real human details to back it up.”

  He cleared his throat like he was about to audition for a memoir.

  “I, Jackson, was born in—”

  “Jesus Christ, stop,” Ethan cut in, impatient. “You writing a biography or what?”

  Every head snapped toward Ethan.

  Jackson glared. “You know what you’re doing? You’re interfering with our screening. That makes you look suspicious.”

  Ethan’s expression didn’t change. “Yeah, because your plan is dumb. A story proves nothing. Quit treating everyone like idiots.”

  A thin blood spike grew from Ethan’s fingertip.

  “As you can see, I can control blood,” Ethan said casually. “I’m going to poke each of you and feel your blood flow. If someone’s a demon, their blood won’t match a human’s.”

  That was a bluff.

  Ethan didn’t know who the “werewolf” was yet, so he needed to play “seer” and force reactions.

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  People’s faces lit up.

  “Seriously? That would be fast.”

  “I’m in.”

  “We don’t have time—start now.”

  Several of the local recruits immediately sided with Ethan.

  Jackson snapped, loud. “Wait! Don’t trust him. If he’s the demon and this is his trick to earn your trust—my God, do you understand how bad that would be?”

  That pulled everyone back.

  Because… yeah.

  If Ethan was the demon, and they gave him control, they were done.

  Suspicion tightened around the table like a rope.

  Ethan sighed and slapped a credential onto the table.

  THWACK.

  Unit 749 ID.

  A girl in a school uniform nearly squealed. “Oh my god—Unit 749… it’s real!”

  Her name was Lola Keane—freshly awakened, not recruited yet, clueless, bright-eyed, the kind of newbie who thought supernatural agencies were the coolest thing ever. Meeting a real 749 investigator in person was basically her dream.

  “This is great!” she said, eyes sparkling. “If he’s official, no way a demon could fake a 749 ID!”

  A foreigner frowned. “What’s ‘749’?”

  “It’s our country’s main government agency for supernatural incidents,” someone explained.

  Ethan leaned back slightly. “Who’s first?”

  “I am!” Lola raised her hand like she was in class.

  “Sleeve,” Ethan said.

  “Okay!”

  She rolled it up, revealing a pale arm.

  Ethan’s blood needle slipped in.

  “Mm—” Lola made a small sound as a tingling pain spread.

  A few seconds later, Ethan pulled the needle back. “Next.”

  Of course, he didn’t announce any “result,” because there wasn’t one—this was theater.

  He moved clockwise.

  One after another, he pricked seven people.

  Then it was Jackson’s turn.

  Jackson’s face tightened. He didn’t offer his arm. Instead, he slammed his palm on the table.

  “This is bullshit! You’re from your government agency—of course your people will back you. That 749 card means nothing to me!”

  Ethan tilted his head. “That’s a lot of emotion. Kinda sounds like you’re scared.”

  “Don’t try to bait me,” Jackson snapped. “I’m human. I don’t need your approval. You’re not qualified.”

  He shoved Ethan hard.

  Ethan didn’t even stumble.

  Two blood hands grew from Ethan’s back like extra limbs—one on the left, one on the right—and clamped around Jackson’s throat.

  Jackson’s feet lifted off the floor.

  “Hey—HEY! Let me go!”

  Ethan’s voice stayed calm. “I’m going to kill you. I’ll give you one chance to say last words.”

  “Why?! I’m not a demon!”

  “Because you’re annoying,” Ethan said flatly. “And because I feel like it.”

  He pushed the blood needle into Jackson’s chest—slowly—aiming for the heart.

  “And who said I’m only allowed to kill demons?”

  Jackson’s eyes bulged. “No—no—NO!”

  His face twisted—

  and then his skin erupted in scales.

  Muscle swelled.

  Bones popped.

  In a blink, “Jackson” expanded into a gray, ugly thing that barely resembled a human.

  “He’s a demon!”

  “Holy shit!”

  People scrambled back so fast they hit the walls.

  Ethan smiled a little.

  “Weak mental defense,” he said. “That’s all it took to scare you out of hiding?”

  The demon tried to move—

  CRACK.

  The blood hands snapped its neck.

  It collapsed with its head hanging wrong.

  Most people exhaled in relief, thinking it was over.

  “Thank god 749 is here…”

  “If he didn’t catch it, this mission would’ve been a nightmare.”

  “I’m so glad I trusted him.”

  The demon, however, wasn’t dead.

  Neck broken didn’t matter—its true core was the heart. Right now it was in a feigned-death state.

  Damn humans… I’ll make you regret this.

  When the safe house drops, I’ll call the others in. You’re all dead.

  It was still thinking. Still plotting.

  Ethan walked over and crouched beside it.

  The demon’s thoughts went cold.

  Why is he coming over?

  He already won. Everyone’s praising him. He should be enjoying it—

  Ethan formed a short blood knife in his hand and plunged it into the demon’s chest.

  “You’re tough,” Ethan said, grinning. “You really think I don’t double-tap?”

  Killing required a double-tap. Ethan had read enough brain-dead novels and watched enough dumb shows to know the rule: if you drop a dangerous enemy and then stand around talking, you deserve what happens next.

  Also—his reward hadn’t popped yet.

  And Blood Strength hadn’t increased.

  Did they think he was stupid?

  The room recoiled.

  “W-what are you doing?!” someone gasped.

  To everyone else, it looked like Ethan was stabbing a corpse… while smiling.

  It was unsettling as hell.

  THUNK. THUNK. THUNK.

  One stab after another.

  Ten. Twelve. More.

  Finally—

  [“Hunting Thirst” triggered. Blood Strength permanently +1%.]

  Ethan exhaled, satisfied.

  “Much better.”