THIRD PERSON'S POV

After Demon was sentenced to death and paraded in the plaza, she was escorted back to her cell—a small, filthy space that reeked of decay and hopelessness. Blood stained her skin, a result of the crowd's anger. Rocks, rotten food, and even glass bottles had been hurled at her. Her face remained expressionless, seemingly unaffected by the hatred of the people, but the faint trail of blood running down her temple betrayed the toll it had taken. 

The underling assigned to escort her cast a glance at her bruised and battered form. His thoughts betrayed him. 
“She’s bleeding… how can she still look so unshaken?” 

Demon stepped into her cell without a word, her movements slow and deliberate. The heavy door slammed shut behind her, leaving her alone in the suffocating darkness. She immediately reached for a small vial hidden among her meager belongings and drank it in one swift motion, her breathing heavy but controlled. 

In the surveillance room, Ice and Lux watched her every move through the monitors. 

“What the hell is that?” Ice muttered, narrowing his eyes at the screen. 

Lux crossed her arms, her voice laced with disbelief. “Is she… trying to poison herself?” 

Before Ice could respond, a faint, chilling giggle escaped Demon's lips, audible through the monitor’s speakers. 

“They really hate me,” Demon said softly, her voice carrying an unsettling mix of amusement and exhaustion. “Did you see the anger in their eyes? It’s very satisfying, isn’t it?” 

Lux frowned, leaning closer to the screen. “Who is she talking to? There’s no one else in there.” 

Then the name escaped Demon’s lips, soft and almost reverent. “Conan.” 

Ice and Lux froze. 

“Conan?” Lux whispered, her heart tightening. She turned to Ice, who was already rewinding the footage. 

“There’s no one else in her cell,” Ice confirmed. 

Lux’s throat constricted as emotions surged. “Is she losing her mind? Why is she talking to him as if… as if he’s still alive?” 

The name alone was enough to shatter Lux’s carefully guarded composure. Conan—her younger brother, the one she had loved and lost. The one who had given his life for Demon. 

Ice didn’t waste time. He stormed out of the room and headed for Demon’s cell, his mind clouded with anger and confusion. When he reached her, he found her sitting on the cold floor, her back pressed against the wall, a small, twisted smile on her lips. 

“Mister,” Demon said, her tone light, almost playful. “You’re here. Would you like to meet Conan?” 

Ice’s jaw clenched as a surge of rage overtook him. In an instant, his hand shot out, gripping her throat and slamming her against the wall. 

“Don’t mock me!” he hissed through gritted teeth. “I told you, didn’t I?" 

Demon didn’t flinch. She tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Mister, have I done something terrible to you? Is that why you’re so angry?” 

Her hand reached up, her fingers brushing against Ice’s cheek with surprising gentleness. He froze, caught off guard by the softness of her touch. 

“What are you—” 

“You have a wound on your cheek,” Demon said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Let me take care of it.” 

Ice’s grip faltered, and she stepped closer, pressing her lips against the scar on his cheek in a tender, fleeting kiss. The warmth of the gesture sent a jolt through him. 

The Demon before him wasn’t the ruthless manipulator he had come to hate. This Demon was fragile, vulnerable—almost… human. 

“Oh,” Demon murmured, her lips curling into a small, mischievous smile. “There’s more on your lips.” 

Before Ice could react, her lips brushed against his. He wanted to push her away, to yell at her for daring to manipulate him like this, but his body betrayed him. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer. 

“Mister, are you okay?” Demon whispered against his lips, her voice soft and trembling. 

Ice pulled back, his anger flaring once more. “Open your mouth,” he ordered harshly. 

Demon obeyed without hesitation, her eyes wide and innocent. Ice inserted two fingers into her mouth, his jaw tightening as he tried to regain control over his emotions. 

“I’ll punish you for everything you’ve done,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Let’s see how long you can keep up this act.” 

But as his fingers brushed against her tongue, Demon didn’t resist. She didn’t fight back. Instead, her eyes filled with something Ice hadn’t expected: sadness. 

“Mister,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Stop… you’re not Conan.” 

Ice’s breath hitched. Her words cut deeper than any blade. 

“I love Conan,” Demon said, her voice cracking as tears welled in her eyes. “Conan… please… help me.” 

Ice stumbled back, his hands trembling. 

“Conan is dead!” he yelled, his voice echoing in the small cell. “I’m the one standing in front of you! Say you want me to stay with you! Say you regret what you’ve done! Say it, and I’ll find a way to save you!” 

Demon’s gaze met his, her eyes filled with quiet defiance. “Mister, I don’t remember who you are in my life. All I know is… you’re not Conan. Conan is the one I love.” 

Ice’s shoulders slumped, his rage giving way to despair. He let out a bitter laugh, cursing under his breath as he turned and stormed out of the cell. 

Outside, Lux stood in the shadows, her face wet with tears. She had heard everything. 

“Conan,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You weren’t the only one who loved her… she loved you too.” 

---

"What’s that?" Ice demanded, glaring at the small vial in the doctor’s hands. 

The doctor, an older man with sharp eyes and decades of experience, studied the liquid carefully before responding. "This is a high-class drug designed to numb the body entirely. It shuts down the nervous system’s ability to feel pain. However, if taken in large doses over time, it can affect brain function—causing confusion, hallucinations, or, in extreme cases, complete memory loss." 

Ice’s eyes widened in disbelief. "Why the hell is she taking something like this?" He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. 

The doctor sighed heavily, shaking his head. "This is her secret. The reason why Demon still fights with her head held high, why no matter what happens to her body, she keeps going—she doesn’t feel pain. Her body is numb. It’s why she can endure the unimaginable." 

Ice clenched his fists, pacing back and forth. "There has to be something that can reverse this! Some kind of cure! She can’t just erase her past—she can’t forget all the horrible things she’s done!" 

The doctor met his frantic gaze, his expression grim. "It’s not that simple. The drug’s components are unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It would take months, if not years, of intense research to even understand its composition, let alone create a counteragent. And even then… the damage may already be irreversible." 

Ice’s heart sank. "So there’s no hope?" 

The doctor hesitated, then added cautiously, "If she stops taking it, there’s a chance fragments of her memories could return. But only fragments—nothing close to complete restoration." 

Ice sank into a chair, gripping the edges as his mind raced. He glanced around the room and noticed something odd. The once-busy hospital was quiet—too quiet. 

"Where the hell is everyone?" he demanded, his voice sharp. 

The doctor adjusted his glasses and replied, "You mean the patients? They were treated and discharged quickly. This hospital has more doctors now than ever before. It’s part of Demon’s reforms—she implemented a law that ensures every hospital is fully staffed. No patient waits long for treatment anymore. Doctors are paid well enough that they don’t need second jobs or side hustles." 

Ice froze, his mind unable to reconcile the words he was hearing. "She did that?" 

"Yes," the doctor continued, oblivious to the storm brewing in Ice’s expression. "Not just here. She changed the education system too—ensuring that rich or poor, everyone has equal access to quality schooling. If it weren’t for her violent methods and reputation as a criminal, I’d say she’s the kind of leader this country desperately needs. She’s exposed corruption, forced change, and brought order. But… violence is her way of achieving these things." 

Ice’s fists slammed against the armrests of the chair, his knuckles white. "She’s still a criminal," he spat through gritted teeth. "No matter what good she’s done, her hands are soaked in blood. She needs to be punished." 

---

As Ice stormed into the dark corridors of the underground prison, he couldn’t shake the conflicting emotions raging within him. When he reached Demon’s cell, she was sitting on the floor, her legs crossed, absentmindedly spinning the cork of her empty medicine bottle between her fingers. 

She didn’t bother looking up when the heavy iron door creaked shut behind him. Instead, she greeted him without so much as a glance. 

"Oh, Mister. Did you come here to offer your charming company or to finally decide on the best way to kill me?" She smirked, tossing the cork into the air like a coin before catching it again. 

Ice’s jaw clenched, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Do you ever take anything seriously?" 

Demon tilted her head, finally looking up at him, her expression one of exaggerated surprise. "Take what seriously? Life? Death? You? Oh no, Mister. If I started taking things seriously now, it would ruin my whole aesthetic." 

Ice stepped closer, his fists tightening. "You think this is a joke? Everything you’ve done—all the lives you’ve destroyed—none of it matters to you?" 

Demon leaned back against the wall, resting her head lazily on the cold stone. "Mister, everything matters. I’m just smart enough to laugh about it. If I didn’t, all this seriousness might give me wrinkles." 

"You're insufferable," Ice hissed, his voice low and full of fury. 

"And you’re adorable when you’re angry," she teased, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Maybe that’s why you keep visiting me. Are you developing a little crush, Mister?" 

Ice froze, his face heating up in spite of himself. "Don’t flatter yourself, Demon," he growled. 

Demon burst into laughter, clutching her stomach. "Oh, you’re so much fun to mess with. Did you think you’d come in here and find me sobbing, begging for forgiveness? Not a chance." 

"You’re unbelievable." Ice shook his head, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Do you even care what’s going to happen to you? You’re facing execution, Demon." 

"Execution, huh?" She pretended to think it over, her eyes glinting with mischief. "I suppose it’s about time I got some rest. I hear eternal sleep does wonders for the complexion." 

Ice stared at her, his anger faltering as confusion set in. "How can you be this... this *detached*?" 

Demon’s grin faded slightly, though her playful demeanor remained. "Detached? No, Mister. I’m very much attached—to the chaos I’ve created, to the changes I’ve forced on this broken world. I’m attached to seeing just how far this story goes. If I cry or grovel, it changes nothing. So why not enjoy the ride?" 

Ice felt his grip on the situation slipping. He had come here hoping to see regret, some crack in her armor. But instead, all he found was a woman who turned every confrontation into a game. 

"Get some rest," he muttered, his voice tight as he turned to leave. 

"Sweet dreams, Mister," Demon called after him with a mocking lilt. "And don’t forget to visit me tomorrow. You’re the highlight of my day!" 

As the door slammed shut, Demon leaned back against the wall and smirked to herself. "This is too much fun." She spun the cork in her fingers one last time before flicking it across the cell. 

If they wanted her to break, they were going to have to try a lot harder than that.

The Next Day 

The air was thick with tension when the first scream echoed through the underground. It was a sound so raw, so full of pain, that it made everyone pause. 

"What is that?" Ice asked, his voice sharp with concern, as he rushed toward the control room with Claire close behind. 

"Demon’s screams... they won’t stop," came the reply, the tension palpable in the room. 

"I’ll go check it out," Ice said, his brows furrowed with determination. But he glanced at Claire, seeking permission. 

"Go ahead and see what’s happening," Claire nodded, her eyes shadowed with worry. 

Ice hurried down the long, dimly lit corridor, his footsteps echoing in the silence that followed the screams. As he approached Demon’s cell, he was hit by the sound of destruction—crashing metal, broken glass, and the unmistakable sound of someone writhing in agony. 

When he opened the door, the scene was chaotic. Demon's cell had been torn apart—equipment was scattered across the floor, and there were signs of struggle, but the worst was the sight of Demon herself. 

She was kneeling on the floor, her body trembling violently as her fingers dug into her scalp, pulling at her hair in desperate frustration. Her eyes were wide, almost wild, as she looked up at Ice, her gaze frantic. 

"What’s going on here?" Ice asked, his voice gruff with confusion and concern. 

The moment Demon locked eyes with him, something in her snapped. She crawled toward him, moving faster than he anticipated, and grabbed him by the collar with surprising strength. 

"Where’s my medicine?!" she demanded, her voice desperate, almost feral. "You took it, didn’t you? Give it back! NOW!" 

Her grip tightened, her breath ragged and uneven, but then, without warning, her body trembled even more violently. 

"AAAAHHH!" Demon screamed as she fell to her knees, clutching her chest as if her heart were being torn apart from the inside. Her eyes fluttered as the pain began to overwhelm her—her body reacting violently to the withdrawal from her medication. 

She gasped, gasping for air as her fingers dug into the cold stone floor. "It hurts… it hurts so much…" Her voice cracked with pain, tears streaming down her face as she rocked back and forth. "Please… please…" 

Ice’s eyes narrowed as he watched her breakdown, his heart twisting slightly at the sight. But a smile crept onto his lips, cruel and unrepentant. 

"Huh, looks like the arrogant Demon from last night is gone," Ice said, the mocking tone in his voice hard to ignore. "Replaced by this... weak thing. Does it hurt? It should. You deserve this pain." 

"AAAAAAAAHHHH NOOO!" Demon screamed, her voice torn between desperation and anguish. She grabbed at her own hair, pulling it out in clumps, her face contorting with the effort to endure the torment. "Give it back to me Maniego!" She writhed on the floor, a pitiful sight—her strength and control slipping away with every second. 

Ice stood there, watching her collapse, his gaze cold. He let out a dark chuckle. "Ahh, so you remember now. What a pity. But I’ve already disposed of all your medications. You’ll just have to wait and die slowly." 

"Maniego! Maniego! NOOO!" Demon’s voice was frantic, her hands trembling as she clawed at her own body, desperately trying to escape the pain. Her words were incoherent, her mind clouded with the memories of her past torment and the realization that Conan was gone. 

Her body jerked violently with each wave of pain, her breath ragged as she tried, and failed, to push through it. Ice watched with cruel satisfaction, his expression unreadable, but a flicker of something—perhaps remorse—passed across his face for a brief moment before it was gone. 

Demon was no longer the unstoppable force she once was. She was broken, lost in a haze of memory and pain, and it was clear that her world was crumbling around her. But even in this state, a part of her resisted—she wouldn’t give in, not entirely. The Demon that had once ruled with an iron fist was now reduced to a trembling shell of her former self. 

But Ice had no intention of showing mercy. He stood there, watching her suffer, and for a moment, there was no hint of humanity left in his gaze.

---

"What the hell are they doing to Demon?" Zeus's voice echoed through the damp, suffocating cell, his frustration palpable as he paced back and forth. His fists clenched at his sides, and his eyes darted toward the thick steel door, as if willing it to shatter so he could storm out. The thought of Demon being tortured gnawed at his mind like a ravenous beast. 

None of them knew what was happening to her. The air outside their cells carried no whispers, no hints of the horrors Demon was enduring. But Zeus’s gut told him the truth—whatever it was, it was bad. 

"They’ve gone too far," he muttered, his voice sharp with suppressed rage. 

"Aren’t we going to do anything?" Venom snapped, his voice louder this time. His nerves were shot, his steps frantic as he paced relentlessly, his shadow darting across the dimly lit walls like a caged animal. 

"If there *was* something we could do, we would have done it already," Uno said firmly, his tone cold but his eyes betraying the unease he tried to hide. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching Venom spiral. "Panicking like this isn’t going to help anyone. We’re stuck, and that’s the truth." 

Venom stopped and shot Uno a glare. "You think sitting there with your arms crossed is helping?! You don’t give a damn about her, do you?" 

Uno’s jaw tightened, and for a brief moment, his stoic facade cracked. "Don’t test me, Venom," he warned, his voice dangerously low. "You think you’re the only one losing your mind here? You think I don’t want to tear this place apart and get her out of there? But we don’t even know where ‘there’ is, and if you think running blind is the answer, you’re a bigger fool than I thought." 

The tension in the cell thickened, the air almost suffocating as the two glared at each other. 

"Hey, Monteverde," Uno finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was calmer now, though the steel in his tone remained. "Do you have *any* news from outside?" 

Across the cell block, Jarvis Monteverde sat in his corner, his face obscured by shadows. His head was tilted back against the wall, and his fingers tapped against his knee—a rhythm born from restless anxiety. 

"I’m afraid I’ve got nothing," Jarvis said after a moment, his voice flat, though the weight of his words carried far deeper than they appeared. 

But in truth, Jarvis was wrestling with his own demons. He *knew* what Demon was planning—her ultimate gambit—and the weight of that knowledge was crushing him. Every logical part of him screamed to tell the others, to warn them, to unite and save her. But his heart… his heart told him otherwise. 

He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t let them know. 

"If they find out her plan…" Jarvis thought bitterly, his hand balling into a fist. His nails bit into his palm, but he didn’t care. "*If they find out she’s planning to sacrifice herself in the end, they’ll tear the entire Underground apart. They’ll lose their damn minds.*" 

He glanced at the others from the corner of his eye. Zeus was muttering angrily to himself, punching the wall in a vain attempt to vent his frustration. Venom was back to pacing, his expression a whirlwind of emotions—worry, anger, desperation. And Uno… Uno stood like a statue, his face unreadable but his tension bleeding into the room like poison. 

Demon was too important to them. *Too important to lose.* 

Jarvis’s thoughts were racing, his mind a battlefield of conflicting ideas. Save her, or let her plan unfold? Intervene, or trust that Demon—Demon, of all people—knew what she was doing? 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his jaw tightening as he tried to steady himself. "I can’t tell them," he thought again, his chest tightening with guilt. "Not yet. Not until I’m sure there’s no other way." 

The sound of Zeus’s fist slamming into the wall snapped him out of his thoughts. 

"I don’t care what it takes," Zeus growled, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. "I’ll get her out of there, even if I have to kill every last person in this goddamn place." 

Venom stopped pacing and turned to Zeus, his eyes burning with the same determination. "You’re not doing it alone." 

Uno pushed off the wall, his movements deliberate and measured. "If we’re going to do something, we need to be smart about it. Rushing in blind will get us killed. And if we die, Demon dies." 

For a moment, the three of them stood in a tense silence, their unspoken agreement hanging heavily in the air. 

Jarvis watched them, his stomach twisting into knots. He wanted to believe they could save her, but deep down, he knew the truth. Demon didn’t want to be saved.