The Devil's Good Girl
Chapter 62: What a pitiful creature

Chapter 62: What a pitiful creature

"I’ll be back. It’s best for you if you do."

Jackson stopped when he reached the door, looking back at Fil. He smiled a little before he stepped out of the bedroom. As soon as he closed the door, the smile on his face disappeared without a trace. His topaz eyes glinted in red, gazing at the four people occupying the small living area.

"What a bother," he whispered, glancing at the door behind him before he waved mildly. "Can’t you see I’m busy?"

The corner of his eyes sharpened at the people in the living room. He caught a small bag that came flying in his direction.

"Your guess is right," said a man in a strange medieval formal suit seated leisurely on the long couch. "Something terrible is going on."

Jackson peeked at the bag pack, unfazed by the severed head inside. He took it out like a piece of meat, holding the severed head’s long hair. Black protruded veins, constricted eyes, and exceptionally sharp razor teeth.

A monster.

"That’s what we wanted to show you before you took off after receiving a message," said the same man in a medieval formal suit. "We have no choice but to continue this conversation in this... cramped place."

"Get out of here, Alamo." Jackson put the head back in the bag. "Can’t you see I am having a moment with my future?"

"We do not care if she is your future, your present, or even your past. This problem isn’t only ours," Alamo argued calmly. "If you want her to stay safe, I advise —"

Alamo’s last word rolled back in his throat as a soft breeze blew past him. He fluttered his eyelashes, keeping his eyes ahead of where Jackson originally stood. But now, that spot was empty.

"Are you sure you want those words to be your last?" Standing behind the couch, Jackson lowered his head as he whispered in Alamo’s ears. "Think carefully."

Alamo slid his eyes to the corner. "Quite overprotective. I haven’t even finished my statements, yet you already reeked of murderous intent."

"I hate the way it sounds," Jackson quipped, unbothered by the weapons pointing at him. "Don’t go there, my friend. Unless you want another problem that is bigger than this one."

"Apologies." Alamo smiled, facing Jackson. "If you don’t want us traveling all the way in here, do not run off just like today. Or she’d be surprised to have the entire council in this place."

"Lower your guards. He won’t kill me." Alamo stood from the couch, facing Jackson squarely. "We meant no harm. I’ll keep in touch."

Jackson rocked his head nonchalantly as if he just didn’t try to kill the man.

"Take the bag," said Alamo, while keeping his gaze on Jackson. "The owner of the house will... how do people say it nowadays? Ah. Freak out. She will freak out if she sees what’s inside the bag."

The men inside picked up the bag on the floor. As they were about to leave, Jackson caught some red stains on the floor.

"Clean this mess before you go. There were detergents under the kitchen sink," Jackson remarked. "She doesn’t have a servant to do chores for her."

"What a pitiful creature," Alamo commented in disbelief. "Should I give her one of my servants as a form of apology?"

Jackson crossed his arms as he seriously pondered about it. "I wonder if that would make her happy."

"You." Alamo also pondered before he quickly decided. He pointed at one of the men with him. "A slave might be a disrespect. So, I’m giving you to her as a gift."

"Yes, Master." The man quickly placed his hand across his chest and bowed.

"That should fix it," Alamo proudly faced Jackson. "He would clean her house and do all the house chores. She can even use him when she’s lonely at night."

The vein in Jackson’s forehead protruded. "Take that fool with you or you’ll go home with only your head."

"Was there a problem with the solution?" Alamo frowned. "You’ve truly lacked manners the older you get."

"Clean this up and leave. You better not make a noise," Jackson halted when he heard the doorknob twisting. He and everyone shifted their eyes to the bedroom door, watching it slowly creak open with bated breaths.

"Jack?" Fil peeked her head out to check what was taking Jackson so long. Deep lines appeared between her brows when she caught Jackson standing behind the couch. "What are you doing there?"

The people who were initially with Jackson were nowhere in sight. It was just Jackson, standing behind the couch. Jackson smiled back.

"I unplugged the television," he explained. "This place is a fire hazard. Better safe than sorry."

Fil chuckled weakly, shaking her head. "This place is not a fire hazard, trust me."

"Are you waiting for me, sweetheart?" he asked, tilting his head a little to the side. "That’s sweet."

Fil opened and closed her mouth, realizing what this made her look like. "It’s not that. I was just worried! I’m going back to sleep!" she turned around in a hurry, leaving the door open as she sprinted back to bed.

Watching her flee, Jackson chuckled.

’I didn’t expect that,’ he thought, convinced Fil would try to go back to sleep before he would even come back. As Jackson followed her, he stopped after a step. He turned his head on the couch, his smile disappearing.

’That fool...’Jackson mentally hissed. ’He purposely left the bag.’

Jackson snapped his eyes at the bedroom and then at the bag on the couch. If this wasn’t Fil’s place, he could just leave it for tomorrow. After all, he still needed to study the head. But if she saw this, she would faint before he could even say a word.

"What a headache." He scratched his temple, walking back to the kitchen where he left his phone.

"It’s me," he spoke quietly through the phone. "There’s an unwanted package in where I am. Clean it without waking up a soul."

Unlike what he told her, Jackson went on to unlock the main door and even the windows. He only joined Fil in the bedroom once he was certain everything was left open.

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