Hellbound Hearts

3. The Rules

Compared to demon hunting, working in a bookstore is, at least physically, almost like a vacation. I've grown quite fond of this place. Though I don't pour my heart and soul into the work, I find comfort here.

The scent of old paper and freshly brewed coffee feels like a warm embrace. I love how the lighting casts a gentle glow over the room, creating subtle pockets of shadow. The shelves, overflowing with books of all shapes and sizes, are endlessly intriguing.

This place is the center of my world. It's the only home I know—a sanctuary where stress melts away. A safe place, a shelter from prying eyes.

While the call to protect the world might seem alluring, it comes with sacrifices.

You can't be born a hunter like me. But you can become one. How? You just have to die once. Easy-peasy. Then the post-mortem office, or Bardo, selects suitable candidates. I have no idea what criteria they use, but I know what happens if you pass this "interview."

You get two choices: rest in peace or get a second chance at life as a demon hunter. Sometimes I think it's utterly strange—why would anyone trade eternal rest for this madness? But I chose it, and only heaven knows why. It's one of the two unbreakable rules of the contract.

Once you become a hunter, you lose all memories of your previous life.

I only know two things about myself: my name and my age. It's ironic since I'm technically already dead. I'm twenty-four, though I only remember the last three years—my time as a hunter.

I still look like I did on my first day—perhaps more worn, but stronger, too. Time has changed Arthur and Eleonora more than me, which isn't surprising. We're all aging as humans. There's a trace of sadness when I think about Kaja. She joined us at fifteen, meaning she lost her life at that age, never to grow up like an ordinary girl.

It's a strange experience for all of us, this drastic change. It's hard to describe the feeling: waking up in your cold, dead body and realizing your life has been irreversibly altered.

Suddenly, you know things you couldn't have imagined before. You feel a strange power inside you, though it's not truly yours. It belongs to a mystical presence that now shares your body.

As you start working, you gradually learn the ins and outs of hunting. Before you know it, you've lost track of the demons you've taken down. You discover the new powers in your reborn body. Each of us has a unique gift.

Eleonora can heal any wound or injury. Kaja can sense demonic energy and see visions. Arthur has immense strength and endurance. And me? I'm supposed to summon blue fire—a mystical power strong enough to banish even the most powerful demons. Yet, no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to master it.

Besides all this, a little brainwashing or memory manipulation comes in handy. Despite these bizarre activities, we continue to live mostly human lives. Each of us has a role in the bookstore, working diligently from opening to closing.

With a sigh, I lazily wipe the countertop near the coffee machine. I look up. It's quiet here, almost eerily so. I can count the customers on one hand. It's the first day of summer, so people are out enjoying nature. They can get coffee anywhere, anytime.

It doesn't bring us much profit, but secretly, I'm relieved it's a slow day. After this morning's hunt, I'm in no mood to work myself to exhaustion.

"The bookstore was packed yesterday, and now there are only four people." Eleonora sighs, setting a tray of empty cups on the table.

"Maybe because it rained yesterday," I shrug.

She nods, her gaze drifting into the distance. 

"So be it. I think we'll close an hour early. But after work, you're fixing that damn wobbly table." she winks and walks away. "I'm going to help Kaja in the storage room."

Smiling, I watch Eleonora leave, then go back to setting out cupcakes at my own pace.

I like this little life of ours. Sure, sometimes forbidden thoughts about my life before becoming a demon hunter sneak into my mind. But I'm not alone in harboring such curiosity. It's a topic none of us dare discuss openly.

Catching myself lost in these thoughts again, I shake them off and refocus on reality. There's still work waiting for me, and overthinking only slows me down.

It's pointless. Yesterday is gone. All that matters is today and tomorrow. And today, I still have to arrange twenty glazed cupcakes on the shelf.

"Nate!"

And this additional task.