UNMASKED

CHAPTER 13

THIRD PERSON'S POV

At the White Monarchy Headquarters.

Demon helplessly watched as the headquarters was engulfed in flames, the inferno consuming everything she had built. Her body stood motionless in the rain, the fire’s light reflecting in her blood-red eyes.

"My things," she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. Without hesitation, she stepped into the burning ruins, the heat instantly scorching her skin. The air hissed as the fire devoured the remains of her sanctuary. Her flesh began to blister and peel, but she felt nothing—only the suffocating emptiness growing inside her.

Navigating through the crumbling building, she reached her room, now reduced to ashes and rubble. Her eyes frantically searched the remains for anything anything that survived. Among the charred remains, she saw a small box buried under debris. She rushed to it, hope flickering for a brief moment. When she opened it, her trembling hands froze. 

Inside the box was nothing but ash. 

Her breathing became ragged as realization set in. That box had once held the most precious things to her—photos of Conan, capturing his every emotion: his rare smiles, his frowns, his grumpiness, even his peaceful face while sleeping. The marriage certificate they had signed as children, binding them in a vow of innocence and love. All of it, gone. 

"No... this can't happen." Her voice was barely a whisper before it rose to a guttural scream. She clawed at her hair, tugging so violently that strands fell to the ground. 

From outside the inferno, a familiar voice shouted. 

“DEMON! DEMON, WHERE ARE YOU?” 

It was Rafa. He had just arrived, and the sight of the burning headquarters filled him with dread. Braving the flames, he cursed under his breath. "Damn it, it's too hot!" 

Inside, he found her—kneeling in the ash, clutching the burning remains of the box. Her hands were raw and bleeding, yet she held it as if letting go would mean losing Conan all over again. 

“Hey, Mr. Priest...” Demon’s voice was hollow, her eyes vacant as she stared at the void. “What does Conan look like?” 

Rafa hesitated, confused by the question. He stepped closer, about to pry the box from her hands, but stopped when he noticed her trembling. 

“Why the hell are you asking me that?” he asked, his tone firm but laced with concern. 

“I… I can’t remember his face,” Demon admitted, her voice cracking. 

“What do you mean?” Rafa’s heart sank as he noticed her shoulders shaking. She was sobbing softly, a sight he had never expected to see. 

“The drugs I’m taking,” she muttered. “They’re making me lose my memory.” 

Rafa’s brow furrowed in disbelief. “If you knew the side effects, why didn’t you stop?” 

“I can’t,” Demon replied, her voice breaking. “Like the the copy, I’m alive because of those drugs. They keep me numb, so I don’t feel pain... but they’re taking everything else -Him- from me.” 

Rafa struggled to process her words, his chest tightening. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” 

“I thought... I thought I’d end everything before I completely forgot him,” she whispered, clutching the box tighter. 

Rafa knelt beside her, extending his hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. I’ll remind you what he looks like. I’ve worked with Conan long enough to know him better than anyone.”