Chapter 3: Relic and Ruin

"Well, I didn’t mean to disturb you, sorry."

I politely held up my hands in apology. If not for my water bottle, he might’ve lasted a few more hours.

But the pastor just stared at me, eyes pitch black, the corners tinged with a feverish red.

Forget it. Apologizing to a dead man is pointless.

I straightened up, flicked my blue hoodie, and strode toward the door.

But just as I reached it, the wooden door slammed shut. Suddenly, a massive force pinned me to the bed, making my head spin.

It was like being hit by a linebacker—fast, hot, and impossible to stop. Before I could react, a shadow loomed over me, pressing down. The heat radiating from his body burned through our clothes.

I couldn’t help but laugh in anger. Is this pastor in a hurry to die, daring to mess with an old fox like me?

I swung my palm, full force, but he caught my wrist and pinned it to the bed.

I scowled and kicked, but he caught my ankle precisely.

With a twist, he pressed my left leg up against his waist and stomach.

His grip was iron—like I was caught in a bear trap.

So hot.

Even through clothes, his palms scorched. My wrist, skin-to-skin, felt like it was burning.

In the dim light, his eyes glowed an unnatural red—clearly not in his right mind.

I gathered my spirit power, ready to blast him away, but a golden force spread from his pinky, instantly sealing all my power.

I froze.

That’s the relic?

This guy is Pastor Caleb?!

...

Damn, I’ve run into a real monster.

I’d slipped out of police cuffs, angry exes’ traps, even a werewolf den in ’78. But this—this was new. Panic clawed at me. I could barely think. I’d heard stories of relics burning through spirit flesh, turning nine-tailed legends into nothing but ash.

We foxes know when to yield. I immediately put on a fawning smile.

"Pastor, I’m a male fox—I really can’t help you. Why not let me go and I’ll find a nice lady for you?"

No answer. Just the sound of fabric tearing.

I felt my belt loosen.

I...

For a moment, I was speechless, then started struggling desperately.

But the more I struggled, the tighter he pressed. His sweat-soaked heat seeped over me, my angry curses dissolving into broken gasps.

Maybe it was Pastor Caleb’s effect, but a fever built up inside me, bit by bit.

I was so agitated, even my hands couldn’t hold on—restless, uncomfortable.

Caleb suddenly covered my mouth, lowered his head to my ear, and murmured, "Don’t make another sound."

Sweat from his jaw dripped onto my neck, making it itch.

I was furious, so I bit down hard on the base of his thumb.

Damn you!

A night of insanity.

When my vision cleared, Caleb was unconscious from the venom.

His head lolled against the headboard, face slack, breathing ragged. I was so mad my teeth hurt. I raised my hand, wanting to finish him off, but my arm was numb from last night—even lifting it took effort.

Not to mention, he still had the relic on him...

...Better to value my own life.

Swearing, I grabbed my clothes from the floor—only to find my nice shirt had been ripped to shreds, barely enough to cover me.

I shot Caleb a fierce glare, threw his pastor’s robe over myself, hugged my fox tail, and slipped away.

The hallway was quiet, the church bells silent. As for whether he had clothes to wear—who cares!