A young Soul in an immaculate black suit dashed down a dark corridor. Eyes wide in terror, well greased hair quickly unravelling. He kept nervously glancing behind, like some terror would spring out to consume him, but there was nothing there but water pipes and bare walls.

He didn't slow down until he reached the boiler room.

Relief crossed his face for one moment (and the fool actually laughed) before his right leg suddenly froze to the spot like it was glued to the floor.

He lunged forward. Then quickly regained his balance instead of crashing to the floor. Frantically tugging on his leg which refused to budge.

"And where do you think you're going?" I asked from the steel walkway above him.

His gaze shot upwards and his mouth dropped open in horror. Eyes flickering between my bored expression, and the other four souls laughing beside me.



He began making strange choking sounds, like trying to form words, but fear made it impossible for any sound to come out.

I leapt from the railing and landed on the ground without faltering. Then slowly and steadily strolled towards him. I had worked out that a long drawn out approach was the most effective way to increase their fear.

"Somebody's been doing things they aren't supposed to," I said with a mad grin. "Haven't they, Mr. Boilerman?"

"Please," he begged like he wasn't yet broken enough to lose all sense of fear. "There must be some mistake!"

I hit him with just enough force to knock him onto his back. I stepped onto his face and held him down.

"A mistake, huh?" I laughed.

"Of course!" He cried as he struggled against my foot.

"Then it's a shame that I was told that it's you who's been attempting to undermine me. That it's you who's been disrespecting orders. And that it was you who's been holding secret meetings behind my back."

"No, no, I would never do that," he muttered into the stone floor like the spineless coward he was.

"Is that so?" I pointed to a bald toothless soul back on the railing. "Then why is it that Mr. Doorman up there seems to think otherwise? He told me that he saw you meet with the cleaning group on the roof yesterday evening. Except you weren't a cowering mess yesterday. You were….. How did you put it Mr. Doorman?"

"Shooting his mouth off about becoming king of us all," replied the toothless soul.

Mr. Boilerman stopped struggling and froze.

"I'm very hurt," I said with fake disappointment. "And after how generous I've been towards you."

"You're nothing but generous!" Mr. Boilerman angrily spat back. "You're a self-centered power hungry maniac who cares only for himself! After all my years in Hell, I've never met a soul as fucked up as you!"

His words stung more than I wanted to admit and my rage flared. Without stopping to think, I leaned down to grab his neck, but the movement was just to distract everyone from the small crystal which I dropped to the ground. It landed upon the second chalk diagram that I'd drawn on the stone, and all of a sudden magical symbols began to glow gold.

I jumped back to avoid the small explosion. It threw Mr. Boilerman into the air and set his clothing ablaze.

He landed on the ground with a thud. Face frozen in shock even though his body was fine.

"Take him away!" I barked to the souls on the walkway.

They jumped down and took a hold of his limbs. Just like the rest of us, they'd been given ridiculous names such as Mr. Dishwasher, or Ms. Chambermaid. Everyone of them twisted pieces of shit who loved watching others suffer.

There was no real love between us (some of them I even hated) and I only allowed them to stand beside me because of the power it created.

"Shove him into one of the water tanks," I ordered. "It doesn't matter if it's full or empty. Let's see if that will make him reconsider ever stepping out of line again."

"Screw you!" Boilerman screamed at me followed by a long string of profanities. "One day someone's gonna destroy you for all the crap you've inflicted on the rest of us."

"Really now. I highly doubt that," I said coldly without flinching. Making sure to look like the perfect dictator despite my unease. "Maybe an extra week in that tank will help change your mind."

I stood there and laughed like it was nothing, but as soon as they left the room, and I was finally alone, I allowed my perfect mask to crumble and I collapsed against the wall.

I was exhausted.

I never wanted to be like the ones who tormented and used me, but I knew no other way to create a barrier between myself and that world.

If I was in charge than the other souls couldn't hurt me.

If I had power over them then they could be utilized to make my work easier.

If I treated them like crap then I could offload my own problems.

It was surprisingly easier than I expected.

After suffering at the hands of Foreman and his friends, I had inevitably become an expert in mind games and mental torment. I inflicted the same pain that I'd been dealt in the past, and I found myself repeating Foreman's old lines like they were stuck on a loop which wouldn't end.

"That mortal may own you, but down here I'm your master," I would say to scared souls as they sobbed in the dark.

But no matter how hard I tried to forget my own morals and become an emotionless doll, my selfish actions ate away at me until I hated myself.

I was scum.

A corrupted waste of existence who belonged in Hell.

"He deserved it," I said in an attempt to trick myself into feeling better.

I composed myself and picked up the two crystals on the floor. One for the explosion, and the other for the freezing charm. I slipped them into my pocket and scraped my shoe against the chalk circle. Trying my best to camouflage it amongst the other grime on the stone.

The few spells I knew helped to enforce my authority.

The other souls knew nothing of magic and were easily fooled by a few party tricks. To them it seemed to appear out of nowhere, and they were far too frightened to dare challenge me.

All except Mr. Boilerman.

I could tell from the look in his eyes that he knew something was amiss. I had to crush his fighting spirit before he destroyed everything.

I opened a small door and climbed a narrow service staircase. I stopped before a wooden door, brushed down my black suit, then quietly slipped outside.

I emerged into a hotel foyer which had seen better days. The ivory white paint had started flaking from the walls, the door frames were rusted, and the crystals chandeliers which adorned a high ceiling hadn't been cleaned properly in decades.

Several souls in black suits rushed back and forth as they waited on guests.

My fellow sinners quickly looked away as soon as I entered, some even trying their best to avoid me like I was an infectious disease.

I reached out and grabbed the arm of one boy who attempted to dash away.

I pulled him towards me and watched his face contort in fear.

"What's with this wall?" I pointed to a crack as large as my hand. "I told you to repair it yesterday, yet it still looks like crap."

"B..But Mr. Fixit said-"

"I don't care what that idiot said! Is it your job to take orders from me or him?"

"Of...of course..it's you...and….and...and," he stuttered.

"And who!" I snapped. "Out with it already!"

"I trust all is well," said a voice from behind me.

I turned to see our master, and owner of the hotel.

He was a large balding man with a small moustache. Sitting in a wheelchair as two souls served him cheese and ham from silver platters. A third soul pushed him along. He refused to acknowledge that he'd grown several suit sizes over the last decade. His buttons so strained that they looked as though they would pop at any moment.

My face twisted into a pleasant smile, and all of a sudden I was the perfect soul who could be trusted to do anything.

"Of course, Sir," I said with a bow. "This one guy's been neglecting his chores, so I was just putting him in his place.

"Jolly work as always, Mr. Auditor," he coughed and took a handful of ham. "But there's no need to be so hard on the small lad. I'm sure he'll get round to it when he can."

"As you wish, Sir."

I let go of the boy's arm and he instantly fled down the hall.

My master's behaviour instantly struck me as odd. He'd never asked me to go easy on a soul before. Instead, often ordering me to punish them harder, or throwing food at them himself if they made a mistake.

"Now be a good lad Mr. Auditor and go play that piano," he coughed. "Those merry tunes of yours really do bring some life to these ancient halls."

"As you wish, Sir," I bowed. "I do only exist to serve."

I turned and walked into a lounge full of brown leather couches. There were several smoking businessmen, and elderly women wearing tacky fur scarfs. There were no demons because my master refused to let them through the door. As though their presence left a dark stain which couldn't be washed away.

I sat before a large white piano and ran my fingers over the keys once, then began to play. My hands moved on their own without having to read any music.

I only knew three songs.

That was three songs more than my fat master could play.

They were all forced into my head years earlier by a crazy old mistress who'd scream if I hit the wrong key, but they were enough to impress that self-absorbed hotel owner.

"Azazel's Men go Marching! Nice choice," smiled one old woman.

I politely bowed my head to thank her, but she obviously couldn't see well enough to know that I was a soul. Whenever elderly people began treating me kindly, it was a sure sign that their eyesight was failing.

I heard a cough, and glanced over my shoulder to see one of my rotten minions standing behind me. She was a small girl who spoke politely and seemed harmless, but she was an expert in spying and ratting out others.

"How many times have I told you not to approach me where the mortals can see," I said while keeping my eyes forward. Trying my best to pretend she wasn't there.

"I have news."

"Can't it wait?"

"You'll probably want to hear it now."

"Then out with it."

"The master met with the bank this morning. In the tearoom. This years profits… fell into the red. He's decided to sell this place back to the bank to recover his losses. That includes all of us as well."

My fingers slipped and I hit the wrong note.

I froze. Expecting to hear an onslaught of abuse, which of course didn't come.

I then composed myself and continued the song. Trying my best not to let my real emotions show through.

"Well," I said while looking around the room at the souls that I'd worked so hard to bring under my control. "I always knew that a place like this couldn't possibly last."

---

Author's Note: Thanks for reading this chapter. This begins a new part of the story where Ethan has become old and bitter. Willing to do anything it takes to avoid being mistreated again.

Summary: Daisuke Matsumoto here! I see you picked up my book. I knew you would because it's awesome, inspirational, life changing, and it's all about me!

Let’s start from the beginning. I was adopted by an old man who named me after his dead son, creepy right? He used to tell me stories of monsters who pose and animals and attack humans. I thought he made it all up to scare me, but I just met a group of exorcists who confirmed my worst fear, monsters are real! If that wasn’t enough to freak me out I discovered Grandpa was up to some shady stuff, Sis has secrets stashed away, and any hot chick could be a monster plotting to rip my insides out.

God must hate me, because I don’t know my own past, my real name, and……Akito? Hey, what’s up with the knife Akito?

Sample Chapters: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five,  Chapter Six

Grab the whole paperback or kindle book here on Amazon!