Chapter 24: Pure Magic and a Demonic Novel Disaster

“To think I can obtain such pure magic… Is this hell?”

The runaway soul’s power was beyond imagination, producing evil emotions that yielded magic far superior in both quantity and quality to what I’d get from forcibly extracting evil from multiple souls.

“Anyone who could resist this must be an angel. No, even an angel would fall if they got a taste of this, wouldn’t they?”

Opportunities to acquire such high-quality, abundant magic are rare. Even in magic-rich hell, the only way to get such pure magic is by converting souls into magic—a forbidden practice now. Back in the day, it was so popular among demons that hell ran short of workers, leading to its ban.

“I was going to kill it quickly and drag it to hell, but I’ve changed my mind.”

Sharing delicious food makes it tastier? Nonsense. Sharing means you don’t value what you’re eating.

As the runaway soul finished sorting the trash, I started knocking cups off the cabinet with my front paw, one by one.

Crash!

“That… damn little shit of a cat…”

As expected, she stormed into the kitchen, cursing. Teasing her, I pushed a plate off right in front of her.

Smash!

The pure magic from her anger surged into me, sending a thrilling rush through my body. Could there be anything more blissful? In hell, I toiled endlessly, absorbing and refining magic. After thousands, tens of thousands of years, getting magic this easily was pure joy.

‘This is happiness.’

Mid-thought, she grabbed my scruff, effortlessly subduing me.

“Meow.”

‘A runaway soul daring to grab an archdemon’s scruff? I’ll send you to hell right—’

“If you don’t want to go back to that cold, hungry alley, stay quietly in the crate.”

My magic was restored, but not enough to unlock the crate. Attempting vehicular homicide with my current magic was impossible. Returning to the alley would mean certain death, costing me my 99 years of vacation. With a safe source of high-quality magic at stake, I stopped resisting.

She put me in the so-called “crate” and sighed.

“Ugh, did I make a mistake deciding to keep it? What’s this chaos on the first day… And when am I going to clean all this?”

Grumbling, she began tidying the mess I’d made, and the house’s wreckage was quickly cleared. Watching her relax on the couch, savoring her accomplishment, annoyed me. I hatched a plan.

“Meow.”

“What now?”

I cautiously pointed at the formula bowl in front of the crate.

“Hungry?”

“Meow.”

“You think you deserve food after this? Even if you didn’t eat, shouldn’t you at least not make a mess like this?”

Angry, she approached, unlocked, and opened the crate. I bolted, not to the kitchen but to an open room.

“Wait, hey! Where are you going?!”

A room with a soft bed—she likely slept here. The plush bed and thick blanket were perfect for her frail body. My plan? Ruin her sleeping space to make rest uncomfortable, then absorb the resulting evil emotions.

Sure enough, she dragged her tired, sickly body after me, her already pale face growing paler at the sight of me.

“Don’t you dare… That’s off-limits. Unless you’re an actual demon, you don’t do that. Be good and come down, please? I’m begging you…”

Unless I’m an actual demon, I shouldn’t do “that”? Well, I am a demon, so it’s fine.

If she hadn’t said more, I might’ve let it slide, but she called me “good.” Calling a demon “good” is like calling an angel “evil”—pure insult. Without hesitation, I acted.

Shhh…

“No, no… My blanket… My bed… My only place of rest…”

The magic from her despair was so sweet. I could probably unlock two crates with this. Reveling in the flood of magic, I tried to slip out quietly, but the door slammed shut as I reached it.

Huh?

“Where do you think you’re going, you filthy little shit? You messed up my blanket and bed—you’re taking responsibility.”

“Meow?”

“Should I just kill this furball… or not…”

Her murderous intent sent a chill down my spine. I tried to move my magic to escape, but oddly, it was frozen, refusing to budge.

‘I’m screwed.’

If magic wouldn’t work, I tried moving my body, but this frail animal form was paralyzed by her intense killing aura, leaving me trembling in place.

She approached with a deadly glare and grabbed my scruff.

‘Goodbye, my 99 years of vacation.’

I closed my eyes, awaiting death, but she just shoved me back in the crate and said:

“Don’t even think about coming out until morning. I was an idiot for trusting you, damn it.”

‘I’m alive?’

Her body must be too weak to kill me outright.

Despite looking ready to collapse, she started cleaning again. After finishing, she slumped onto the couch, exhausted. She looked at me, seemingly deep in thought, then spoke as if realizing something.

“Come to think of it, I need to name it. What’s good?”

A name. I rarely used aliases. I spent most of my time in hell, and even with Faust, I used my real name. My only nickname is “Mephi,” so I was slightly excited about a new alias.

But this demon-worse-than-a-demon crushed my hopes.

“Chunja.”

Did I hear that wrong? What lunatic would give an archdemon such a tacky name? Convinced I misheard, I waited, but she smiled brightly, even in the dark, and asked:

“What do you think? Chunja’s pretty good, right? Nice ring to it.”

Her words reminded me of a scene in hell, where souls were forced into labor.

‘From now on, your name’s Junsik.’

‘But my name’s Siwoo…’

‘Too hard to say! Junsik, why aren’t you working?!’

The worst alias. A tacky, two-syllable “Chunja.” If that mad angel found out? I’d bite my tongue and return to hell out of shame, vacation be damned.

“From now on, your name’s Chunja.”

I wanted to claw her face with magic-infused paws for giving me that name, but one scratch might send her to heaven via blood loss, so I held back.

—

“Chunja… Ow! Stop hitting me!”

The constant “Chunja” calls made me instinctively swing my magic-infused paws. How could a human’s naming sense be so awful? The disgusting alias made me gag.

“Can’t you stop rampaging and behave? What’s wrong with Chunja? It’s unforgettable! You seemed happy with it yesterday, so why the tantrum?”

Happy with that name? I want to kill her. If she weren’t supplying pure magic, I’d have torn her apart a hundred times. Swiping at her wasn’t enough, so I looked for something to cause more pain, but nothing stood out.

Then I noticed her diligently writing. Curious, I climbed onto her lap and jumped onto the desk to check it out. I was stunned by the immense evil emanating from her writing.

‘Wouldn’t even demons shy away from this?’

A novel that’d make any demon gasp. If a fledgling demon followed it, they’d easily become a high-ranking demon. Even archdemons could learn from its vivid depiction of evil deeds. This was the runaway soul’s writing.

‘How did hell overlook such talent for over 30 years? My instincts were right.’

Beyond curiosity, the evil in the writing was so enticing that I couldn’t help but sink my teeth into it. The moment I bit, the evil vanished like cotton candy.

‘The evil’s gone in an instant?’

A mistake. I should’ve licked it first. Overwhelmed by emptiness and hunger, I quietly went to eat the prepared food. Behind me, her despair-filled voice echoed.

“Haha, just a low battery, right? Plug it in, turn it on, no problem… You damn furball…”

Her murderous voice rang out, but I ignored it and ate. Looking back would surely mean my end.

‘How does that frail body produce such killing intent? Doesn’t that usually break something?’

No clue. Maybe she’s holding it together with sheer willpower, fainting or coughing blood.

‘Well, it’s mine, so I’ll figure it out slowly.’

For now, I focused on eating.