I Bear The Devil's Eye

Chapter Two, Titled: Second Chances

Dr. Matthew Hartford, a composed and simple middle-aged man with neatly combed hair and a suit that seemed untouched by a single crease, settled down into his leather chair within the confines of his grand office. The room exuded a timeless charm, its walls lined with shelves that seemed suffocating, brimming with ancient texts and stories.

On the polished wooden desk before him, amongst other books rested a golden stopwatch, its intricate design glinting faintly in the soft light. The hands of ths stopwatch rotated continuously in a strange, yet mesmerizing motion, defying the rules of time as if the space Matthew occupied existed outside the grasp of reality. He leaned back, the silence in the room heavy yet comforting, his gaze fixed on the stopwatch as if it held answers to questions only he dared to ask.

Dr. Hartford let out a soft, weary and exhausting sigh, his movements deliberate as he picked up the dried quill lying idly on his desk. He carefully placed it back in its holder.

His gaze shifted to the grand window that dominated the far wall of his office—a massive pane of crystal-glass that framed the endless beyond.

"What a sight, indeed," he murmured, his tone light yet tinged with a deep sadness. His expression, however, betrayed his words; his face carried a deep discouragement, the corners of his mouth tugging downward as he took off his glasses.

Before him stretched what look like the vast cosmos—a tapestry of darkness and stars, their light flickering faintly against the void. No landscapes, no bustling cities, no signs of life anywhere—just the infinite expanse of the what looked like the universe itself. It was all he had seen, day after day, a view which was both awe-inspiring and suffocating in its isolation.

Dr. Hartford inhaled deeply, letting in the fresh, calming scent of incense that filled his lungs. The aroma emanated from the small ancestral effigies scattered around the room, their faint glow complemented by the dimly lit candles carefully placed in the blind spots of the office. For a moment, the serenity enveloped him completely—a quiet reprieve from the weight of his thoughts.

But this sudden stillness lasted not too long.

The atmosphere immediately shifted, and he felt it—a sentient presence looming above him, shattering every delicate tranquility..

He quickly looked up, his sharp gaze landing on an unexpected figure now standing on the other side of his desk.

A tall female, her silhouette striking and undeniable. She was dressed in a stunning crimson body con gown that hugged her alluring curves with precision. Her face was obscured, shrouded by a silk scarf and a pair of oversized sunglasses. A matching red fedora perched on her head, with long, flowing black hair cascading down her back, contrasting against the vibrant fabric of her dress.

Her presence was otherworldly, yet grounded, her tight-fitting outfit seeming almost too deliberate, as if her very existence demanded attention.

Her body alone could make most men fall at her feet, but Dr. Matthew Hartford had a very different reaction, and it wasn't that of commitment but fear.

"Agh!" he yelped in shock, toppling off his chair, landing hard on the ground.

The lady in red didn't seem bothered by his fear, almost like she never gave the usual, 'Damn' about his wellbeing. She gave a small wave. "Hi, Matthew," she said in a soft, flirtatious tone, leaning closer to meet his eye level if he happened to stand on his feet.

Matthew quickly scrambled to his feet, his face red with anger. Clutching his chest, he struggled to catch his breath. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" he gasped, his voice shaky and strained from the sudden care.

The lady in red groaned, clearly uninterested by his complaints. "Relax, You're not even alive anymore. Don't you remember?" she said, rolling her eyes as she bent down to pick something up from the floor.

Matthew's gaze, despite himself, followed the curve of her lower back. His sharp brown eyes traced her entire figure, but he quickly reminded himself that this good looking woman was the reason he could barely breathe moments ago.

"That doesn't excuse you, at all," he said, crossing his arms and turning his gaze away from her. "I'm still human, dead or alive."

"You're absolutely right, honey," she replied smoothly, being considerate this time as she stood back up with something large in her hands—a body bag. She tossed it into the table with a thud. "And since you were a doctor during your time in earth, you should know how other humans work as well."

Matthew froze in place, his expression shifting to fear. "Wait… don't tell me that's a body bag?"

The lady in red nodded, "Seems like it is" she deliberately replied, unzipping it without hesitation. Inside was the lifeless body of Henry Adams, his face half-destroyed by a gunshot wound.

Matthew's eyes widened in shock. His mind raced as he tried to process what was before him.

Why on earth would she bring a corpse to him? He wasn't some god or immortal being capable of resurrecting the dead. He was just... him.

So why?

Henry Adams, however, was far from gone—not just physically, but in some other sense. He opened his eyes again, but the world around him was nothing like the one he had known in life. The bustling streets of Cold Harbor were replaced by endless blue skies and pristine white clouds. The cold, tarred roads were gone, replaced by a vast, reflective surface beneath his feet—a giant mirror that showed only the sky, the clouds, and his own reflection.

"Wh… What is this place?" he muttered, his voice carrying a faint change he hadn't seem to notice yet. There was no one around to answer him

Looking down now, his gaze fell on his barefeet and the white robe that seemed to have magically appeared on him out of nowhere. His reflection in the mirror caught his attention, and what he saw made him gasp in utter disbelief.

His scruffy, unkempt brown hair had turned a light, almost golden blonde. His body—once frail and malnourished—was now strong and sculpted, resembling that of a Greek god. His skin tone, size, and even the bone structure of his face had transformed, giving him an entirely new, more striking appearance.

Henry stared at himself, unable to believe what he was seeing. Everything about him had changed—everything.

What truly stunned Henry the most was the realization that his eyes were both intact. He distinctly remembered being shot in the left side of his face—the fatal wound that ended his life. Yet now, not only was his left eye back, but it was completely different.

His right eye remained its familiar brown, but his left eye had turned an ominous shade of red, glowing faintly with a strange demonic intensity that seemed to strike fear into the young man.

As Henry Adams tried to make sense of this bizarre transformation he had undergone, something even stranger happened. A red holographic screen suddenly materialized in thin air, right before his eyes. Text was displayed on it, glowing faintly.

"Huh? What's this?" he muttered, startled. Such things only happened in video games or movies, and while he'd seen plenty of them, he couldn't ignore the fact that this was happening to him—in real life. Despite his confusion, curiosity pushed him to read what was written.

[Good tiddings, Henry Adams]

Henry's eyes widened as he read the message. "That's my name. It... knows my name?" he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible in the vast emptiness around him.

Before he could gather his thoughts, the screen glitched and shifted, contorting as a new set of codes and texts appeared..

[Sorry for not giving an introduction. You can call me the Source.]

Henry stared, his mind racing. What was the Source? And what did it want with him?

Henry's eyebrows knitted together as he stared at the glowing screen. "The Source?" he murmured, his voice filled with confusion. Before he could delve deeper into his thoughts, the Source continued, not giving him time to process.

[I will lie to congratulate you on your second chance at life.]

Henry stayed silent, mulling over the words. After a moment, he asked cautiously, "You're… congratulating me?"

A flash of memory interrupted his thoughts—the face of the stranger who had killed him, a moment seared into his mind. No wonder he was being congratulated. To die and somehow live again was a miracle, even if it was an impossibility by all logical standards.

The Source, however, carried on, offering no room for explanation.

[And for your display of such bravery in the battle of life and death, Lady Velvet has granted you to me. In turn, I have granted you the Devil's Eye.]

"The Devil's Eye?" Henry echoed, his voice low. So that's what had replaced his left eye. First, he was killed by some cryptic thug. Now he was in a strange place, faced with a holographic screen that declared his fate and bestowed upon him an unsettling, glowing eye.

If things could get any stranger, Henry wasn't eager to find out how.

The screen glitched again, the text shifting and reshaping into a single question.

[So, do you accept this offer? Yes/No]