Hell's Actor-Chapter 56: Your Fault

The opening sequence ended with the Prince of Lust sitting down at a garden bench, leaving enough space for someone else.

The episode continued with Policeman Butler putting down the receiver of a payphone.

Watching the rain from the shade of the booth, he puffed out a plume of smoke and tossed the cigarette in the storm.

He had just informed Lucifer about the death of Asmodeus, and his distraught façade had worked perfectly.

Mammon had instructed him to steal Toni Altobelli’s ring from the evidence room and place it in Asmodeus’s mouth to make it seem like the Altobelli family had ordered the hit.

It was a gold ring with inscriptions signifying the crime family. With such a thing present, there would not have been any second-guessing about the killers and their motives.

Revenge was a strong motivator, after all.

He had only two tasks:

Alter the crime scene.

And delay the news from reaching his brothers.

But the corrupt policeman had done the exact opposite.

He had informed Lucifer while keeping the crime scene untouched.

As Mammon’s scheme to put suspicion on the Altobelli family depended entirely on Butler, his actions had put a wedge in the trio’s plans.

Policeman Butler had betrayed Mammon. And by keeping the police force in the dark, he had also betrayed his duties.

He hadn’t told Lucifer who was behind Asmodeus’s death either. He had deemed it unnecessary after witnessing the crime scene himself.

One look at Asmodeus’s mansion was enough to assume that it was an inside job.

The killers, without the presence of false evidence, were obvious.

The policeman recalled the past few years of his life.

Asmodeus, Mammon, and Lucifer. For years, he had accepted bribes from the three of them without each other’s knowledge.

It was a miracle that he hadn’t been found and killed.

But now that Asmodeus was dead, he felt a lot more secure even though a great source of his income was no more.

He didn’t particularly hold anything against any of the brothers other than Mammon, who treated him with a lack of respect.

Yet he found himself aiding the fall of the Binsfeld family.

"Why not?" he muttered.

As he took a few steps forward, his figure disappeared into the raging rain.

The scene changed.

Left alone in Asmodeus’s room, Sarah was crying in front of his cold body.

Her purpose in life was lost, and she looked beyond broken.

What was she supposed to do now? Where was she to go?

She had nothing to love and no one to care for.

She had lost everything.

In her sorrow, she did not notice that someone was watching her from the threshold of the bedroom.

It was the young prostitute Asmodeus had saved.

"He is gone," she muttered, her eyes glazed and lifeless. "Why has he gone...?"

She had escaped from the brothel where Bella and the mistresses were keeping her safe.

She had traveled barefoot to seek some semblance of warmth.

And the last memory of it she could recall came from Asmodeus Binsfeld.

Out of desperation, she had rushed to his mansion only to find him lifeless.

"Red hair and pale skin." She touched her haphazardly painted hair. "You... You look like his Sarah."

Scared, Sarah took a step back.

The woman in front of her was underdressed. Her hair was a mess. Her eyes seemed almost hollow. And she looked like she hadn’t slept in days.

Her behavior was odd, but most unnerving of all was her speech.

The prostitute took a shaky step forward.

"Every night, he would come to me muttering about Sarah. Sarah this, Sarah that. Sarah has red hair. Sarah does not scream. Why can’t you be Sarah? You should be Sarah. You must be Sarah. You are Sarah."

A single tear fell from her dry eyes.

Her voice quivered.

"Do you even know my name?"

That question wasn’t solely directed at Sarah. It was meant for the entire audience.

She was ’the prostitute,’ ’the blonde girl Asmodeus slept with,’ and ’the one Leviathan abducted.’

Throughout Binsfeld’s Seven Princes of Hell, not once was her name mentioned.

It wasn’t so much as whispered in passing, and even the script had not given her one.

Did anyone care a little to wonder what her name was?

Did it even matter?

Should it even matter?

After all, she was nothing more than a nameless prostitute.

Yet there she was, expressing her misery and sorrow.

Did she do it as a person or as a nameless character?

And did anyone even care to wonder?

Because, in the end, she was just a nameless prostitute.

In the social hierarchy, she was an existence unfairly lower than criminals.

"My misery, his death... Everything happened because of you," she muttered in her sleep-deprived state. "It’s all your fault."

She kept muttering as she drew closer to Sarah.

"It’s all because of you. It’s all your fault."

There was no rationality in her actions, no sanity in her words.

Retreating ever so slightly, Sarah stumbled on Asmodeus’s sprawled legs and fell to the floor.

Taking her chance, the girl lunged forward.

Sitting on top of Sarah, she choked her with both hands.

In her grasp, Sarah struggled fruitlessly.

Emancipated though she was, the girl was at least a decade younger than her.

No matter how hard she tried, Sarah was not strong enough.

On the verge of losing consciousness, she grabbed the bloody crowbar lying on the floor and swung it at the girl.

Sarah wanted only to loosen her grip on her so she could escape.

Unfortunately, she was holding the crowbar short. Its sharpened claw tore into the prostitute’s throat and ripped it open.

Warm blood sprayed out like a majestic fountain.

It splattered on Asmodeus’s cold chest and Sarah’s shocked face.

The girl tried to apply pressure to her throat, but the stream of blood wouldn’t stop.

It leaked from her dry lips and spilled onto Asmodeus’s crotch.

Her breathing, obstructed by the endless amount of gushing blood, sounded like a drowning man’s desperate gurgles.

Her empty eyes turned to Sarah before the girl fell into Asmodeus’s lifeless arms.

She had found her warmth.

She was dead.

Quivering, Sarah looked around, trying to make sense of the situation.

She tried to utter something, but only unintelligible words came out.

Her husband was missing.

Her lover was dead.

And now, she had killed a young girl.

To her, life was already over.

With shaky feet, she stood up.

There was nowhere for her to go, but this room certainly did not feel welcoming anymore.

Clutching the crowbar as if her life still depended on it, Sarah Raguel walked out of the mansion that once felt like a home.

Having seen their boss’s dead body, Asmodeus’s men had left the place a while ago.

In the storm, no one was left to chase after her.

Once again, she was all alone.

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