Hell's Actor-Chapter 64: Pretender’s Face

Averie blinked his glazed eyes, unable to make sense of his surroundings.

He was floating in the middle of a vast sea of murky grey liquid.

The rippling sky—that seemed to stretch forever—was bluish-pink.

The last thing he could remember was closing his groggy eyes while enjoying a video compilation of people getting hurt doing dumb stuff.

He stood up on the rippling surface of the sea and studied the mysterious place.

There were no stars, no moons, and no suns.

The greyish light filling the place was emanating from the horizon, but Averie believed it was neither sunrise nor sunset.

He tried diving under the surface, but it was futile. He floated back up before he could even submerge his ankles.

For a while, he walked on the surface, trying to cross the vast plane.

There were no buildings, no trees, and no grass. There were no stones or anything alive.

But there was a little whirlpool.

Averie kept staring at it, and the longer he stared, the harder it became to take his eyes off it.

It felt like it was beckoning him, calling for his attention.

Suddenly, Averie felt shivers all over.

He tore his gaze away from the whirlpool and turned around.

A figure stood there.

How had it snuck behind him, he did not know.

***

When Hyerin returned, Averie was fast asleep.

She turned on her laptop, opened a file containing a list of names, and added the name Min-Ha Byun to it.

These were all candidates for the position of Averie’s personal stylist.

Once Hyerin mentioned Averie’s exciting name, Min-Ha’s love for Sartre Entertainment had suddenly melted.

She did not believe it at first. But once Hyerin showed her pictures of them together, she practically begged for an opportunity to work with him.

Hyerin understood the sentiment.

Most professionals who worked with actors preferred talented and glamorous talents.

There was a certain excitement to it. Working as a personal stylist was only fun when the actor had character. Opportunities to travel abroad came often if their charges were talented.

The success of the celebrity was the success of their team.

They took pleasure in seeing them achieve big things.

Being able to dress and style an exciting actor was a fun prospect.

And in the entire country, there was no actor currently as hot as Averie.

His mysterious and sudden appearance certainly added to his charm, and many predicted a successful career in his future.

Hyerin looked troubled.

"How should I go about this?"

There were too many prospects to interview.

She looked at her careless friend.

"Maybe I should let him decide."

***

The figure in front of Averie was made of the same grey liquid that rippled beneath his feet. But the concerning bit was that it was shaped like a human being.

It took a step forward, morphing into a familiar being.

Averie’s pupils shook.

The figure had his face.

Yet, it looked slightly different.

Its hair was styled differently, and its jaw was set tight.

Its ruby eyes, as if forged in lava, raised Averie’s heartbeat.

The embodiment of lust through and through, in front of him stood Asmodeus Binsfeld.

Averie breathed out a shaky breath and clenched his fists.

"Who are you?"

Asmodeus, dressed in a white shirt and dress pants, studied the man in front of him.

"You have my face."

"No," — Averie widened his eyes, trying to put the fear of Hell in his adversary — "you have my face."

"Preposterous."

"You are not Asmodeus Binsfeld."

"Blasphemous."

Asmodeus checked his body.

"Where could it be?" he muttered.

Realizing what he was searching for, Averie leaped forward and kicked him in the sternum.

It sent a shockwave across the mysterious man’s body and sent him flying through the air a few feet.

"You unauthentic fraud," — Averie raised his fists — "Asmodeus Binsfeld does not carry a gun."

’His subordinate always hands him one when needed.’

"He is a scrupulous man; he wouldn’t carry a firearm on his person."

He jumped on top of the figure and started pummeling him.

"This. Is. For. Stealing. My. Identity."

Six punches in the face had left Averie’s knuckles bleeding, but there was no sign of pain on the face of the mysterious man.

He kicked Averie in the gut, sending him rolling to the ground. He continued stomping on the actor, making him vomit his last meals.

Averie questioned reality.

There was no way flesh and bones should hit that hard.

’Isn’t he made of this grey liquid?’ he agonized. ’What liquid hits this hard?’

The mysterious man lifted Averie by the scruff of his neck, choking the actor.

"I will have my face back," he said apathetically.

In desperation, Averie kicked him in the face about seven times. But it was a futile effort.

As the man tightened his grip, something in Averie’s chest burned.

His Peccatum tattoo ignited. Black flames traveled over his body and stung the mysterious man.

His hand on fire, he released Averie from his grasp and reeled back.

Taking his chance, Averie got behind him. He twisted the man’s arm and slammed him on the grey surface. He threw himself on the ground and held him in a stranglehold.

The flames flared and lit them both.

In the black flames, Averie looked him in the eye.

"You are just a pretender." His pupils looked unbelievably seeped in lust. "I am Asmodeus Binsfeld."

The black flames consumed the pretender whole, burning every inch of his body.

There were no screams, and there was no horror in its eyes.

It dissolved and disappeared into the grey liquid.

Averie circled the area for a minute, but it seemed to have gone for good.

’What is happening here? What is this place?’

Suddenly, the bluish-pink sky rippled, and a gigantic figure of unimaginable presence tore through its veil.

It floated down from the heavens and settled a meter above the liquid’s surface.

It had pristine white wings, a face that radiated light, and a naked sword in hand.

It observed Averie with its stone-cold eyes.

"Return to Purgatory, Sinner."

His voice was gentle, but it boomed through the air.

Averie had heard about this particular being.

He was the angel of Peter’s Gate, the guardian of Purgatory.

He was the one who controlled, protected, and allowed entrance into Purgatory.

The giant angel, with his sword pointed forward, flew towards Averie with a speed that would leave fighter jets to shame.

’Another death,’ Averie thought as the tip of the sword reached his pupil.

About to be killed in an unknown world for some unknown reason, something caught Averie’s eye.

Behind the angel was a familiar figure standing stubbornly.

Its eyes were glaring only at him.

It sent chills down Averie’s spine.

The pretender had returned, and it was holding back the angel by its wings.

"That is my face," he said. "Don’t ruin it."

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