Six days passed in a blur.
Damon didn’t waste them.
Mornings belonged to Sweet Wheat Bakery.
Afternoons went to Velour with Eleanor.
The remaining hours he spent learning everything he could about Vesper.
What started as three separate opportunities was slowly becoming something more.
Every morning began at the bakery.
Before the city fully woke, he walked through the quiet streets to the warm, yeast-scented back room.
The awkwardness between him and Claire had melted away, replaced by something intoxicating.
Over those six days, she stopped treating him like a stranger who’d wandered in.
She treated him like someone who belonged.
No more hesitation when he appeared before opening.
She simply made room for him, prepared food, and let his presence become part of her routine.
For him, though, the real change was happening inside his body.
Each encounter fed his demonic essence.
Small gains, individually.
Together, they were starting to add up.
By the third day, the constant fatigue had nearly vanished.
By the sixth, real strength returned to his limbs.
He was nowhere near his former power.
But for the first time since reincarnation, his body didn’t feel like something he had to constantly compensate for.
Naturally, his mornings meant constant contact with Lily.
Lily was different.
She didn’t look at him with Claire’s softness or Eleanor’s guarded curiosity.
She challenged him.
Teased him.
Watched for cracks in his composure.
He found it entertaining.
He gave her just enough attention to keep her curious—never enough to let her think she’d figured him out.
By the sixth day, she had a habit of appearing whenever he was around.
He noticed.
He said nothing.
No reason to rush.
She couldn’t run from him anyway.
If mornings belonged to the bakery, afternoons were for Velour.
He didn’t repeat his long speech from the first day.
He didn’t need to.
Eleanor was intelligent, ambitious.
Once given direction, she executed flawlessly.
Over six days, she restructured the boutique’s high-end floor.
Three more exclusive pieces moved into the private alcove.
Sales staff shifted toward appointment-based fittings for luxury items.
External price tags disappeared from top-tier inventory.
The results weren’t miraculous.
But they were real.
The sapphire dress sold within two days.
Two other pieces that had sat untouched suddenly drew serious interest.
Private fitting requests started coming in.
More importantly, she discovered he wasn’t just lucky.
His way of seeing customers was different.
He didn’t see people walking into a boutique.
He saw what they wanted to feel when they walked out.
That difference kept her listening.
Day by day, her perception of him shifted.
The skeptical landlord who’d once threatened eviction was fading.
She still had her pride, he could see the resistance beneath it.
But she no longer looked at him as just a troublesome tenant.
When he walked in, he didn’t act like a polite advisor.
He carried an arrogant, absolute aura.
He’d critique her display arrangements, sip the espresso she poured, and speak to her not as an employee or tenant, but as a master observing his investment.
“You’re late today,” she said on the fifth afternoon, stepping out of her office as he entered.
A wine-red dress hugged her frame, hair cascading over her shoulders.
“I come when I please, Eleanor.” He settled onto the leather sofa in her office.
“How did the consultation go?”
Instead of taking offense, she laughed softly and sat across from him.
“She bought the entire set.
Six thousand dollars.
No complaints.”
She looked at him – respect, curiosity, and something unacknowledged burning in her eyes.
“You were right.
About everything.”
“I’m always right.” His demonic influence quietly magnified the admiration already forming inside her.
“Now tell me about your online distribution plans.
We need to scale this.”
She didn’t mention the twelve hundred dollars anymore.
Not because the debt was gone.
She simply no longer saw him as the pathetic tenant with empty pockets.
He’d become something harder to categorize.
A strange young man with impossible confidence, sharp instincts, and an irritating habit of being right.
Despite herself, she’d started looking forward to his visits.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
He simply had no intention of letting her realize how closely he watched her.
He was cultivating her.
Breaking down her independence brick by brick.
Preparing her for the moment her potential would yield maximum return.
On the evening of the sixth day, he returned to his apartment.
The room was still bare.
Walls still peeled.
Door still rusted.
But the atmosphere had transformed.
He walked to the small, dusty mirror above the sink and looked at his reflection.
The pale, sickly youth who’d woken here six days ago was gone.
In his place stood a young man with sharp, striking features.
Clear, dark eyes holding terrifying depth.
A tall, commanding frame.
His demonic essence flowed smoothly now, no longer restricted by a frail vessel.
He felt the subtle shift in his power, calculating his growth with precision.
Six days ago, he’d been a starving twenty-year-old with an empty apartment and a strange system.
Now his body was recovering.
Claire was deeply attached.
Lily was growing curious.
Eleanor had begun trusting his judgment.
For the first time since waking in Vesper, he felt like he’d stopped merely surviving.
He opened his eyes.
A faint smile crossed his face.
“Better.”
His fingers tightened into a fist.
The weakness was still there.
The difference was that now he could finally do something about it.
He turned from the mirror.
The first six days had been about establishing himself.
Whatever came next would be different.
He wouldn’t be reacting to the world anymore.
He would start shaping it.