Eric reached the pinnacle of his life. All the efforts climbing up the ladder brought him to this point of success and it was worth it.

Like a mafia boss who had attained notorious fame and spread fear, he terrorised his authors yet he was still the most acclaimed, famous and successful editor of all times.

Not even the most popular authors could throw him off the top spot he proudly claimed as his.

Eric had everything, he was rich, he was young and unbelievably craved by all the women in the world.

Charismatic, handsome and kind were words that hung like clouds over his head. Not a single bad word was written about him in the media and the press fought to write the most flattering articles about him.

If there was a person in this world who was the literal depiction of a saint, the whole world would point at Eric.

If the devil came to claim the most loved person in the world, every human would throw themselves in front of Eric and gladly offer their soul to the devil in hopes to let this pure soul of Eric's stay untainted and undevoured.

Indeed, everyone would. Everyone that didn't know Eric personally.

There were always exceptions. Each coin had two sides just like how Eric had two faces.

A tyrant, a bastard and a scum were words that circled him like a devious chant to curse him and every now and then, random voodoo dolls hung in obvious parts of the office.

Just like Eric was loved by everyone in the world outside his office, he was immensely hated inside his office.

Every author he was in charge of, loathed him with a passion. The fact that it was thanks to him they all became successful didn't matter it the face of their dignity sullied and their humanity trampled on, questioned if they even were seen as living human beings.

While Eric sat like an arrogant CEO in his office, he enjoyed the beautiful view of the large window in front of him. The sun was going down, dying Eric in a blood orange shine. Eric wasn't a successful editor for nothing. He was a hard worker who deserved to be the top editor.

"What a great view," Eric toasted to the window with his wine glass and twirled it in his hand before gulping it down.

What a delicious taste. The whole sonata of his anguished authors made him smile. Ah yes, the suffering of the authors was pure ecstasy to him.

Eric himself didn't know why he hated authors so much. Maybe because something bad happened in his past life but Eric didn't believe in this bogus hogus.

All he cared about was to see those trash authors suffer even more. Their stories only became famous and popular because of him. Eric had the perfect talent and skill, the nose to know what made a great story. The public knew it and the authors bitterly knew it too.

"Wonderful," trashing the authors in his mind exhilarated him and Eric always had the habit to mumble to himself like an evil mastermind.

Knock. Knock. A knock on the door appeared.

"Come in," Eric haughty turned on his chair and put the wine glass down on his large ebony table. His office was sleek black and a few plants stood at the walls.

The door opened and a tall woman in a tight pencil skirt came in. Her pretty face was framed by her blonde hair and her hour-glass body was particularly eye-catching. She was the hot assistant every successful businessman had to have.

"Boss, you have the event tonight. Do you want me to call the car now?"

"Ah, I'm too popular," Eric sighed as if he was truly pained about that. His assistant remained motionless but inside she spit incessant cusses and slurs.

If it wasn't for the good pay and Eric's handsome face, she would've long thrown this job away, thrown herself at him and gotten a one-night stand and then run off to live on an island.

"It's really a problem, boss."

"Well," Eric sighed, "Cancel it. I still got my stuff to do."

"Of course, boss," the assistant left.

Eric still had several revisions to go through and he couldn't miss out on the opportunities to tear his authors down.

An hour passed and another knock appeared. Was it his assistant again?

"I'm really too popular," Eric was as delusional as always, "Come in."

But instead of his hot assistant, it was a young male with messy short black hair and a quite handsome face. His cheeks were red and he looked nervous enough to let the envelope he held slip.

Where did this clown come from? But Eric gave the young male a beautiful smile and the male's eyes slightly shook. Yes, be amazed by my beauty.

Eric already knew what this guy wanted. It was obvious and Eric would play it like always, be the perfect angel the public made him out to be before he viciously tore them down and shut them down forever.

Yes, this newbie was an author. Fresh blood to prey on.

"Hello there," Eric motioned the anxious male to take a seat, "Would you like some water?"

"Y-Yes please," the male slowly nodded.

Eric poured him some water, "Are you here to hand in a manuscript?"

"Y-Yes! Are you ok with that?"

"Ok with that?

Eric slightly raised his eyebrow. This fellow didn't come through her assistant? Then how the hell did he get in? This building was properly watched by tight security.

On top of that, Eric's office was on the bloody 60th floor, so how the hell did this guy make it past the security? However, Eric didn't bother with the details and instead focused on his act, "Of course, I'd love to."

"Here it is!" the male's hands were trembling so much that Eric literally felt it just by touching the envelope.

"Then let's get started," Eric opened the envelope and read the first page. Trash Trash Trash.

Cliché. Already written before. Already seen a 100 times.

Eric had some hopes for this guy seeing how he just dared to march in but instead a load of shit farted right into his face. Eric sighed and then the angel made way for the demon.

"Lemme put it bluntly," even Eric's warm and amicable tone and way of talking changed to a mocking and crude one, "It's straight up shit. If I gotta use an analogy, it'd be shitting gold compared to shitting diarrhoea, you know what you are?"

"W-What?" the male was visibly confused.

"Boy, all authors are shit. Thus they can only shit. The difference is in what they shit out. By best, they can be milked by shitting, ok? Some gold bars, that's where the vulnerable poopers known as authors become famous. Then there are the diarrhoea shitters like you, polluting the brilliant bathroom and clean toilet bowl the writing stands for, thinking their stinky diarrhoea is fairy dust. Get yourself a life and fuck off."

Eric gulped down the wine and his sharp eyes mocked the male who was flustered then offended. Eric said such vulgar words with such a casual tone. It was a stark contrast to his handsome appearance.

"I...see," the male tried to compose himself and stretched out his hands, "Can I get my manuscript back?"

"This shit?" Eric thought for a while before grinning, flashing his brilliant white teeth, "I'm in a bad mood thanks to reading your trash. This'll make me feel better."

Eric ripped all hopes of the author into tiny shreds. The white scraps of paper floated in the air before the male who had red eyes now. Yes, this was what Eric wanted to see. The authors humiliated.

"You didn't have to go so far, you... you bastard!" all the respect and admiration the guy had for Eric vanished, "Just you wait! I'll curse you! I curse you in the name of the son of the Demon Lord! You'll be cursed!"

"Boohoo, I'm so scared," Eric yawned and picked up his phone to call his assistant, "Got another case here. Take care of it. Don't let the public figure out."

The proud Eric would soon realise what blatant mistake he did. His fate was sealed.

Hello, thanks for checking it out. For anyone who hasn't read my previous book 'Shameless transmigration', you should know that this comedy and humour will whip you off your chair and make you drown a few litres of tea so you can send yourself minutely to the toilet in order to read this.

In other words, be prepared for bs wannabe comedy with some handsome demons. lol, have fun reading!

The next day, Eric went back to his office after having weird nightmares, his eyes literally almost popped out. What was this? Was Eric dreaming again? This old editor couldn't take such jokes anymore. Although Eric was only 25.

Eric knew he wasn't well-liked by his authors but this just seemed to top it all. Yesterday evening's theatre with the wannabe author resurfaced. Eric was well into a good story but the wannabe author claiming to be the son of the Demon Lord was just absurd.

Bad story. Next! What a chunni guy. Eric wanted to have nothing to do with him. Although Eric was cursed, he felt better after watching how two bodyguards had to literally drag out that trash author.

Ah yes, seeing how the authors suffered was the best. If he was a character in a novel, that would be his character setting. Well, it probably wouldn't do well, seeing what a scum he was.

"What the hell is this?" Eric grabbed his assistant who came here to greet him.

"Well that boss, sorry you have to see this. We'll instantly get rid of them!" the assistant hurried away and pulled out her phone.

Countless voodoo dolls were pinned everywhere and they all had his name on them.

"I mean I'm long used to it but this is on another level," Eric applauded the authors who scurried around the office and sent him glares. The few authors Eric acknowledged all lived in the building and had to come to the office to work like a normal office worker.

Eric was impressed. Usually, he saw 3 or 4 voodoo dolls every day but right now there were at least 100 of them. Eric shrugged it off and walked to his office.

As long as his office was unharmed it was fine

"But man these authors are going wild, just because I abused and milked them a bit too much, they're trying to curse me," Eric sighed as the door opened.

"Boss you have a photoshoot scheduled for this afternoon," his assistant appeared again.

"Ah, that's right I'm too popular," Eric ran his hand through his shiny black hair.

This narcissistic ***! His assistant secretly rolled her eyes.

"Cancel it."

"What?" his assistant's eyes rolled out.

"You heard me. Cancel it. Can't be bothered,'' Eric waved his hot assistant away who was more than confused.

This narcissistic piece of shit! The assistant cursed and left. Eric was so handsome, all the companies wanted him as their face. One photoshoot after another was thrown at him, acting jobs, CFs and many more.

If Eric felt like it he accepted them. If not, he just used an excuse with his multi-million face and said something along the lines of 'Being an editor is hard. I have to take care of my precious, hard-working authors!'

Every time said authors heard him bullshit, they spit out the fingernails they chewed on and swallowed, wanting to rip his skin open and tear out that scummy two-faced's blood running through his veins.

But they couldn't. They were legally bound to him because of a few papers. Damn devil contract! Go and make out with the devil you bloodied piece of asswipe!

The computer showed 40 new messages which meant 40 new drafts for Eric to go through. Did this mean Eric had 40 authors under his belt? No.

Did this mean there weren't other editors? No. Eric's company had many editors on the other floors.

So where did these 40 drafts come from? Simple.

Eric opened them and saw the all-familiar 30 drafts titled 'Death of Editor Eric- Revised version 98'

'Cursing a certain editor named Eric- Revised version 666'

'Scum Eric- Draft 1'

'Scum Eric- Draft 2'

'Die Eric- Resubmitted draft because last one got rejected.'

Eric wasn't in the least bit angry about these. On the contrary, he was more than thrilled to receive them. Why?

Because Eric was the lowest of the lowest scum in hell. Reading these drafts, Eric bathed in all the suffering of his authors put into words.

It was the best feeling for Eric, something that even excelled skin to skin contact. Eric was an S, or was he an M? He enjoyed his authors hating him and enjoyed making them hate him.

When Eric was born, he must have been dropped a bit too many times on the head, more like 10001 times yet Eric still genuinely read those drafts and even sent back feedback and notes on how to improve.

Eric was hardcore. Not even the most hard-boiled and manly men could be this hard-boiled. Not even those that have been shot 47 times, while protecting a harem of females and magically survived, could be this hardcore. All the other men should feel emasculated by Eric.

This was right. Eric was the true apex predator in the food chain. Screw those alpha males who single-handedly overturned worlds. This wasn't their story.

When Eric looked up from his computer, it was already night again.

"Are you there?" Eric spoke into his phone but his assistant had long gone home. He stood up to pee. The moment he walked out of his office, the eye-blinding sight of the voodoo dolls hit him hard.

"They still didn't take these down?" Eric scoffed. A while later, he came back from the toilet and somehow had to rub his eyes.

The empty office in front of him was filled with these ominous dolls but Eric swore they suddenly doubled in size!

Throwing off the weird feeling these creepy eyes gave him, Eric walked into this office. Only one glance and the top apex predator Eric was, was immediately emasculated.

The unbelievably godly charming male sitting on Eric's chair was literally carved out of gold and diamonds. His body was the perfect golden ratio.

Eric was straight but his eyes feasted on the enticing male in front of him a bit before BANG. Eric closed the door.

BOOM BOOM BOOM

Eric's heartbeat exploded as the door behind him opened. Eric just wanted to pee, finish his work and come back. Who knew such a godly male would await him? Did his assistant call a hooker for Eric?

Did Eric, in his work craze, call him himself? Where the hell did this guy appear from?

"I'm the Demon Lord."

Literally from hell! Ok, ok, handsome Demon Lord, I get it! I get it! No need to say more!

"Is that so?" Eric calmed down and then with an angelic smile turned to the true alpha male who narrowed his enchanting phoenix eyes. They were as sharp as eagles, as deep as the ocean and as dark as an abyss.

The black hair of the self-proclaimed Demon Lord perfectly framed his carved out of marble face and showed his broad shoulders. Eric let his view wander down- and long legs and muscular arms.

The Demon Lord wore a purple robe that hugged his body at the right parts.

"You catch on quick, mortal," his voice was deep and serene and could make any woman instantly wet.

Good thing Eric was a male and his thing wouldn't stand up so easily, especially not for a male. Haha.

"Thank you," Eric's smile was captivating and charming yet inside Eric scoffed. This madman actor was really into his demon lord role, huh? Is that what they call method acting? Damn handsome lunatic.

"What brings the Demon Lord here?" Eric decided to apply along. If this male was the Demon Lord then Eric was an angel. A demon and an angel- devilishly enticing and beautifully addicting- both the themes clashed yet the truth was that the deceiving angel was also a demon -insanely dangerous yet even more so tempting.

"Nol has complained about your attitude. As a punishment I will take you," the Demon Lord slowly approached Eric, his eyes never letting him off. The Demon Lord's long and slender fingers glided over the table and would probably feel extremely soft caressing someone.

But Eric had no time for such thoughts. Instead, his mind flickered back to that wannabe author, cursing him. Alright, it was the clown's doing. He hired this actor as a payback. Ok, Eric understood.

"I see, my apologies," Eric's smile grew wider. There was only one option on how to deal with this crazy lunatic in this situation and it was to-

RUN! Run the hell away! Who the fuck in his right mind would carry on with this shitty play?

Not even the golden strawberry would want to award this as the worst scene out of all times! Why?

Because it was lower and worse than the worst! Absolutely true trash right here!

Like the wind, Eric bolted out of the room and relentlessly tapped the lift's button, leaving the perplexed Demon Lord behind.

Bing.

Sweat ran down Eric's forehead as finally, the door opened. Eric wasn't sporty. He looked like he had a well-exercised body but the truth was Eric didn't do the slightest bit of sports. It was all genes!

With his last bit of strength, Eric pressed the UG button. Even if the Demon Lord saw him going down, by the time the lift came back up and the Demon Lord arrived, Eric was long gone. Of course, the Demon Lord could use the stairs, but who in his right mind would?

Confident, Eric watched himself in the mirror and straightened his shirt and messy hair. He breathed a sigh of relief as he finally set foot into the underground garage.

Relaxed, Eric looked around and found his Porsche. The matt black one was sitting like charcoal in this white marbled parking space. Luckily, Eric always kept his car key in his pocket for emergencies.

He always had to escape paparazzi, agencies wanting to scout him or fangirls. Thus he always prepared for situations like this. Eric was just on his way to find his car when he suddenly heard footsteps behind him.

"How?" Eric froze on the spot.

"Indeed. There's no way, a puny mortal like you can escape me," this deep and sultry voice... How in the world was the Demon Lord able to catch up to Eric so quickly?

"Now, let's not waste time. Come here," the footsteps got closer.

"Hell no!" Eric shouted and once again his feet carried him away. It couldn't be. It really couldn't be that he was cursed! What in the world did he do to deserve such a fate?

Was it when he threw his authors into a lake to see if they could make it out and then write about their experience, or because he enjoyed their despair and dared newbies to walk to the next country and some were really stupid to fall for it, or because he once, just once, farted on someone's face?

As Eric ran for his life, his life literally flashed before his eyes yet for some reason, they were all quite nasty incidents. Hey, where were the cool and nice moments of his? Wait, there weren't any!

In his nervous and anxious run, almost falling here and there, Eric managed to find his car. He pressed his key and his car opened with a beep. Eric quickly jumped in seeing the handsome deathbringer approaching.

With his trembling fingers, Eric put the key in and started the car. He rolled down the window and said, "Scram now, Demon Lord!"

Yet the handsome male only approached Eric's car, "Well don't blame me!"

Eric put his sunglasses on and stepped on the gas.

WOOSH! The car sped out of the parking space and BAM BOOM drove over the Demon Lord.

"Later loser!" Eric waved out of the window. Yep, Eric really drove over the Demon Lord.

Angered that he was plastered to the ground, the Demon Lord staggered back to his feet. Eric almost coughed blood. What the fuck?

From the rear mirror, he saw the uninjured Demon Lord.

Fuck.

Was Eric's only word as the Demon Lord snapped his finger and Eric disappeared from the driver seat. His expensive Porsche crashed against a wall.