My Anti-hero Fairy System

"No, Darren, you only get to touch her as long as she's here. Her family might come for the body tomorrow to bury her," replied the other man, who seemed to be in charge of the morgue.

Darren smirked, licking his lips. "I hope not. Just one time won't be enough for me," he said, stepping closer to Sylvester.

'What do I do?' Sylvester urgently asked Hagrit, telepathically.

[You've got two options: Keep playing dead and get violated, or wake up and force him, whichever way possible to do whatever you want.]

Sylvester's mind raced as he tried to decide. Before he could act, Darren reached out, brushing his fingers against Sylvester's face. "Bernie, I know this girl."

"You do?" Bernie asked.

Darren leaned down, gripping a handful of Sylvester's hair and sniffing it. "Yeah, I'd recognize that scent anywhere. Her name's Cara Bolton, the mayor's stepdaughter. She works–correction worked at that diner, you know, the one that serves breakfast meals till 1 pm."

"You mean Wesley's?" Bernie said.

"Yep. I've had my eye on her for a while. Seeing her here, laid out like this—cold, naked and quiet is just... perfect."

Sylvester's stomach twisted in disgust, but he forced himself to stay still, his mind frantically working on a plan.

Just as Darren was about to lean in further, Bernie intervened. "Uh uh! You know the rules. Pay up first."

"Ugh, you're such a killjoy." Darren shrugged, then pulled out his wallet and handed Bernie a stack of cash.

Bernie counted it meticulously, ignoring Darren's impatient sigh. "Seven hundred bucks; it's all there. No need to count," Darren grumbled.

"I don't trust you," Bernie replied, finishing his count. Satisfied, he pocketed the money. "Alright, I'll leave you two. Just don't leave any marks, and remember you've got one hour." With that, Bernie walked out, leaving Cara's body alone with Darren.

[What are you going to do?] Hagrit's voice prompted.

'I have an idea, just watch,' Sylvester responded mentally, determination settling over him.

Darren returned to the metal table, running his fingers through Sylvester's hair as he leaned in, sniffing and placing a kiss on his forehead. He moved his hands down, groping Sylvester's breasts, clearly savoring the warmth. "Wow! You're still so warm and soft," he murmured with a sick grin. "You know, if you were alive, a girl like you wouldn't give me a second glance."

Yeah, because you're a disgusting creep, Sylvester thought.

[You can say that again,] Hagrit chimed in.

'Wait, you can hear all my thoughts—even when I'm not directing them at you?'

[Yes, dear. But you can block me out if you need to.]

'Good to know. I might need that someday.'

Oblivious to Sylvester's inner dialogue, Darren continued, his hands roaming greedily, squeezing Sylvester's breasts. He paused only to peel off his shirt and smirk down at Sylvester's still form. "Alright, beauty queen, time to get a little closer. Time to fill you up," he sneered, lowering himself over Sylvester's body. He leaned in, his face inches from Sylvester's.

Sylvester waited until the last possible moment, then opened his eyes, locking onto Darren's startled expression before driving his knee upward with all his strength. His knee connected sharply with Darren's groin.

With a guttural scream, Darren crumpled to the cold floor, clutching himself and writhing in pain, completely blindsided by the unexpected retaliation.

Darren's groaning must have carried outside, as Bernie's voice called out from beyond the door, "Keep it down in there, man!"

[Damn, Sylvester, I didn't see that coming,] Hagrit's voice chimed in.

'Did you think I was going to let him fuck me?' Sylvester replied, still on edge.

[Well, for a moment there, yes.]

'You are funny'

Sylvester stepped off the metal table, and stood over Darren, who lay writhing in pain on the floor. Darren was a skinny, middle-aged white man with a bald head, clutching himself as he grimaced. "Hey, is this what you do? You crush on a girl and hope she dies so you can fuck her corpse?" Sylvester sneered.

Darren didn't respond, so Sylvester pressed on. "Answer me, you pathetic excuse for a man!"

"No... this is my first time," Darren managed, still doubled over. The moment the words left Darren's mouth, Sylvester knew he was lying; it was like the words themselves grated against his senses, instinctively registering as false.

Damn, this is some power, he thought, realizing he could sense lies.

[Yes it is. It's one of the two powers Cara assessed before she died.]

What's the other one? Sylvester asked, curious.

[Mind reading. Focus on him just a little bit, and you'll hear his thoughts.]

Sylvester narrowed his eyes at Darren. "You're lying. This isn't your first time, but it could be your last 'everything' if you keep this up," he warned.

Darren's face paled. "W-what do you want?"

"You know me, don't you? Do you know where I live?"

"I know who you are, but I don't know where you live," Darren stammered.

Sylvester focused, catching flashes from Darren's mind and knowing instantly that he was lying again. He lives close to the mayor's house and has seen Cara plenty of times.

"Why do you think lying is going to help you here?" Sylvester growled, grabbing an incision knife from a nearby tray.

Darren's eyes widened in terror. "Please, don't kill me," he whimpered.

"Whether you live or die is entirely up to you. Lie again and I'll make sure you regret it," Sylvester threatened, pressing the knife closer to Darren's face. "Now, let's try this again—do you know where I live?"

"Yes," Darren admitted shakily. "I live nearby. I've seen you around."

"Was that so hard? Doesn't it feel good to tell the truth?" Sylvester said, a mocking smile on his face. He didn't wait for Darren's response. "Now, here's what's going to happen, corpse fucker. You're going to get my clothes from the mortuary drawer, and you're taking me home tonight."

"How... how will I know which are your clothes?" Darren asked, pushing himself up from the floor, wincing.

Sylvester gave him a withering look. "You know my clothes. You've been watching me long enough to recognize them. And kill any thought of doing something stupid, because before you could act on it, you'd be dead. Understand?" He held the knife firmly, leaving no doubt about his intent.