(BL) I teleported again and now all demons want me!

You can curse me, I don't care

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 ass! 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.