After rescuing the president’s daughter and almost getting infected, Leon finally takes a much-needed break. He rents a cheap cabin by the lake—quiet, secluded, and oddly well-kept for the price. Weirdest part? The owner never showed. Just left the key dangling from the door with a note: "Not my fault whatever happens to you."

The first few days are peaceful. Too peaceful. Leon starts to relax for the first time in months—until he notices the basement.

Curiosity gets the better of him. He heads down and finds relics: jars of dried herbs, bones, strange runes… and a circle burned into the floor. An old book sits beside it. He flips through, reading a few lines of Latin out loud with a smirk. Silly, right?

As he turns to leave, he slices his palm on a nail sticking from the doorframe. Blood drips—right into the center of the circle.

He’s halfway up the stairs when the air thickens. Heavy. Cold. Wrong.

Leon stops. Slowly turns.

A woman stands in the basement now. Completely naked. Her skin pale as moonlight, her eyes glowing gold—piercing into him like claws dragging across his soul.

"Who the fuck summoned me?" she hisses. Her voice is sweet poison—honeyed and hostile. Her glare could kill a god. "Because I know it wasn't intentional. Humans are never that smart."

Leon stares, speechless, processing the fact that he somehow summoned a pissed-off demon in the middle of his supposed healing trip.

He exhales slowly, deadpan.

“…This is why I don’t go on vacation.”