The moon hung low, swollen and red, casting a bloody hue over the skyline. Rain had stopped hours ago, but the rooftop was still damp, reflecting the city lights like shattered glass. Jaceon stood at the edge, suit jacket fluttering in the wind, a single coffee cup in his hand.
He had barely slept since the dream.
Since the reset.
He closed his eyes and breathed in the cold night air, trying to suppress the storm inside. But rage pulsed beneath his skin, coiled like a viper, waiting for release.
The door creaked open behind him.
Jarvis stepped out, balancing a second coffee in her hand. She wore Monica's oversized hoodie and black tights, her once-wild demon hair now tamed into a curly bun. Humanity clung to her awkwardly—but not without charm.
"You look like you're about to jump," she said, handing him the coffee. "Again."
Jaceon didn't smile. He took the drink and nodded toward the ledge beside him. "Sit. We need to talk."
Jarvis slid next to him, legs dangling off the edge. "So… what's going on? You haven't called me 'out of hours' since you beat up that nightclub owner for summoning a succubus in reverse."
He didn't respond right away.
Instead, he asked, "How's it been? Life… up here?"
Jarvis blinked. "Seriously?"
He gave her a look.
She sighed. "Hard. Loud. Annoying. Mortals are fragile and confusing. I burned pasta again. I nearly cried over a shampoo commercial last week. And if Monica hadn't been patient enough to explain emotions like I'm a toddler, I'd probably be in jail."
A small smirk tugged at Jaceon's lips, but it faded fast.
"I made a deal," he said flatly. "With him. Fifty souls. That's my freedom."
Jarvis nearly dropped her coffee. "Fifty? Are you out of your infernal mind?"
"I already had nine," he murmured, looking out at the sleeping city. "But one of them… one was innocent. He said that disqualified the rest."
"Wait, what?" Jarvis sat up straight. "That's—no, that's impossible. He approved them!"
Jaceon's voice dropped. "He knew. He let me believe I was progressing, just so he could snatch it away when I got too close. It was never about the contract. It was always about control."
Silence fell between them.
Then came the crack.
Jaceon's coffee cup shattered in his hand, boiling liquid splashing onto the concrete.
"I hate him," he hissed, eyes glowing faintly red. "I hate his voice, his smirk, his games. He thinks I'll crawl. That I'll beg. But I won't. I'll hunt. I'll deliver those souls—and I'll make sure every last one of them deserves it."
Jarvis nodded slowly, brows drawn. "What do you need me to do?"
"Research," Jaceon said. "Start digging into unforgiven crimes—things left unsolved, unpunished. Cold cases. Abusers. Killers. Monsters hiding in plain sight. Bring me names. Faces. I'll do the rest."
"You're turning me into your soul-reaper secretary now?"
He finally met her eyes. "You in?"
Jarvis stared at him for a beat, then gave a sharp nod. "Of course. Everything will be okay, Master. We'll get this done."
Jaceon exhaled.
For a moment, the fire inside dimmed. Not extinguished—never that. But steadied. Contained.
As the two demons sat in silence, the city stretched before them—its sins glowing brighter than its lights.
And somewhere deep below… the Devil laughed.
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