Max had spent the entire morning helping around the hotel.
Loose boards were nailed back into place. Crooked fixtures straightened. He carefully realigned the lobby chandelier Alastor had "playfully improved," undoing at least half the unnecessary theatrics.
The hotel still looked chaotic.
But now it looked intentionally chaotic.
He stepped back and surveyed the lobby.
The lighting was warmer. The colors matched. The furniture didn't look like it was trying to eat guests anymore.
"Not bad," Max muttered, wiping dust from his hands. "If I keep this up, maybe this place will look less 'Haunted New Orleans' and more 'Cozy Chaotic Salvation.'"
He lifted a painting to rehang it.
The thought slipped out before he could stop it.
"Actually… I don't even know if I can go to Heaven."
"Of course you can," a cheerful voice said right behind him.
Max nearly dropped the painting.
"Wha— Charlie?! When did you—?"
Charlie stood there smiling, hands tucked behind her back like she'd been there the entire time.
"We're just missing one thing," she said brightly.
Max carefully rehung the painting.
"Right. Right. Speaking of… any word from your father? I thought you were going to ask him about arranging a meeting in Heaven."
Charlie blinked.
She and Vaggie had only discussed that privately.
Quietly.
Behind a locked door.
Max raised both hands defensively.
"Don't worry. I wasn't listening in. I'm not stalking you two. I just connect dots. You want Heaven to acknowledge your project. The Exterminations threaten the hotel. Your father still has angelic ties."
Charlie sighed, half impressed.
"You really are sharp, Max."
"Well, I try," he said with a small grin, straightening Husk's bar corner so it blended with the lobby instead of fighting it. "So? Any luck?"
Her arms drooped slightly.
"No. Dad's… avoiding the topic."
"Heard that's one of his talents," Max teased gently.
Charlie giggled.
Then she tilted her head.
"So… how was Earth? Still better than Hell?"
Max snorted.
"Not as good as I remember. I was only there on a mission, but honestly? Not much good there anymore. Hell's better."
Her eyebrows rose.
"Really?"
"Yeah." He wiped down a dusty shelf while Niffty zipped past in a cleaning blur. "Here, everyone's brutally honest. Sinners can't hide what they are. You know what to expect from people."
Charlie nodded slowly.
"You know… you never talk about your former life."
She stepped closer and poked one of his wolf ears.
"There has to be a reason you have these cute things."
The ear twitched on instinct.
His tail betrayed him completely, thumping once.
Max coughed.
"I'm not proud of it," he admitted quietly. "I preyed on misfortune. Sold people promises of a better life. Got rich off desperation. Influential. Untouchable."
His voice dimmed.
"And then my conscience woke up. Right before someone killed me."
Charlie's expression softened immediately.
"Maybe helping you redeem others might help redeem me," he continued. "But I'm not sure I want that. I have you. Vaggie. Loona. Bee. Octavia… everyone. I never thought I'd find love in Hell. Much less this much of it."
Charlie stepped in and kissed his cheek.
Soft.
Warm.
"Then you're the one person I don't want redeemed," she said gently.
Max grinned.
"So I can sleep with you and Vaggie tonight?"
She burst into laughter.
"Nice try!"
She floated backward, still giggling, and disappeared down the hallway.
Max watched her go, warmth lingering in his chest.
He finished the last corner of the lobby and headed to his room.
"Alright," he sighed. "Let's see… Beelzebub."
A swirling void of purple smoke spiraled open in the center of the room.
A metaphysical skill window flickered into existence.
"He really gave me this," Max muttered, scrolling. "Unbelievable. And angelic abilities too… Raphael… Uriel… not that I need either right now. What's practical?"
Invocation after invocation scrolled past.
World-ending spells.
Conceptual erasure.
Things that had no business existing on a casual afternoon.
"Ugh. Everything's overkill," he groaned.
The window dissolved.
He checked his phone.
Messages flooded the screen.
Loona complaining about Blitz yelling.
Octavia: you okay?
Charlie sending a selfie with a heart.
Vaggie: drink water or I stab u
Bee sending a photo of a massive party platter labeled FOR MAX ONLY.
He answered them all, smiling.
"Oh. Right," he said. "I promised I'd visit Octavia. Poor girl's probably hiding from another screaming match."
The shadows behind him rippled.
Alastor stepped out of the wall like a broadcast cutting into reality.
Radio static hissed.
"My, my," he crooned. "Struggling to keep your girls in line, little secret overlord?"
Max didn't turn.
"I'm guessing you saw me teleport."
"Oh, I saw far more than that," Alastor said lightly. "Tell me… who did you sell your soul to for such power? A few years in Hell and already this strong? Quite impressive. Who owns you?"
Max finally faced him.
"I'm not telling you. And I don't need a reason."
Alastor's grin sharpened.
"Then let's make a deal," he said, extending a hand. "Tell me who holds your contract… and I won't tell Charlie her man belongs to someone else."
Max took his hand.
Nothing happened.
Alastor's smile faltered.
Max whispered one word.
"Amaterasu."
White fire ignited in a perfect ring around them.
It didn't burn the room.
It burned possibility.
Shadows evaporated instantly. Every exit Alastor could slip through vanished under the light.
Max stepped forward, eyes glowing faintly.
"These flames strip away shadows," he said calmly. "You have nowhere to run."
Alastor's grin twitched.
Static crackled violently.
Then he vanished — forcibly expelled from the space.
The fire faded.
Max stared at the embers.
"…Strange," he murmured. "I wasn't supposed to have that one."
He rubbed his chin.
"He said demonic and angelic skills… maybe he just added everything for fun. Most ultimate abilities are useless day-to-day anyway."
He grabbed his coat.
"Alright, Octavia," he said softly.
"Let's go see the stars."