Everyone returned from the Lust Ring carrying an amount of bags that would have worried a logistics manager.
Boxes stacked on boxes.
Glittering packaging.
Too much leather.
Too many accessories.
Absolutely zero restraint.
Bee bought anything that looked edible, sparkly, or loud.Loona hoarded leather outfits like they were survival supplies.Octavia collected rare star-themed trinkets with reverent care.Charlie insisted everyone take at least one souvenir "for the memory."
By the time they reached the hotel, it was well past midnight.
One by one the girls disappeared into their rooms, laughing, exhausted, buzzing with leftover excitement.
Doors clicked shut.
Hallways fell quiet.
Except Max didn't sleep.
He lay on his back staring at the ceiling, rings warm against his fingers, mind racing far faster than his body wanted to.
After a few minutes, he groaned and sat up.
"Alright," he muttered.
A notebook slid into his lap.
He flipped it open.
"Overlord meeting tomorrow," he murmured as he wrote. "Establish credibility. Intimidate idiots. Don't start a war."
Flip.
"Stars of Astaroth in a few days."
Flip.
"Hotel timeline still stuck at episode two events. Fantastic. Parallel continuity juggling. Love that."
He dragged a hand down his face.
"Maybe I should cook."
He paused.
Actually considered it.
"Hell food is garbage," he decided. "Everything's stale, poisonous, or made by someone who thinks grease is seasoning. Human ingredients. Real ingredients."
He circled the idea three times.
"And extra for Bee," he added. "Double portion. Minimum."
He chuckled quietly.
Then vanished.
Morning
The smell hit the hallway like a blessing.
Warm butter.
Fresh bread.
Real bacon.
Sunlit citrus.
For a moment, Hell felt peaceful.
Charlie was the first to stumble out of her room, wrapped in fuzzy pajamas, hair a mess.
She sniffed the air.
"…That's butter," she whispered. "Real butter. That doesn't exist here…"
Vaggie followed, wing crooked, eyes half-open.
"Who's cooking?"
They rounded the corner.
And froze.
Max stood at the stove in an apron that read Kiss the Wolf.
He flipped something on the skillet with smooth, practiced motion. The counter behind him looked like a human breakfast commercial:
Perfect sandwichesFluffy scrambled eggsCrisp baconMelting cheeseButtered toastSausagesOmeletsGolden hash brownsOrange slicesA pitcher of glowing orange juice
Charlie gasped.
Vaggie's jaw dropped.
"I didn't expect you to cook," Vaggie admitted, sitting slowly.
Max turned and smiled.
Plates appeared in front of them like magic.
Because it was.
Charlie took a bite.
Made a sound that should not be made at breakfast.
"Max," she breathed. "This is perfect. Where did you even get this?"
"Human realm," Max said casually. "Took hours to find the good stuff. Worth it."
Charlie froze mid-chew.
"…You paid for it. Right?"
Max poured juice.
"Of course," he said. "My old bank account's still active. Oh—also found my body."
Charlie choked.
"WHAT?!"
Max shrugged.
"Humans fed it to wolves. Explains a lot about my form."
Vaggie stared.
"Max," she said slowly, "sinners aren't supposed to interfere with their old life."
"I bought groceries," he replied. "I didn't start a haunting."
Charlie exhaled shakily.
The tension dissolved.
Breakfast resumed.
Max savored the moment.
The quiet.
The warmth.
The normalcy.
Rare in Hell.
"So," Charlie asked, "plans?"
"Loona date," Max said. "Overdue. Then hotel renovations. Maybe convince Bee and Loona to move in. Octavia too, if she wants."
Charlie lit up.
"Yes! We have space! Oh we need to rearrange rooms—"
She kissed both of them and ran off at full speed.
Vaggie watched her disappear.
Then looked at Max.
"So," she said. "What did you want to talk about?"
Max gathered dishes slowly.
"Your angel status."
She froze.
"…I don't know what you mean."
He gave her a look.
"Vaggie."
Silence.
"You look like you could've been an exterminator," he added gently. "And I'd still love you."
The plate in her hands trembled.
"How do you know?" she whispered. "Charlie doesn't."
Max tapped the counter.
A massive book appeared.
Ancient.
Alive.
"Hells' Registry," he said. "I don't use it often."
Vaggie stared at it.
Fear and curiosity tangled together.
"…So what now?"
Max closed the book.
"I want to help," he said softly. "Only if you want it."
Her voice hardened defensively.
"What's the cost?"
"There isn't one," he said. "We're engaged. I don't charge family."
He stepped closer.
"I can give back your eye. Your wings. Your halo. I can undo what they took."
The cup in his hand shattered.
"And Adam and Lute will pay," he added quietly.
Vaggie's breath hitched.
"Why wouldn't I want that?"
"Because Charlie would know," Max said. "And you're not ready for that conversation."
She looked down.
"…You're right."
Max lifted her chin gently.
"Vaggie," he said, voice warm, "we love you exactly as you are."
He kissed her.
Soft.
Slow.
Unexpected.
She exhaled when they separated.
"Go check on Charlie," he murmured. "She's already redecorating in her head."
Vaggie smirked, ruffled his hair, and left.
Max leaned against the counter.
Smiling.
"Breakfast with loved ones," he muttered. "Overlord politics. Angel secrets. Yeah… today's gonna be insane."