The world felt too quiet.
Not the peaceful kind—
the kind that comes after something breaks.
Asher stood by the window, watching the city flicker like a tired screen. Neon signs glitched. Billboards refreshed without loading. The attention economy was rebooting itself.
And so was he.
"I can feel it," he said.
Lena turned. "Feel what?"
"My connection to Hell. It's… unraveling."
His skin glowed faintly, not red but pale gold, like light leaking through cracks.
"You're dying?" she whispered.
"Not exactly," he said. "I'm being… released."
Lena's throat tightened. "That doesn't sound better."
He smiled sadly. "It is for humanity. Not for me."
She stepped closer, hands trembling. "You said you'd go to Hell for this."
"I already did," he replied.
The contract burned in the air between them, its text breaking apart like corrupted code.
Lena grabbed it. "There has to be a loophole. There always is."
Asher shook his head. "This was the price of breaking the system. Hell can't own me anymore."
"Then who does?" she demanded.
He reached out, brushing his thumb across her cheek.
"No one."
Tears slipped down her face. "Was it worth it?"
He rested his forehead against hers.
"Every second."
Outside, the sun began to rise—real sunlight, not algorithmic glow.
And for the first time since he'd fallen…
Asher felt human fear.
Of losing her.