"Sheffield, I always thought with your personality, you'd still be single at thirty. Who'd have guessed you'd find a handsome guy—and a younger one—just a few years after graduating?"
Hannibal teased Claire, clearly showing their close rapport.
"Oh, come on, it's not like that!"
Claire looked a bit embarrassed.
"It's the truth! Most of your PhD classmates got married before even finishing their degrees, and here you are, only snagging a boyfriend this year."
Claire pouted.
"Isn't that because I earned my degree faster? I finished my PhD credits in four years. They took ten—if they didn't marry by then, they'd never get the chance!"
"Fair point! Sheffield, you and your friend came at the perfect time. I don't have classes this afternoon, so I can whip up a nice lunch for you both."
Hannibal shot Roy a cryptic look, making him feel uneasy.
Is this guy planning to cook us?
Claire, oblivious, lit up with excitement.
"Awesome! It's been forever since I had a meal cooked by Professor Lecter!"
Roy opened his mouth, tempted to warn Claire that dining at Lecter's might mean being the meal instead of eating one.
But then he reconsidered—his strength meant he didn't need to fear a mere human.
If Hannibal tried anything funny, Roy could easily turn him into the main course.
Still, it'd be a shame for Claire—she seemed to really admire Hannibal.
Hannibal told Claire and Roy to wait for him in the parking lot while he grabbed his things to leave.
As Roy and Claire headed to the lot, he couldn't hold back.
"Claire, have you eaten at Professor Lecter's place a lot?"
Claire shook her head.
"Nope, just once—on the day I got my PhD. Professor Lecter took a bunch of us grad students to his place for dinner. That meal was unforgettable! But for some reason, one of the seniors disappeared during dinner, and we never saw him again."
Yup, that senior was probably the main ingredient.
Roy decided he needed to warn her.
"Claire, there might be something off about your mentor."
Claire blinked, caught off guard.
"Off? What's wrong with Professor Lecter?"
---
Before Roy could explain, Hannibal approached.
"Sorry to keep you waiting! I didn't drive today—mind if I catch a ride with you?"
Claire didn't hesitate, answering for Roy.
"Of course, no problem!"
They piled into Bumblebee, with Roy driving, Claire in the passenger seat, and Hannibal in the back.
Through the rearview mirror, Roy caught Hannibal staring at the back of his head with a creepy, unsettling look.
Is this guy sizing me up as his next meal?
Roy was dumbfounded. If Hannibal dared make a move, mentor or not, Roy wouldn't hold back.
"We're here. This is my place."
Hannibal's home wasn't far from UCLA's campus—just a five-minute drive. It was a swanky apartment in a prime location.
Roy and Claire followed Hannibal inside, where the decor was understated yet luxurious, screaming refined taste.
Clearly, Hannibal had serious money.
"Make yourselves at home in the living room. I'll whip up a delicious lunch in no time."
Hannibal tied on an apron and headed to the kitchen.
His kitchen was massive, easily the largest room in the apartment, a clear sign of his passion for cooking.
Claire's face was full of anticipation, but Roy's expression was grim.
"Claire, don't eat anything yet. Wait until I give the okay."
Roy whispered another warning.
"Why, Roy?"
Claire looked at him, puzzled. She'd noticed her boyfriend acting strange ever since meeting Hannibal.
"Don't you trust me?"
Claire absolutely trusted Roy—he'd saved her more than once.
So, even without an explanation, she decided to follow his lead.
Half an hour later, the kitchen noises stopped. Hannibal wheeled out a cart with three plates, each covered by a metal cloche.
"Professor Lecter, going all out, huh?"
Those cloches were the kind you'd see in Michelin-starred restaurants. Claire hadn't gotten this treatment last time.
"Of course! We have a special guest today."
Hannibal glanced at Roy with a cryptic smile.
Roy's gut screamed something was wrong—Hannibal's eyes seemed to see right through him.
"Sheffield, Black, come to the table! Good food has a perfect moment to be enjoyed—don't miss it!"
Claire, remembering Roy's warning, glanced at him.
Roy gave a slight nod, and they sat down at the table.
Hannibal placed the three plates and lifted the cloches, releasing a cloud of steam laced with a strong grassy scent.
Roy and Claire saw a palm-sized piece of tender meat on each elegant plate, drizzled with a brown sauce, nestled on fresh greens, and garnished with vibrant cherry tomatoes.
The dish was a feast for the eyes and nose, making their mouths water.
"Today's main course: fresh veal tenderloin from the Alps. To save time, I didn't thaw the cuts. I seared them to rare with a blowtorch, then flash-cooled them with liquid nitrogen to lock in the flavor. Finally, I drizzled on my special sauce. Give it a try—it's divine!"
Hannibal's explanation of his veal-cooking method left Roy and Claire both impressed and intimidated.
But neither touched their food, just staring at the plates.
Hannibal didn't seem to mind, bringing out three bowls of creamy white soup next.
"This is a seafood chowder made with fresh octopus, mushrooms, and clams, with a touch of special seasoning."
The soup carried a crisp ocean breeze aroma, reminding Roy of being submerged in the deep sea—like that time during the Deep Freeze incident, playing games with the Kraken.
Claire swallowed hard; the smell was that good.
Hannibal then served the third dish: a striking red meat with unique marbling, one side seared golden, the other still raw.
It was coated with an amber glaze, looking absolutely stunning.
"Pan-seared bluefin tuna, my proudest creation. You've got to try it."
Three dishes per person—veal tenderloin, seafood chowder, and bluefin tuna—made for a lavish spread.
At a high-end restaurant, this meal would easily cost over a grand, drinks not included.
Hannibal sat down, smiling warmly at Roy and Claire.
"Why aren't you eating? Not to your taste?"
Roy scrutinized the dishes. The bluefin tuna seemed safest—humans don't grow fish meat.
Well, maybe Deep Ones might disagree.
The chowder was riskier. Roy hadn't seen what ingredients Hannibal used—who knew if it was really seafood?
The veal tenderloin was the biggest gamble. After being blowtorched and flash-frozen, the meat's texture was impossible to identify.
Roy couldn't tell if it was veal… or something far worse.
After a moment's thought, Roy shot Claire a look, then decided to confront Hannibal.
"Professor Lecter, I'm curious—is this veal tenderloin really from the Alps?"
Hannibal, holding his knife and fork, kept smiling.
"What, Mr. Black, think I'm exaggerating? No worries there. I take food very seriously. I personally verify the origin and quality of every ingredient—no fakes here."
Yeah, right. Probably hunted the "ingredients" yourself.
Roy locked eyes with Hannibal, slowly releasing his aura. But Hannibal seemed unfazed, his smile unwavering.
Something was off.
With Roy's current power, even a hint of his aura could terrify a grown adult.
Yet Hannibal, locked in Roy's gaze, didn't flinch—he looked relaxed.
This guy…
Roy's instincts screamed danger. He was about to pull Claire back when Hannibal lightly tapped the table with his knife and fork.
Instantly, the world seemed to freeze. Claire sat motionless, like a statue.
Only Hannibal and Roy could still move.
Roy was stunned. This level of magic wasn't something a normal person could pull off. Hannibal's power was beyond legendary.
So why was someone like this teaching at UCLA?
"Mr. Roy Black, I've heard a lot about you. Allow me to formally introduce myself. You can call me Hannibal Lecter—or Beelzebub."
(Beelzebub!)
Roy's pupils shrank. He hadn't expected Hannibal to be the Lord of Gluttony.
That meant Roy had now met all seven Demon Kings of Hell.
Beelzebub had hidden himself well. According to Claire, Hannibal had been a professor at UCLA for a decade, meaning Beelzebub arrived on Earth long before Belial.
Roy had asked Elizabeth about this. She'd said she came to Earth three years ago through a Hell portal under a waterfall.
So how did Beelzebub get here?
Three Demon Kings and an Archangel in little old Los Angeles—two of them at UCLA, no less. That's just ridiculous.
Forget calling it the City of Angels—Los Angeles might as well be the City of Hell!
Knowing Hannibal was Beelzebub changed Roy's attitude.
Of the seven Demon Kings, Roy had only not fought Lucifer and Beelzebub. He'd tangled with the other five.
He'd even sent a few back to Hell himself!
Even Belial was someone he regularly "sparred" with in bed, so facing the Lord of Gluttony didn't faze Roy.
On Earth, Beelzebub might not even be able to take him.
"So, it's the Lord of Flies. My apologies for not recognizing you."
Beelzebub, originally a god in Canaanite mythology named Baal, meaning "Lord of the Heavens."
But when God showed up, He crushed the surrounding pantheons with overwhelming force. Most gods fell in battle, but some were banished to Hell.
Baal was one of them.
Without worship to sustain him, Baal's power dwindled to that of a mere lord-level demon.
During that time, he was forced to serve under Belial, becoming the head of Solomon's Seventy-Two Pillar Demons.
That lasted until a massive upheaval in Hell.
Baal seized the opportunity, transforming his essence into a fly to claim the Sin of Gluttony, ascending to become one of the seven Demon Kings.
Though his Beelzebub form was grotesque and deeply tied to Hell, he could finally stand equal to Belial.
These details came from Elizabeth when Roy asked her about the Demon Kings' secrets.
She'd mentioned that Beelzebub, Mammon, and Asmodeus had all served under Belial before becoming Demon Kings.
Elizabeth knew a bit about the origins of the Lords of Gluttony and Greed.
But when it came to the Lord of Lust, she clammed up, refusing to say why she despised them so much.
"Mr. Black, I actually met you before."
Hannibal's smile didn't falter, like he was chatting with an old friend.
"Oh? When?"
"Back in March, when you came to Los Angeles and had a little run-in with my cult."
Roy raised an eyebrow. He hadn't expected Hannibal to bring up the Midnight Cannibal Train incident. Was he digging up old grudges?
"So, Mr. Lecter, are you looking to settle scores for your cult?"
Roy readied himself for a fight. If Hannibal said yes, he'd strike first.
"Settle scores? No, no, no! I'm not brainless like Samael. Revenge doesn't interest me. Besides, that cult wasn't even my idea—just a bunch of pathetic souls chasing their desires, hoping for my favor."
So, the Gluttony Cult's actions weren't Hannibal's orders?
Roy didn't fully buy it. Among the seven Demon Kings, only Lucifer's words held some credibility. The rest were liars when it suited them.
"Is that so? Then why did you invite me to your home?"