No idea how Hannibal did it, but the octopus tentacle practically melted in Roy's mouth, unleashing a flavor explosion that was impossible to describe. For a moment, Roy was completely lost in it.
If this were some food-centric world, Roy would probably be bursting out of his clothes from how good it tasted.
"Roy, how's it taste?" Claire asked, noticing the parade of expressions on his face.
Snapping back to reality, Roy answered, "I can't even describe it, but it's insanely delicious!"
Claire hesitated, eyeing the tentacle's Lovecraftian appearance with suspicion. But Roy's words got the better of her, and she cut off a small piece to try.
Her eyes lit up instantly, a blissful look spreading across her face. Hannibal's cooking had clearly blown her away too.
"Oh my gosh, how is this so good?"
The taste was one thing, but after eating a piece of the tentacle, Roy felt a noticeable fullness in his stomach—something he didn't get from other foods.
So, he kept going. In just a few minutes, he polished off the entire tentacle, letting out an ungraceful burp.
It was like the Second Brother in Journey to the West scarfing down a ginseng fruit—gone before he could fully savor it.
Claire, meanwhile, was still delicately nibbling, savoring every bit of the Hell King's culinary masterpiece.
Roy rarely felt this stuffed. As his physique stats grew stronger, meals took longer to satisfy him, and the energy he burned while eating always left him just shy of full.
But today, a single tentacle—about the size of an adult's arm—had done the trick.
Even more shocking? A system notification popped up.
[Consumed mysterious substance. Physique attribute +3!]
Hannibal's food could boost attributes?
For a second, Roy entertained the idea of kidnapping Hannibal to be his personal chef… but that was a pipe dream. Hannibal was the King of Gluttony—no way he'd submit to anyone.
Shaking his head, Roy moved on to dessert.
The little cake was pure sweetness, like falling head over heels in love. It was a full-body cleanse for his soul.
Claire, with her smaller appetite, couldn't finish her tentacle and pushed the rest to Roy, focusing on the cake instead.
The cake was even more addictive for her, but she was too full to continue and reluctantly passed it to Roy.
"You like this stuff?" he asked.
Claire nodded.
"I can save it for you. Eat it when you're hungry later."
Right in front of Elizabeth and Beelzebub, Roy stored the cake in his inventory. Time was frozen in there, so it'd stay perfectly fresh.
The move stunned Hannibal. Roy hadn't emitted any energy fluctuations—it was as casual as pulling something from a pocket, yet the cake vanished.
Elizabeth wasn't fazed. She'd long noticed Roy's quirky abilities.
Despite bearing a mark, Roy rarely used the King of Sloth's powers, relying on his own instead.
Roy then stored Claire's leftover tentacle. It was too filling to waste—might come in handy later.
As for his own cake, he forced it down.
[Consumed mysterious substance. Mental attribute +2!]
As expected, another attribute boost. Roy was seriously tempted to drag Hannibal home.
"How was the meal?" Hannibal asked, having finished his own portion.
Elizabeth hadn't touched hers, pushing it toward Roy, probably noticing how much he enjoyed it.
Roy glanced at her. "It was great. You're not eating, Teacher Elizabeth?"
She smiled. "I don't need to."
Fair enough. At the King of Sloth's level, this food probably didn't do much for her. Or maybe she'd had it before.
Hannibal's eyes twitched at the gesture.
As Beelzebub, a loyal subordinate of Berial, when had he ever seen the King of Sloth so generous?
Clearly, Roy held a special place in Berial's heart.
Hannibal could only chalk it up to bad luck—he'd kicked a steel plate this time.
Roy stored Elizabeth's food in his inventory too, and she spoke up.
"Roy, I think your misunderstanding with Beelzebub is cleared up. Why don't you take Ms. Sheffield and head out?"
She didn't mention herself, hinting she had more to discuss with Hannibal.
Roy gave her a questioning look, but she subtly signaled him to leave. Whatever she had to say, it wasn't for his ears.
"Alright, Claire and I will head out."
Without overthinking it, Roy left Hannibal's apartment with Claire.
Once they were out, Claire went limp, nearly collapsing.
Roy caught her just in time. "Claire, you okay?"
"I'm fine, just… weak in the knees."
Roy got it. Claire was just a regular person. Being in the same room as two Hell Kings was bound to be terrifying.
Honestly, she'd held it together impressively. Most people would've been scared witless.
"Let me take you back to rest. Where are you staying?"
"I booked a room at the Dolphin Hotel. Can you take me there?"
What a coincidence!
Claire was staying at the Dolphin Hotel, right by Santa Monica Beach and close to UCLA—perfectly convenient.
Roy helped Claire onto his motorcycle, Big Bumblebee, and headed to the hotel.
Back in Hannibal's apartment, after Roy and Claire left, the room fell into a heavy silence.
Finally, Hannibal broke it with a sly grin. "Lord Berial, I didn't expect you to care so much about a human."
Elizabeth matched his smile. "Roy's no ordinary human. He's my bet."
Hannibal's grin faded. "You're betting on a human?"
"Why not? A bet has to be placed somewhere. Why not on a human I believe in? You know we can't reach that level ourselves, but Roy? He's got endless potential."
Hannibal fell silent, understanding her meaning all too well.
The Seven Hell Kings' titles were both a symbol of power and a shackle.
Bound to the authority of their sins, they could only act within Hell's rules. Breaking free was nearly impossible—they were like skeletons chained to their thrones.
Unless a higher being lent a hand. The next step up from a Hell King was Satan.
Satan was meant to be God's counterpart, but Hell had never truly had one—unless someone could unite all seven sins.
That, of course, was impossible.
No Hell King would relinquish their sin's authority, even if they didn't want it (looking at you, Lucifer). Giving it up meant losing their king-level power—a fate worse than death.
So, it was a paradox.
Sure, God could pull them out, but God was missing. And even if He wasn't, He wouldn't help Hell Kings.
"Enough about me. Let's talk about you, Beelzebub. Why are you hiding in this city?"
Beelzebub just smiled and said nothing, which annoyed Elizabeth.
"Beelzebub, are you trying to make an enemy of me?"
He quickly backpedaled. "No, no, no! I'd never dare oppose you, Lord Berial. It's just… some things I can't say."
Elizabeth stared into his eyes, seeing he wasn't lying.
Clearly, Beelzebub knew he couldn't fool her, so he opted for silence.
She crossed her arms, her tone turning aggressive. "Fine, don't talk. But you'll have to agree to one condition, or I'm sending you back to Hell right now."
Beelzebub's eyes darted. "Lord Berial, I have a better idea. How about a deal?"
"Oh? Let's hear it."
---
Cut to Roy…
After a passionate reunion with Claire, who hadn't seen him in over a month, things got heated fast. She was like an erupting volcano, pouring out all her enthusiasm.
But her fire burned bright and faded fast.
Soon, she was sprawled out, whimpering, barely able to speak.
Roy gave her toned back a playful slap—perfect for cupping therapy. "Come on, you start the fire and don't put it out?"
Claire, struggling, pressed her face against the thing she both loved and hated. "Roy, you're just too much. I can't keep up!"
"But the fire's raging now. Where am I supposed to find a firefighter?"
With the cursed daggers at Heather and Penny's place and his Smith & Wesson M629 revolver elsewhere, Roy was out of "firefighters."
He couldn't exactly bother Saltana, could he? She'd been working overtime for days and finally had a chance to rest.
Maybe call Keller?
Or get Jennifer or Nidi to come put out the blaze?
Just then, his phone rang.
It was Marianne Morgan again.
Roy hung up immediately. He was already fired up and in no mood for her nagging.
But Marianne was persistent, calling right back, which pissed Roy off.
He answered, letting loose. "Ms. Morgan, why are you so annoying? I told you I'm not interested in an interview. Why do you keep calling? With all this free time, why don't you go dig into what's happening at the White House?"
Surprisingly, Marianne didn't get mad. "Mr. Black, this isn't about the interview. I just want to get to know you better—in person!"
"No time!"
Roy hung up and blocked her number in one swift move.
Sure, her voice had that sultry, bubbly charm, but after her past behavior, Roy suspected she was setting a trap. Blocking her was the easiest way to avoid the hassle.
Then he called Keller, summoning his "firefighter" to douse the flames.
On the other end, Marianne tried calling again but kept getting blocked.
"Lady Adela, I think he blocked me," Marianne said, her eyes dazed as she looked at the woman before her—Adela.
In the room, besides Marianne and Adela, was Gretchen Henderson.
Gretchen was in a similar trance-like state, as if sleepwalking.
"He blocked you? Isn't this guy supposed to be a total player?" Adela mused.
Though a succubus, Adela was tech-savvy. Last time she was on Earth, she'd even considered becoming a cyber-succubus.
If Roy hadn't spotted her, she might've actually turned into a digital entity.
As Adela pondered, there was a knock at the door.
Ever alert, she made Marianne and Gretchen hide in a closet, then put on her sunny college-girl persona to answer it.
Opening the door, she saw a middle-aged woman in black, with a bizarre style.
(Lydia, played by Winona Ryder)
"Who are you?" Adela asked.
She'd expected the landlord or a neighbor, but this woman was a stranger.
The woman seemed startled. "Uh, isn't this Jenny's place? Did I get the wrong address?"
Adela smiled. "No Jenny here. You must have the wrong place."
"Oh! My bad! Is XX Street nearby?"
"It's a few hundred meters that way."
"Thanks, ma'am! Thank you!"
The woman in black thanked her profusely and left.
Adela closed the door, her smile vanishing. Something about that woman felt off, but she couldn't place it.
Meanwhile, the woman in black bolted downstairs, running several kilometers before stopping.
Gasping for breath, she muttered to herself, "Good thing I'm quick on my feet! Damn it, why's there a succubus in Los Angeles? What the hell did Gretchen get herself into?"
Photo of a young Winona Ryder