It started with a smell.
Not smoke exactly—more like burnt fabric, scorched detergent, and regret layered so thick it felt tangible. The kind of smell that clung to your nose and whispered, something has gone terribly, irreversibly wrong.
Bella froze mid-step. One boot hovered above the floor.
Nyx slowly lowered her phone. Garruk stopped mid-sip of soda. Arthos blinked, sniffing the air like a knight sensing a cursed battlefield.
"…Why," Bella said carefully, each word sharpened by restraint, "does it smell like laundry had a final boss fight?"
No one answered.
Ash drifted lazily through the fluorescent light, settling on shelves, counters, and half-open boxes like gray snow. It coated the floor in soft, uneven piles. Too even. Too familiar.
Bella's eyes narrowed.
They all turned toward the storage room.
Vario stood in the center of it. Arms crossed. Chest out. Chin lifted. The posture of a man who thought he had done something impressive.
Around him were piles of ash.
Not random piles.
Uniform-shaped piles.
Perfect outlines where fabric had once been. Sleeves. Collars. Aprons. Name tags reduced to dust.
Nyx's smile vanished. Slowly. Completely.
"Vario," she said.
Bella took one step forward. Her boot crunched softly. She looked down. Recognition hit instantly.
"…That," she said in a low, quiet voice, "was my uniform."
Nyx stared at another pile. "That one was mine."
Arthos dropped to his knees. "No… that one had my name stitched on it…"
Seraphine clasped her hands together. "They've been… cleansed."
Kael crouched, touched the ash, then stood. "Uniform survival rate: zero percent. Recovery probability: nonexistent."
The Demon King leaned against a shelf, cup noodles in hand. "I have erased kingdoms with less devastation."
Yuwen sighed deeply. "This hurts more than war."
Varkos growled. Selene vanished into the shadows without a word. Morvane silently sanitized his hands, even though nothing remained to sanitize.
The monkey screeched from above and tossed a handful of ash into the air like confetti.
Vario cleared his throat. "So. Funny story."
Bella's knife slid halfway out of its sheath. Then stopped. She inhaled. Exhaled. Forced it back in.
"I am choosing," she said, voice tight, "not to stab you. Speak."
Vario gestured vaguely. "I was testing something."
Nyx crossed her arms. "Testing what."
"Aura output."
Bella stared.
"Fire affinity."
Bella took another step closer.
"I sneezed."
Silence fell so hard it felt physical.
"…You sneezed," Nyx repeated.
"Yes," Vario said, nodding seriously. "Very powerful sneeze."
Garruk squinted. "You destroyed everyone's uniforms… with a sneeze."
"An enhanced sneeze," Vario corrected.
Bella laughed. Once. Short. Sharp. "Amazing. Truly. You've unlocked a new class. Laundry Slayer."
Nyx rubbed her temples. "We don't have backups."
That sentence hit harder than any insult.
No backups.
No spare uniforms.
No emergency aprons.
Everyone slowly looked down at what they were wearing. Then at each other. Then back at Vario.
Garruk broke the silence. "So… what do we wear?"
Vario blinked. Looked down at himself.
His apron fluttered slightly. Untouched. Pristine.
"…I may have missed one," he said.
Bella smiled. It was not a friendly smile. Not even a dangerous one. It was the smile of someone who had accepted violence as a concept.
"Congratulations," she said sweetly. "You're sharing."
What followed was chaos of a different kind.
Emergency solutions were attempted. Trash bags became ponchos. Towels were tied into makeshift aprons. One Demon General wore a cardboard box labeled "FRAGILE." Arthos fashioned a cape from plastic wrap. Seraphine refused to wear anything that wasn't blessed