The portal snapped shut behind Loona with a wet, rubbery sound that always made the IMP office feel smaller than it actually was. The fluorescent lights flickered once as Hell's ambient energy settled back into place. The smell of gun oil, burnt coffee, and old paperwork hit immediately.
Loona stumbled forward, boots scraping the tile.
Blitzø landed behind her in a roll, popped up like a gymnast who absolutely should not be that flexible, and struck a pose like he'd just completed a heroic mission instead of a messy hit job.
Millie dusted herself off cheerfully.
Moxxie adjusted his tie.
Max wasn't there.
Loona turned in a slow circle.
Her ears twitched once.
Twice.
Her tail went rigid.
"Where is he?" she asked, voice low.
Blitzø waved a hand like he was brushing crumbs off a table.
"Probably out buying hookers or something."
The punch that followed came from Moxxie.
Not a playful tap.
Not a warning jab.
A full, clean, righteous swing.
His fist slammed into Blitzø's arm with a crack that echoed off the walls. Blitz actually flinched, stumbling half a step back in genuine surprise.
The room went silent.
Even the buzzing lights seemed to pause.
"Sir," Moxxie said, voice sharp in a way he rarely let himself sound, "Max said he was getting human food. For everyone. Again. And honestly? I don't understand why you keep trying to break them up."
Loona and Millie both stared at him like he'd just sprouted wings.
Blitz rubbed his arm, glaring.
"You punch like a bitch, Moxx. Stick to guns."
"God damn it, Blitz!" Loona snapped.
She stepped forward, claws half unsheathed without realizing it. Her eyes burned red, not with theatrical anger, but something rawer. Personal.
"Why can't you understand that I'm happy with him?" she demanded. "He saved me. Multiple times. Before I even knew he was an Overlord. Before I knew anything about his weird power crap. Just leave him alone!"
Blitz threw his hands up, pacing.
"Because something about him doesn't feel right!" he shot back. "You dated him what—three months before you found out he had all those other partners? And then after, like, three weeks you were just… okay with it? No demon, no sinner, no anything pulls that off without tricks. He's using you, Loona!"
"Using me how?!" Loona barked.
She jabbed a finger into her own chest.
"I'm the lowest in his harem. I've got nothing fancy to offer! Charlie's the princess of Hell. Bee runs an entire circle. Vaggie's some kind of angelic murder machine. Octavia's a walking portal to Earth. Me? I answer phones. I book kills. I sit behind a desk. I offer nothing—and he still risked his life to protect me!"
Her voice cracked on the last word.
The room felt smaller.
"He didn't have to," she continued, quieter now. "He revives anyway. He could've let me handle my own shit. But he didn't. He never manipulated me. He never forced me. He gave me the freedom to walk away anytime. You don't get to tell me that's fake just because it scares you."
Blitz's mouth opened.
Closed.
Opened again.
Nothing came out.
"It just…" he muttered finally. "It just doesn't make sense."
"It does to me," Millie said gently, stepping between them like a soft wall. "I think it's adorable. Most folks in Hell bounce between partners like pinballs. Nobody sticks. Nobody commits. And a sinner and a hellborn getting together romantically? That's fairy-tale stuff. The kind people write songs about."
Loona hugged her arms tighter.
"I always wondered why that was so rare," she murmured.
Blitz answered without thinking.
"'Cause sinners can't have kids. Punishment rule. Biological dead-end. Whole point is they don't get a legacy."
The words landed like a dropped knife.
Loona froze.
Her ears lowered slowly.
Her tail lost its tension and sank toward the floor.
The idea slid into place in her mind with awful clarity.
She had worked around sinners her entire adult life. Killed beside them. Talked with them. Laughed with them.
And somehow…
She had never connected that dot.
"Oh—sugar…" Millie whispered, stepping closer. "Didn't mean to bring that up. It's just… rare. And special. A sinner landing so many hellborn partners. Especially someone like Max. That's… big."
Loona didn't answer.
She turned.
Walked to her room.
The door slammed hard enough to rattle the frame.
Millie stared at Blitz.
"Nice goin', boss."
Blitz slumped into his chair like a puppet with cut strings.
"I'm just trying to protect her," he muttered. "Even if she hates me for it."
Moxxie looked at the closed door.
"She doesn't hate you," he said quietly.
"She's scared."
At the Hazbin Hotel
Charlie's phone vibrated so violently it nearly jumped off the table.
Vaggie grabbed hers at the same time.
Both screens were flooded.
Loona's name repeated over and over in the group chat.
Messages stacked in frantic bursts:
Loona: Is it trueLoona: Sinners can't have kids???Loona: Why did nobody tell me thisLoona: Is that permanentLoona: Is Max stuck like that foreverLoona: I'm not mad I justLoona: I just didn't knowLoona: I wanted a family somedayLoona: FuckLoona: I'm sorry ignore meLoona: Don't ignore meLoona: I don't know what I'm feeling
Charlie's heart sank.
"Oh no…" she whispered.
Vaggie read over her shoulder, jaw tightening.
"She didn't know. I'm… honestly surprised. She works with sinners every day."
Charlie sat slowly.
"Out of all of us, she was the one who talked about wanting a family. A real one. Before Max, it was just you and me—we would've adopted. But Loona… she wanted that biological connection. She never said it out loud, but it was there."
Vaggie softened.
Charlie started typing.
Charlie: Girls' night. Tonight. No excuses. We're talking this through together. You're not alone.
She hit send.
Vaggie stepped behind her and wrapped her arms around Charlie's waist, chin resting on her shoulder.
"You know," Vaggie murmured, voice low and teasing, "we've got a little time before tonight's chaos. And I'm not too shy to ask for a distraction."
Charlie's face turned bright red.
"You're terrible," she giggled.
"I know," Vaggie whispered, kissing her neck.
Charlie leaned back into her.
For a moment, Hell felt soft.
Human World
Max walked down a quiet human street, grocery bags cutting into his fingers.
The timer on his back glowed faintly beneath his shirt.
30:01
Still ticking.
Still wrong.
He shoved the food into his shadow pocket one bag at a time, freezing it in place where time didn't move. The street felt… empty. Too empty. No traffic. No distant sirens. No human noise.
The air pressed in.
Feathers rustled.
A dove landed in front of him.
Max stared at it.
Divine energy rolled off the tiny bird in waves.
"Oh great," he sighed. "God. What are you doing as a pigeon?"
"I am not a pigeon!" the dove boomed indignantly.
"You look like one."
The bird puffed up.
"I am a dove."
"Still a pigeon with branding."
The dove glared.
"Anyway," God said. "I heard your whining. Yes, there's a way to fix the glitches. The timer. The strain. The fertility issue."
Max stopped walking.
"…The what?"
"Yes," God said casually. "You heard me. I want at least one great-granddaughter within a century. I missed Charlie's birth. I'm not missing the next one."
Max blinked slowly.
"You want me to… have kids?"
"Don't overthink it. Point is: your body is wrong. You built a combat shell, not a life vessel. You need a new one."
Cold understanding slid into place.
"Oh," Max muttered. "Right. Destroy this body. Month-long rebuild. True form possession. I remember. That sucked."
"It will hurt," God said flatly.
"I assumed."
"You'll remember how once you start. Your full memory set is unlocked now."
Max nodded, the dove hopping onto his shoulder like an offended hat.
"And yes," God added, "I can still see the future. Unlike someone who turned it off because he got bored."
Max smirked.
"Seeing everything was dull. Roo agreed."
God huffed.
"Do what you want. But fix yourself. You're destabilizing."
The dove launched skyward and vanished.
Max exhaled.
"Great," he muttered. "Add 'rebuild my soul' to the to-do list."
He looked up.
The Eiffel Tower pierced the sky in the distance.
"One last stop," he said.
Shadow folded.
Paris swallowed him whole.