Chapter 512: Modeus Wants a Tattoo, Mysterious Contract Methods
Justice's departure left a heavy silence in her wake. Lucifer slumped slightly, exhaling a long, exhausted breath as she rubbed her temples. She still hadn't fully processed the morning's absolute absurdity. In the span of a few hours, two more denizens of Hell had casually strolled up to the mortal realm, one of them being the former High Prosecutor herself.
Ren watched the troubled Queen of Hell from across the room, a dry, helpless smile touching his lips. "I'm starting to think your Underworld has a revolving door," he mused. "At this rate, I fully expect the entire population of Hell to relocate up here by the end of the year."
Lucifer paused, her crimson eyes narrowing as she actually considered the logistics. "In a sense... if everyone comes up, wouldn't I be forced to go back to managing them? No. Absolutely not. This isn't Hell, which means I am officially off the clock." A sly, corporate smirk crept onto her face. "In that case... it's time to put Justice back to work."
Standing nearby, Pandemonica adjusted her glasses, her voice carrying its usual deadpan exhaustion. "Boss, if Justice knew you were scheming to employ her on her first day off, her mood would be rather delicate."
"It's nothing strenuous," Lucifer waved a hand dismissively. "She just needs to keep an eye on the Undead Servants when she gets bored. If any of those skeletons cause trouble, she turns them to stone. If they behave, they just keep doing their chores. Simple."
Pandemonica let out a long, weary sigh. "I feel like there is a glaring flaw in that logic, yet I lack the energy to point it out. Regardless... how exactly are we explaining Justice's presence to the public?"
"Former Chief Legal Counsel and Head of Security," Lucifer replied without missing a beat. "Doesn't that sound perfectly respectable?"
Modeus, who had been quietly observing, tilted her head. "Translating 'Hell's High Prosecutor' into corporate jargon somehow strips away all the intimidation factor..."
"Let's shelve the corporate structuring for now," Ren interrupted, gesturing toward the dining area. "It's time to eat. By the way, Nami, your new tattoo really suits you."
Nami flashed a bright, confident grin, rolling her shoulder to show off the vibrant ink. "Of course it does! A pinwheel and mikan oranges. It's beautiful, isn't it?" The fresh, colorful design completely masked the scarred skin where Arlong's hateful mark used to be.
Modeus leaned in, her silver eyes tracking the curves of the ink with sudden fascination. "Should I get one too?"
"Absolutely not," Lucifer snapped, shooting the lust demon a withering glare. "You do not need a tattoo. At all."
"Eh?! Why not?!" Modeus pouted, her cheeks puffing out in genuine displeasure. Was she the only one not allowed to decorate her body?
Lucifer sighed, adopting the tone of a tired mother. "Nami got hers to cover up a painful past., Nami and the others frequently wear light, breezy clothing—like they're lounging at the beach. You wear a tailored, long-sleeved turtleneck suit every single day. What is the point of marring your skin if no one is ever going to see it?"
Modeus blinked, the logic hitting her like a physical blow. She lowered her head, her shoulders slumping in dejection.
Seeing the demon's disappointment, Nami chuckled softly. "Where I'm from, pirates are covered in ink from head to toe. Modeus, if you really want one, you don't need to hide it. You could get something delicate on your fingers, the back of your hands, or even your neck and face."
Modeus slowly raised her hands, staring at her own slender, porcelain-white fingers. She reached up, her fingertips tracing the smooth, flawless curve of her own cheek. The tactile sensation of her unblemished skin was far too pleasant to ruin with needles. Dropping her hands, she nodded firmly. "You're right. I'd better just stick to my duties."
"Yeah, a face tattoo might be a bit much," Nami agreed with a laugh. She then turned her gaze toward the kitchen. "Speaking of which, I feel like Shopkeeper Ren would look incredibly intimidating with a full-body tattoo..."
Ren didn't even pause his preparations. "I'll pass," he said decisively. "I already have enough marks binding my body, and they are far more advanced than mere ink."
Lucifer crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing suspiciously at his back. "I'm starting to think your actual goal is to collect the soul contracts of every single entity in Hell."
"It wasn't intentional," Ren replied, his tone perfectly level. "But currently, I hold your contract, Lucifer. I have Cerberus's, Pandora's, Aoandon's temporary pact, and Yuko's master-servant life bond. When you list it out like that, it does sound completely outrageous."
Lucifer opened her mouth to defend her subordinates, but a sudden realization struck her. She turned sharply toward the lust demon. "Wait. Modeus, haven't you signed a contract with him yet?"
At the mention of a contract, Modeus jolted. A deep, feverish flush rapidly spread across her cheeks, traveling all the way down to her collarbone. She squeezed her thighs together and frantically shook her head.
Lucifer frowned, genuinely confused. "Why haven't you? You've been here long enough."
Modeus bit her lower lip, her breathing growing noticeably shallower. "Boss..." she stammered, her voice dropping to a husky, trembling whisper. "The way I... forge a contract... is very different from yours..."
Lucifer blinked. "Different how?"
"It's just... it requires... Oh, let's just talk about it when we get to our room tonight!" Modeus squeaked, burying her burning face in her hands.
Lucifer stared at her, utterly bewildered by the sheer panic radiating from the usually forward demon. However, the moment the topic was dropped, Modeus immediately closed the distance between herself and Ren, pressing her soft curves against his arm with a desperate, clingy heat. Lucifer watched them, a creeping sense of dread settling in her stomach. What exactly did a 'contract' entail for a demon of lust?
Pandemonica took a slow sip from her empty mug, her eyes dead and knowing. "I believe I've deduced the mechanics of it," she murmured. "It seems Modeus has been given a rather... grueling task by the boss."
"Eh?! Why are you phrasing it like that?!" Lucifer bristled. "You're making me sound like a villain!"
Sitting quietly by the window, Aoandon tilted her head, her pale blue hair shifting. "Are demons supposed to be good?" she asked softly.
Lucifer let out a long, suffering sigh. "It seems you mortals have a fundamental misunderstanding of our nature. Listen closely: sinners are sent to Hell. Their punishment is carefully calculated based on the weight of their sins. When the High Prosecutor passes judgment, the condemned are typically converted into Undead Servants—those mindless skeletons you see doing menial labor. The ones who fail even at that slowly calcify into stone over centuries."
Pandemonica adjusted her glasses. "Boss... you are describing the bureaucratic function of the Underworld. That has nothing to do with the actual nature of demons."
Lucifer's mouth twitched in annoyance. "Fine. Demons exist to tempt mortals into damnation, or to strike bargains with them. We extract payment equivalent to the weight of the desires we fulfill. Some mortals trade their souls, some barter their freedom, and others sacrifice their lifespans. It is a simple transaction."
"Hell also employs various torture devices and sin-extracting machines," Pandemonica added quietly. "Ultimately... demons are neither inherently good nor evil. We merely offer the choice. If a mortal lacks the willpower to resist temptation, that is a flaw in their own character. Their punishment is the consequence of their own greed."
(Somewhere in the distance, Cerberus's collective inner voice echoed: "We want to corrupt the human realm! We want to torment the neighbors! Wait, if there are no neighbors left, who do we torment? Never mind...")
Nami rested her chin on her hand, digesting the information. "When you put it that way, demons really don't seem that bad. Just strict businessmen."
Ren remained silent, letting the girls debate the morality of the Underworld. After plating the last dish, he looked over at the navigator. "Speaking of the future, Nami, aren't you planning to start your cultivation training soon? What path do you want to pursue?"
Nami's eyes lit up. "If I'm going to cultivate, I want to master everything related to the weather. Storms, lightning, atmospheric pressure—all of it."
"Weather?" Ren nodded slowly. "I can arrange that for you later tonight."
"Eh?! Shopkeeper Ren, you're a master of weather manipulation too?!"
"No, I just read the morning forecast," Ren replied dryly. "But I know someone who is an absolute authority on the subject. Her accuracy is flawless, and her knowledge is absolute. We'll discuss the details after we eat." He paused, glancing down at the demon practically melting against his side. "Also, Modeus, you've been acting incredibly strange for the past ten minutes."
Modeus kept her head bowed, her fingers curling tightly into the fabric of Ren's shirt. The sweet, heavy scent of her arousal was thick in the air. "I just... I feel so excited," she whispered, her voice trembling with raw anticipation. "Ren... if I finalize my contract with you... does that mean I can stay by your side forever?"
Ren looked down at her flushed face, his expression completely unbothered. "Aren't you already doing exactly that?"
Lucifer watched the exchange, her jaw slightly slack as Modeus let out a soft, euphoric gasp at Ren's words. The Queen of Hell slowly buried her face in her hands, finally realizing the sheer depth of the pit she had just dug for herself.
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