The mist had settled thicker around the boat, turning the world into nothing but gray and the soft sound of water lapping against wood. She didn't know how anyone could be oriented in a place like this.

Juno sat on a crate near the edge of the deck, knees pulled up, arms wrapped around them. She'd been sitting like that for a while now, watching the mist, trying not to think about Yves trapped in hell because of her.

It wasn't working.

Inside the cabin, she could hear Gin moving around. She noticed the scrape of metal, the hiss of something cooking. He'd been in there for maybe twenty minutes, not saying a word.

That seemed to be his default state. Silence. Not that she minds, though. She wasn’t a talkative person herself.

The smell of cooked fish drifted out from the cabin, and her stomach twisted with hunger she'd been ignoring since she woke up. When was the last time she'd eaten? Before the party? That felt like a lifetime ago.

Eventually, Gin emerged, holding a plate. Steam rose from it in thin wisps. He walked toward her with his usual measured gait and set it down on the crate beside her.

Mackerel, from the look of it, cooked with herbs she didn't recognize. The aroma wound itself around her, making her mouth water despite everything.

"You need to eat," he said flatly, already turning to leave.

"Thank you," Juno said quietly.

Gin paused for just a second, then disappeared back into the cabin without another word.

Juno looked down at the plate. For a moment, she just stared at it. It felt… strange, having someone care whether she ate or not. Nobody ever had before. Besides Yves, anyway, but he wasn’t here anymore.

She picked up the fork.

The first bite was... perfect. The fish flaked apart on her tongue, seasoned with a care that felt strange coming from someone so cold. She took another bite, then another, the complex flavors blooming across her palate; salt, smoke, something almost sweet beneath it all.

"This is amazing," she murmured to herself, the words escaping before she could catch them.

She was halfway through the plate when she heard it. A pleased hum, cutting through the quiet.

"Enjoying yourself already?"

Juno's hand stilled, fork halfway to her mouth. She turned slowly.

The Time Devil was perched on a crate, violet eyes gleaming with the kind of amusement that came at someone else's expense. The oil lamp above him cast warm, flickering light across his fur, each strand shimmering amber and gold.

"Didn't think you'd take to it so quickly," the cat purred.

Something about his tone made her skin prickle. "Take to what?"

The Time Devil's grin widened. "Oh, you really don't know, do you?"

Juno set the fork down carefully. "Know what?"

"That's not fish, sweetheart." The cat's tail flicked with barely contained glee. "That's Jerry, or was it James? Hard to tell once they've been properly prepared."

The words didn't land at first. They floated there, meaningless, like sounds without context.

Then they clicked.

The fork slipped from her fingers, clattering against the plate. Her stomach lurched violently. The fish, no, not fish, still tasted perfectly normal in her mouth. It was flaky and tender. Delicious, even.

Somehow that made it worse.

"What?" The word came out strangled.

"Human soul," the Time Devil said conversationally. "Seasoned with a bit of sea salt and wild herbs. Gin's quite the cook, actually. Most people here just eat them raw."

Juno's hand flew to her mouth. She stumbled toward the railing, her legs barely holding her up. She made it just in time, doubling over the side of the boat as her stomach violently rejected everything she'd just eaten.

She retched until there was nothing left, until her throat burned and her eyes watered and her whole body shook.

A person. You ate a person.

Behind her, she heard movement. Gin had followed, though he kept his distance. For a moment, she thought she felt him step closer, but when she glanced back through her tears, he was standing several feet away, arms crossed.

When she finally straightened, wiping her mouth with shaking hands, his expression had shifted into something that might have been sympathy. Or maybe just familiarity with this exact reaction.

"First time's always rough," he said, his voice gentler than she'd heard it before. "But that's how food works here. Souls wash up in the sea, we fish them out. It's just..." He paused, like he was searching for the right word. "Dinner."

"You're–" Juno's voice cracked. "You're all–"

She couldn't finish, and couldn't wrap her mind around what she'd just consumed. Someone who'd had a name, a life, memories, fears, hopes–

"Monsters?" The Time Devil supplied helpfully. "Well, yes. Though I prefer 'demons.'" His tail flicked casually. "You can starve if you like, but Jerry was already dead when he hit the water. We just made use of what was available. Waste not, want not."

Juno stared at them both. The cat with his gleaming, satisfied eyes. Gin with his careful neutrality.

Horror and disgust churned in her empty stomach. The rules here weren't the rules of the world she'd left behind. She was an outsider now. The living human in a realm where demons saw souls as just another kind of fish to catch.

Gin's voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. "I wasn't going to tell you." He wasn't looking at her, his gaze was fixed on something beyond the mist. "What they used to be… Figured it was kinder that way."

She realized then, that he'd known. He'd cooked it for her, seasoned it perfectly, made sure she'd actually enjoy it. But he'd also kept her in the dark about what it really was.

A demon showing mercy in the only way he knew how, maybe.

The strange thing wasn't that he'd fed her souls. It was that he'd tried to spare her the knowledge for as long as possible.

The boat rocked beneath her feet more violently than it should have, though the water remained calm.

Juno gripped the railing harder, trying to steady herself, and the silence stretched uncomfortably.

She kept swallowing, trying to rid herself of the aftertaste that now seemed to carry the weight of someone's entire existence. Her stomach was empty but somehow still rebelling, still trying to reject what it had contained. Or maybe she was just hungry.

The Time Devil stretched and his never left her face. "Now that we've gone and given Jerry a proper name," he purred, "I suppose it's only fair you know mine. Properly, I mean."

Juno looked at him warily.

"It's Ain."

She blinked. "Ain," she repeated, her voice still shaky. "That's... simpler than I expected."

She wasn't mocking. Just trying to focus on anything normal after everything she'd learned.

"What were you expecting?" Ain's grin widened. "Something with more syllables? More dramatic flair? Beelzebub? Mephistopheles?" He tilted his head, amused. "Trust me, darling. Ain suits me perfectly."

"It does." Gin's voice cut through their exchange.

Juno glanced between them, still trying to process the casual way they moved past the fact that she'd just performed some kind of soul cannibalism.

"How thoughtful of you to approve, Gin." Ain's purr carried mockery, though something warmer passed through his eyes.

"Doesn't change anything," Gin said flatly. "I still don't trust you."

The cat's grin somehow widened further. "Smart man. But tell me, who exactly do you trust? You seem like the type who'd be suspicious of his own shadow."

Juno wiped her mouth again, the metallic taste still lingering. "Is this really the time for... whatever this is?" Her voice cracked slightly. "I just found out I ate someone's soul and you two are having some kind of philosophical debate about trust."

The silence that followed felt loaded. Gin's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, his single visible eye narrowing. For a second, she thought he might actually respond. The air between him and Ain crackled with history she didn't understand.

Then the boat lurched.

It wasn't the gentle roll of natural waves. A violent, purposeful jolt that sent Juno's stomach plummeting toward her boots. Her hands slammed against the railing, knuckles going white as the world tilted at an impossible angle.

The temperature dropped ten degrees in an instant. The mist began to writhe, pulling back from the water's surface like it was fleeing something.

Gin was already moving before Juno's mind had even processed the threat. His hands found the twin katanas mounted against the cabin wall. The blades sang as he drew them.

"Something's wrong," he said, and his voice carried the kind of certainty that came from experience with very specific kinds of wrong.