Juno awoke to the faint light of dawn filtering through the curtains. The bed beneath her had been unexpectedly comfortable, the kind of comfort she hadn't realized she needed until she was already sinking into it.

She blinked sleep from her eyes and sat up slowly, her gaze drifting to the window. Gin was there.

He sat in the old armchair, silhouetted against the faint morning light, one arm resting against the window frame. His gaze was fixed somewhere outside. It was hard to tell if he’d actually slept at all.

As for Ain, he was curled up on the far bed like a bundle of dark fluff, his breathing slow and even.

Juno rubbed her face with both hands, then yawned quietly. “Morning, Gin,” she said, her voice still thick with sleep.

He turned at the sound of her voice. “Morning. Did you sleep okay?”

She nodded, stretching her arms over her head. “Better than I thought I would. You?”

A faint pause. Then he replied, “Yeah. A little.”

There was something unspoken in his voice. Not quite a lie, but not the full truth either. She didn’t press it.

Juno smiled faintly and slid out of bed, barefoot steps quiet on the floorboards as she made her way to the small bathroom tucked to the side. The cool tiles beneath her feet were a welcome contrast to the warmth of the bed.

Inside, it was simple and clean. A mirror hung above the sink, slightly fogged from the cool of the night. She turned the tap and splashed cold water on her face, letting it wake her fully. The scent of the soap was sharp and oddly comforting.

As she looked at herself in the mirror, the harshness of the morning light revealed the toll her illness had taken. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her skin was pale and drawn. She ran a hand through her tangled hair, trying to tame it.

I look like death warmed up, she thought, a wave of self-consciousness washing over her. She considered applying makeup to hide the effects of her illness, but she had nothing to work with, since everything had been left at her house, including her clothes. A sigh escaped her lips.

She forced a smile at her reflection, but it felt hollow. “Don’t do that,” she muttered to herself.

Then the cough hit. She turned away, covering her mouth instinctively. It passed quickly, but when she pulled her hand back, she saw it: blood.

Not much, but enough to put her in a bad mood.

She quickly washed it down the drain. Her chest ached, and for a second, all she could do was stare at the running faucet.

Eventually, she shut it off and took a steadying breath.

When she stepped back into the room, her face was still damp, hair wet at the ends. She caught her reflection in the window’s glass this time. Even in the softer morning light, there was no hiding the exhaustion.

Gin glanced over at her. “You look tired.”

She shrugged, trying not to make a big deal of it. “Just a bit.” A beat passed. “I think I’m going to need some coffee.”

"We can manage that," he replied. It was a promise, a silent assurance that he would take care of her.

From the bed, Ain stirred with a dramatic yawn. His eyes cracked open just enough to catch sight of her. "You look like you’ve been through a demon's ringer," he said with a teasing grin. "Did you even sleep?"

Juno gave him a flat stare. “Thanks. That’s exactly what I needed to hear first thing.”

The teasing grin stayed on his face, but there was something knowing behind it. Ain, of all people, knew what she was hiding. And he wasn’t about to say it out loud.

Ain chuckled, unbothered by her retort. "Hey, I'm just saying. We’ve all had a rough night. But don't worry, with a little food you'll be back to your charming self."

Gin shook his head at Ain’s antics, turned back to Juno. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go downstairs. Maybe Kord can make something hot. You’ll feel better after eating.”

Juno nodded, feeling a little steadier as the three of them made their way down the narrow hallway.

As they descended the stairs, the rich scent of cooking grew stronger. Her stomach twisted in response, reminding her just how long it had been since she’d last eaten properly.

They stepped into the bar.

Behind the bar stood Kord, massive, broad-shouldered, and somehow still managing to look gentle as he moved with surprising grace.

He glanced up as they approached and offered a nod. “Morning. Sleep well?”

Gin replied first, his tone neutral. "Yeah, thanks."

Kord’s gaze shifted to Juno. His brows lifted slightly, tone gentling. “And you, human girl? Rested up?”

Juno offered a small smile. “Yes. Your inn is really comfortable. Thank you.”

Kord let out a low chuckle, wiping his hands on a towel slung over his shoulder. “That’s what I like to hear. My place may creak like bones, but it holds together. Now–” He leaned forward slightly, massive elbows resting on the counter. “What can I get you all for breakfast?”

Ain, already perched on the counter with his tail lazily swaying behind him, smirked. “Got anything strong enough to wake the dead? Our girl here’s running on fumes.”

Juno gave him a tired glare. "Appreciate the subtlety, as always."

"Could you make hers with no meat?" Gin asked quietly, his voice almost lost under Ain's chatter.

Kord's expression shifted, understanding flickering in his dark eyes as they moved between Gin and Juno. He gave a small nod. "Course I can."

As he turned back to the stove, the kitchen area flared to life with the familiar sizzle of eggs hitting hot iron. The aroma thickened; buttery toast, the rich bite of coffee beans being ground.

Juno slid into a chair near the corner of the bar, taking the seat to Gin’s left on purpose. She noticed the way his body angled ever so slightly toward her, just enough to keep her within the reach of his good eye.

Ain chattered on beside them, shifting between teasing Gin and tossing casual questions Juno’s way. The conversation drifted comfortably around her, filling the silence that had been too heavy the night before. She didn’t join in much, but she listened, the sound of them grounding her.

Kord moved with surprising ease behind the bar, the occasional flick of his claws scraping gently against cast iron. Before long, he returned with three steaming plates and mugs that radiated warmth.

He set the dishes down with care, giving Juno an approving nod. "Eat up, girl. You'll need your strength."

"Thank you," she said softly. And she meant it. She took a sip of the coffee, the warmth curling down her throat and settling in her chest. It was strong but it felt like it was waking her bones. The eggs were perfectly cooked, the roasted potatoes crispy and golden, and the bread slathered with real butter.

For a few blessed moments, everything felt… normal.

Gin was quietly working through his own plate, though his movements were slow and absent-minded, and every so often she caught his eye flicking toward her food, almost like he didn't want her to notice.

The thoughtfulness of it, him asking Kord to leave the meat off her plate without making a show of it, settled warm in her chest alongside the coffee because he'd cared enough to remember.

She took another small bite, aware of his peripheral attention and the way he seemed to be waiting for something.

"Not hungry?" His voice was quiet.

Juno glanced up. "I'm eating."

"Mm." He didn't sound convinced and took another bite of his own food, chewing slowly while his eyes drifted back to her plate.

She picked at the vegetables on her plate, getting a bit uncomfortable by his strong stare.

"It's good," she said finally.

"Kord knows what he's doing."

Another pause while Gin's fork scraped against ceramic, and she noticed he was almost done with his plate already while she'd barely made a dent in hers.

She shifted in her chair because this felt too much like being monitored. "You don't need to watch me eat."

He looked at her then, something unreadable crossing his face before he said, "Not watching."

"Feels like it."

He set his fork down and was quiet for a moment, like he was choosing his words carefully. "Just making sure you're okay."

The directness of it caught her off guard.

She took a bigger bite, then another, and watched as he nodded and his shoulders relaxed slightly before he went back to his food without another word.

The plate was already half-finished, her body grateful for something solid. Her limbs still felt tired, but there was a steadiness returning, like her bones were remembering how to hold her up again.

The thing was, she wasn't used to eating much; that was a side effect of her illness. Her body rejected food easily. Too much at once and she'd throw it all back up. People had told her she was too skinny, and she could see it in the mirror: her ribs were visible when she stretched out on her back, and her neck showed what lay underneath without her permission. Still, she forced herself to eat more now that someone was actually keeping track for some reason.

She set her fork down, glancing between her plate and Gin's. Hers was all vegetables, eggs, bread. His had been... something else.

“Why do you choose to eat meat?” she asked quietly. “If there are other options.”

Gin looked at her for a moment, then set his fork down. “Because the other options don't work.”

“What do you mean?”

“Vegan diet weakens you,” he said simply. “Makes you slow, easy prey.”

Ain stretched. “Translation: you either eat demon flesh, or you become demon flesh. Circle of life, and all that.”

Juno's stomach twisted. “So it's not really a choice.”

“No,” Gin said. “It's not.”

She looked down at her plate, processing that. “But I–”

“You're human,” Gin cut in. “Different rules.”

She wanted to ask more about how the system worked, why it had to be this way, but something in Gin's expression stopped her, like the answers never got easier to hear.

“Okay,” she said quietly.

Gin's eye lingered on her for a moment, then he nodded and went back to his plate.

“Now that we've covered the depressing basics…” Ain said. “Maybe we should talk about that necklace?”

Juno's hand instinctively went to her jacket, where Yves' necklace rested.

Her voice steadied. “Yeah. Let's talk about Yves.”

There was a pause and Gin pushed his plate away slightly. “Last night,” he said, voice low, “I overheard some demons talking. They mentioned Sereph’s boss kidnapping another human.”

Her fingers tightened around the cup.

He leaned forward slightly. “That has to be him.”

She blinked at him, her heart lurching. “You’re sure?”

“I’m not,” he admitted, “but the timing fits. And finding that necklace where they grabbed you” his eye flicked to her pocket, “wasn’t a coincidence.”

Juno swallowed hard. “Who… who is Sereph’s boss?”

Gin’s jaw flexed. For a moment, he looked like he might lie or at least withhold something. But then he exhaled.

“A demon called Gluttony.”

Ain, who’d been quiet for once, let out a soft snort. “She’s not the kind you want noticing you, Juno. Trust me.”

Juno shook her head slowly. “Gluttony… like the sin?”

“They’re not just sins,” Gin said. “They’re rulers. Each one owns a piece of Devil Town”

“And Gluttony’s got Yves?”

“If he’s still alive,” Gin said, and there was no softness in it.

The words hit harder than she expected, but she didn’t look away. “Why him?” she whispered.

Gin exhaled, his tone edged with frustration. “I don’t know. Sereph is her subordinate, which makes him dangerous by default. If Yves is in their hands, he’s in more trouble than we thought.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Juno stared at the table, her hands curling into fists. Her voice trembled, but her eyes were hard. “Then we have to find him.”

Gin didn’t move. “You sure you’re ready for what that means?”

“No,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t change anything.”

Gin finally leaned back, letting out a slow breath. “Then there’s something you need to understand.” He looked at her, his gaze sharp and colder than usual. “The Seven Sins weren’t born. They were made. A long time ago, a powerful fallen angel twisted the idea of sin into something real. Living, breathing hunger.”

Juno listened, barely blinking.

“Gluttony’s not just a demon,” he continued. “She is hunger, excess, obsession. You don’t fight her, you survive her. And even that’s rare.”

Juno frowned. “Who created them?”

“The one who made them doesn’t walk among us anymore. But their influence” he gestured vaguely, as if it touched everything around them “never left. They made the Sins as weapons. And then left the world to rot beneath them.”

“And Sereph?” she asked quietly. “He serves her?”

“He serves power,” Gin muttered. “He and I… we made different choices.”

She didn’t press, but the look she gave him said she understood more than she let on. “So this is personal.”

Gin met her gaze and didn’t deny it. “It is. But that doesn’t change what we have to do.”

Juno nodded slowly. “Then what’s the plan?”

Gin tapped the table, once. “We find out what feeds her. She’s strong, but not invincible. Cut off her excess, she weakens. The problem is, we don’t know what that is yet.”

Ain’s voice piped in, dry but focused. “Good thing I know someone who might.”

Gin glanced over at him. “That contact of yours?”

Juno felt a spark of hope. “Who is it?”

Ain’s grin widened. “You’ll see.”