As they climbed to the top floor, the tension from earlier began to fade. But Juno could still see the frown between Gin's eyebrows.

When they reached the room, Gin pushed open the door to reveal a modest yet cozy space. The room was adorned with simple furnishings: two twin beds with neatly made blankets, a small wooden table with a single chair, and a worn but comfortable-looking armchair in the corner. The walls were paneled with dark wood, giving the room a warm, rustic feel. A single window offered a view of the bustling street below, its curtains swaying gently with the night breeze.

Gin closed the door behind them, leaning against it with a sigh.

Ain hopped onto a bed. He glanced around the room, taking in the details. “Not bad,” he mused. “Better than some places I've seen.”

“Don't complain,” Gin said flatly.

“I wasn't complaining.”

“Sounded like it.”

“I said it wasn't bad.”

Gin set his katanas down carefully against the wall.

Juno felt her body ache. The bruises on her wrist throbbed where Sereph's clawed grip had tightened too hard.

Gin hadn’t spoken much to her since he saved them. He had led them here with an unreadable expression, his usual coldness even more impenetrable than before. But as soon as they entered the room, he turned to face her fully.

“Are you hurt?”

Before she could answer, he was already stepping closer, reaching for her wrist.

He let out a quiet exhale through his nose. “Tch. That bastard grabbed you hard.”

Juno gave a small nod. “It’s not that bad,” she said quietly, though the bruises told another story.

Gin just kept looking at the mark.

“You didn’t say anything the whole way here,” she added, her voice softer now. “I thought maybe you were mad.”

His brows knit slightly. “Mad?”

“I don’t know,” she said, shrugging with one shoulder. “You barely said a word the whole way here. I figured maybe you were second-guessing the whole rescue thing.”

Gin scoffed under his breath. “If I regretted it, you’d know.”

That brought the tiniest curve to her lips. “Real comforting.”

He didn't acknowledge the sarcasm, but something shifted in his expression. “Could've been worse.”

Juno looked up at him. “I don't think ‘could've been worse’ is the bar we should be aiming for.”

He went quiet. His thumb brushed once against the bruise on her wrist. She didn't mean to say it out loud, but the words came anyway.

“Do you think I smell weird?” 

His fingers tensed almost imperceptibly around her wrist. “…What?”

She faltered, heart lurching in her chest. “Sereph said it. That I smelled… different. Like I was intoxicating or something like that.”

"Thought you’d never ask," Ain mused. He hopped down from the bed, padding toward them. “You don’t smell like regular humans. I’ve been picking it up since the beginning.”

Juno’s cheeks flushed. “So it’s not just Sereph.”

Gin’s gaze shifted, calculating something he didn’t say out loud. Then, finally, he let out a low breath.

“…You do have a scent,” he said. “It’s faint, but it’s there.”

“What does it mean?” she asked. “Why would I smell like that?”

“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” Ain murmured. “Demons don’t obsess over humans unless there’s a reason. Either something’s in your blood, or…”

“Or someone made you this way.” Gin continued.

Juno's throat went dry. “Made me?”

He didn’t elaborate. Juno forced herself to look Gin in the eye, searching for something in his expression that might give her more clarity.

Before she could speak Gin let go of her wrist, stepping back.

“Get some rest,” he muttered. His voice returning to its usual indifference. “We’ll deal with this later.”

Ain let out an exaggerated sigh. “Ah yes, let’s all ignore the obvious problem, classic.”

She gave him a look, and without a word, she lay back on one of the beds. Ain stretched out beside her, and yawned, tail flicking once before settling against the blankets.

Gin stood by the window, staring out at the night. “Good night.”

Juno opened her eyes again, catching his gaze. “Good night, Gin. You too, Ain.”

Gin gave a small nod. “Sleep well.”

Gin watched her for a while longer, then turned back to the window. The city outside was still, unusually so, but peace like this never lasted long.

Ain’s quiet purring filled the room and Gin let it lull him, his guard easing ever so slightly. He closed the window, then dropped into the old chair, resting his head against the worn wood.

• • •

Juno awoke to the faint light of dawn filtering through the curtains. 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, one arm resting against the window frame. 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.

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

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

She nodded. “Better than I thought I would. You?”

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

Juno slid out of bed, barefoot steps quiet on the floorboards as she made her way to the small bathroom tucked to the side.

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.

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.

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 she didn’t like what she saw. “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 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… I think I’m going to need something to eat.”

“We can manage that,” he replied.

From the bed, Ain stirred with a 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. "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. 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, he glanced up as they approached. “Morning. Sleep well?”

Gin replied first. "Yeah, thanks."

Kord’s gaze shifted to Juno. “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. “What can I get you all for breakfast?”

Ain was already perched on the counter. “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. "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.

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.

Kord moved behind the bar, his claws occasionally scraping the cast iron. Before long, he returned with three steaming plates and mugs.

He set the dishes down. "Eat up, girl. You'll need your strength."

"Thank you," she said softly.

She took a sip of the coffee, the warmth curling down her throat and settling in her chest. The eggs were perfectly cooked, the roasted potatoes crispy and golden, and the bread slathered with real butter.

Gin was quietly working through his own plate, though his movements were slow, 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 set his fork down and was quiet for a moment, like he was choosing his words carefully. "Just making sure you're okay."

That surprised her. 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, but 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.

“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 paused for a second, remembering the necklace that hid in her pocket. “Yeah. Let's talk about Yves.”

Gin pushed his plate away, making the ceramic scrape against the wood.

“I know where he is.”

Juno’s head snapped to him.

“Heard it last night. Before I came for you.” His eye flicked up, just once. “Red Cliffs. The dungeons.”

The words confused her. Red Cliffs. She didn't know what that meant, but it sounded bad. Everything here sounded bad.

“Can we–”

“The demon holding him is Gluttony.”

Kord's hands froze mid-wipe on the counter. Ain's tail stopped its lazy swaying. Juno looked between them, trying to read the sudden tension.

“Gluttony,” she repeated slowly. “Like... the sin?”

Gin took a deep breath. “Not like. Is.”

She blinked at him. That didn't make sense. The Seven Deadly Sins were concepts. Moral failings. Things priests talked about in sermons that made everyone feel vaguely guilty.

They weren't... people. Demons. Whatever.

Gin seemed to read the confusion on her face. His finger traced the rim of his empty cup, deciding how much to say.

“The Seven Sins,” he said finally. “Pride. Wrath. Envy. Gluttony. All of them.” He looked up at her. “They're real here. Not ideas. Not metaphors. Real. And they run this city.”

Juno's mind struggled to catch up. Tried to find words that made sense.

“How–” She stopped, then started again. “How is that even possible?”

“The Creator made them that way.”

Juno looked at him. “Who's The Creator?”

Gin didn't answer. Just stared at the table like he was looking at something she couldn't see.

Kord spoke instead. “Someone who shouldn't be talked about over breakfast.”

Ain snorted. “Or ever, really. But here we are.”

Whoever The Creator was, even the name was enough to kill conversation. Juno swallowed hard. Her mind was still trying to process the first part. The Seven Sins were real, walking around. Powerful enough to rule hell. And one of them had Yves.

She forced herself to focus. “So what do we do?”

Gin stood. The chair scraped loud against the floor. “We don't go in blind.” He reached for his coat, pulling it off the back of the chair. “That's suicide.”

Ain stretched, claws clicking against the counter. “Lucky for you, I know someone who might have answers. Someone who knows Gluttony's weaknesses.”

Juno looked at him and waited.

His grin widened, showing his fangs. “You'll see.”