Juno walked ahead, arms drawn close to her chest, boots whispering over cracked tile.

Behind her, Sereph groaned.

She turned. He hadn’t made it far. His body slumped against the scorched wall, legs trembling, his coat slick with blood on one side. Sweat clung to his brow, matting his already-dirty hair to skin too pale to be alive.

Juno hesitated. Then, slowly, she moved back to him.

Sereph lifted his head, grinning through bloodied teeth. His hair fell over his eyes, casting shadows that did nothing to blunt the gleam in them. “What, no hand for your beloved captor?”

She didn’t answer. Just crouched beside him, arm offered without a word.

“Oh, now you’re shy?” His laugh was hoarse. He winced as he shifted his weight, trying to stand. “Gods. This place is hell.”

As he leaned into her, Juno staggered slightly under the sudden heat of him.

“You make a very convincing little savior, princess,” he murmured.

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t flinch.

They moved in a slow, uneven rhythm. His steps faltered every few feet, weight dragging into her side. She held him up anyway. The muscles in his abdomen tensed beneath her fingers, hot and slick with blood. Still strong, coiled like something that could snap.

“You smell like lilies,” he muttered. “Not the sweet kind, though. More like the ones they leave at graves… pure, but always tied to death. Like a promise that no matter how bright, the bloom will wither.”

Juno stiffened but said nothing.

He drew in a shaky breath. “Gods… I’m so damn sensitive to your scent—every time you move, it—”

He cut himself off. Then he snapped his gaze to hers.

Her eyes had strayed to his, searching. His half-lidded gaze shone fever-dark, gold dulled at the edges by exertion and blood loss.

He coughed, quickly sliding his eyes away. “Forget I said that,” he muttered, voice rough as gravel. He cleared his throat, throat catching on the effort. “I… I’m delirious.”

Juno’s lips thinned as she looked away, cheeks heated in embarrassment.

“You’re not making sense,” she murmured.

“Probably not,” he admitted. “Hard to think straight when your organs are playing musical chairs. Pretty sure the beast cracked a rib. Maybe three.” His grin stretched thin. “Still… you’re not exactly radiant yourself.”

She looked at him then, wary.

“You look sick,” Sereph said bluntly. “Under the skin. Hollow-eyed. Like someone’s been carving you down piece by piece.”

Juno’s pulse spiked. She didn’t answer.

His fingers curled slightly on her shoulder, the pressure light but pointed. “Are you sick?”

The hallway seemed to still around them. Everything went quieter. Even the lights paused. Juno looked down at the broken tile, her throat tight.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Sereph was silent for a beat, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower. “You’re sick,” he echoed, but his tone had shifted into something sharper.  “But not dying.”

Juno’s hand tensed at his side.

He leaned into her slightly, tilting his head just enough to watch her face better. “Not even aging.”

That made her stumble slightly, barely a hitch in her stride, but it was enough.

He felt it. His grin returned. “Ah,” he breathed. “Found it.”

Juno turned her face away, jaw locked tight. But her heartbeat thundered, sharp and fast in her chest. And he could feel it.

“You’ve been frozen,” he said, quieter now. “Like something held you still. Something… outside time. A pact, maybe. That watch you wear…”

Juno stiffened.

“Your little Devil friend. The cat… he’s not just any Devil, is he?”

Her head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. “What do you know about Ain?”

He gave a rough laugh then broke into a ragged cough, blood speckling his lips. He wiped it away with the back of his hand like it didn’t matter and grinned again.

“Not much,” he rasped. “But I know the feeling of time folding wrong when I’m too close to you. I know rot when I see it refusing to spread. And I know a cursed thread when I feel it pull.”

His eyes locked with hers. For all his madness, his obsession, his animal violence, Sereph was clever. He watched people like maps, and he was always drawing the lines.

“You really don’t know, do you?” His voice had taken on a new cadence, low, humming, nearly joyful.

Juno didn’t look at him. “About what?”

“What you are.”

Her steps faltered slightly, but she kept walking.

“You’ve got pieces missing,” he went on, savoring each syllable. “You walk around with a hollow you don’t even know is hollow.”

That stopped her cold.

She turned to face him, and the exhaustion that usually sat in her expression peeled away, replaced by something razor-sharp. Her voice was quiet.

“Say what you mean.”

But Sereph only tilted his head. “I mean… Ain should’ve never let me take you.”

“You knocked Gin and Yves out,” she whispered. Her voice had gone brittle. “You never said how you got past Ain.”

“I didn’t,” Sereph said simply. “I was sure he’d stop me.”

The bottom fell out of her chest.

“But he didn’t. He just stood there. Said something like, ‘I’ll let you take her. Makes it easier for me.’ Then he watched me drag you away like you were nothing but bones in a dress.”

He got closer, relishing the way her breath hitched. “That’s when I knew. Something’s wrong with you. And something’s very wrong with him.”

“You’re lying,” Juno whispered. But even she could hear the tremor in her voice.

“Am I?” His tone dipped soft, almost sweet. That was worse. “You think he doesn’t know exactly what you are? You think that pact was made on even ground?” He stepped closer. "You were handpicked. There's something old happening here, something bad. And now you're the center of it."

Juno trembled. Rage burned in her throat, but she didn’t speak.

“And you want to know the best part?” Sereph said, straightening with effort, breath ragged, eyes wild. “You don’t even need to understand. Because I will. I’m so close, princess. So close to figuring it out. And when I do—”

“You’ll what?” she snapped, voice cracking.

“I’ll see what I choose to do with you.” His smile turned hungry. “And I’ll enjoy every second of it.”

Juno’s breath caught. Pain hit her ribs hard, like something tearing inside.

She gasped, stumbling forward, hand clutching at her mouth. Blood bloomed hot between her fingers, metallic and thick. Her knees gave, one arm catching the wall as her body wrenched with a deep, shuddering cough that ripped from her chest like it was trying to take pieces of her with it.

It wasn’t like before.

This was worse.

Her limbs went numb. Her vision blurred. Her sense of self slipped, like her body had become a costume worn too long.

Sereph stopped, eyes narrowing as he watched her collapse.

“…Shit.”

She collapsed to her knees, fingers trembling as she wiped at her lips, smearing red across her skin.

Sereph exhaled sharply through his nose, then gave a low, dry whistle. “Well. I guess we’re both a little fucked up, huh?”

Juno couldn’t speak. She squeezed her eyes shut, jaw clenched tight as another wave of heat pressed down over her.

Sereph’s voice lost some of its humor, not all, but enough. “You really shouldn’t be carrying me, princess. Looks like your expiration date’s trying to catch up.”

She forced herself upright, bracing on the wall. “I’m fine.”

Sereph scoffed. “Sure. And I’m the poster child for health.”

They stood there in the corridor for a moment, both of them heaving in pain, blood drying on their lips.

Then Juno finally said, quietly, “I won't die. Ain made sure of that.”

Sereph stared at her, his grin gone now, just the faintest flicker of something unreadable behind his eyes.

“Right,” he echoed softly. “but that’s not the same thing as living, is it?”

Juno didn’t answer. Her pulse was hammering in her ears, drowning out everything but the rasp of her own breath.

Sereph tilted his head, the faint gleam of his fangs showing again. “You’re gonna suffer forever then?”

Juno’s hand curled tighter against the wall, nails scraping against the grime. Those words hit her. She hadn’t thought about it that way.

She looked away, her throat burning, the taste of blood still thick on her tongue. “It’s the only way forward.”

“Bullshit,” Sereph said flatly. “You’re just worshipping your own leash.”

She turned to glare at him, even as her knees shook beneath her. “You think I have a choice?”

“I think you made one,” he said. “Back when Ain gave you that little cursed watch. Back when he asked for something, and you said yes. You think that deal just saved you?”

Juno’s chest tightened again, he was too close to something she wasn’t ready to name.

“You don’t know anything about me,” she snapped, even though her voice cracked on the last word.

“I know exactly what it looks like,” he said, stepping forward. “When someone trades their future for a borrowed present.”

He leaned down slowly, carefully, his injuries still clearly straining him, and met her eyes at level.

“I didn’t have a future,” she said. “I was dying. I made the pact seconds before it happened.”

She stared at him, her eyes distant at the memory of her almost-death, the words hanging between them. Juno’s knees threatened to give out again, her body swaying as another sharp wave of pain lanced through her spine and ribs. She gritted her teeth, leaning hard against the cracked wall, trying to breathe through the shaking.

Sereph faltered beside her, his usual arrogance flickering beneath a grimace. “Alright, alright—hang on,” he muttered.

He tried to reach for her, but his own injury buckled him mid-motion. His hand just grazed her elbow before he nearly doubled over with a low growl, catching himself on the opposite wall.

“Gods—” he spat through clenched teeth. “Helping people. Stupidest instinct I have.”

Juno blinked at him, sweat clinging to her lashes. “You’re terrible at it.”

“Yeah, well.” He looked up at her with a strained grin. “You're the caring one here.”

Their eyes met, his golden, slit pupiled, hers red and glassy with pain. She steadied herself against the wall and forced herself upright again, though her legs trembled under her weight.

Sereph's voice lowered, and for once there was no twist of cruelty in it. Just curiosity. “Do they know?”

Juno frowned. “Who?”

“Your little crew.” He gestured vaguely with his chin. “The human. The demon with a stick up his ass. Do they know you’re like this?”

She tried to keep her face still. Only the flicker of something in her eyes betrayed her.

Sereph noticed. He always did.

“They don’t, do they?” he said, more gently this time.

Juno shook her head once. “Yves does,” she murmured. “He knows I’m sick. Just not… how bad.”

She hesitated, then added, almost apologetically:

“But Gin… he doesn’t know.”

Sereph gave a low, mirthless laugh, more rasp than voice. “Gin’s gonna be furious. Acts all cold, but he’s the softest one out of all of you. That’s the funny part.”

Juno gave a faint shake of her head, but it wasn’t a denial, more a distant doubt, a question she didn’t know how to answer. “We haven’t… known each other that long,” she said quietly. “I don’t think he’d care that much.”

Sereph turned his head slightly, arching a brow. “You really believe that?”

She didn’t answer.

Their eyes met again in the silence. She was still pale, still trembling, but there was steel under it now. Slowly, she shifted her weight and pushed herself upright.

She took a step toward him. “You can lean on me again,” she said, steady as she could manage.

Sereph stared at her for a beat, then scoffed and waved her off. “Don’t need your help, princess.”

And he pushed away from the wall on his own.

The motion nearly buckled him, but he caught himself, teeth clenched, gait slow and uneven as he started forward

Juno didn’t stop him. She just walked beside him.