The voice on the other end of the line didn’t just scream; it modulated through three different octaves of pure, unadulterated entitlement before finally settling into a jagged, high-pitched wail."I was told there would be a buffet! A literal, all-you-can-eat buffet of my favorite childhood memories!" the caller shrieked. "Do you know what I’m looking at right now, Niran? I’m looking at a bowl of lukewarm oatmeal! There’s not even cinnamon on it! This is a breach of contract! I want to speak to your supervisor! I want to speak to God! I want to speak to whoever is in charge of the spice rack in this dump!"Niran leaned back, his eyes tracking a slow-moving river of lava outside his window. He didn't even blink."Sir, I hear your frustration, and I truly do," Niran said, his voice a smooth, calming balm that hid a razor-sharp edge. "But I’m looking at your file here—Mr. Henderson, right? It says you spent forty years as a health inspector who specialized in shutting down family-owned

"Look, Mr. Agony, I totally hear you. The heat is ‘insufferable.’ That’s literally the branding on the gate," Niran said, leaning back as the red light on his console finally winked out. "But if you aren't on the Premium Cooling tier, the best I can do is a damp paper towel and a firm ‘maybe.’ Have a cursed afternoon."He clicked the line shut and let out a breath that smelled faintly of the ozone crackling from his headset. Across the desk, Barnaby was vibrating with so much anxiety that his polyester waistcoat looked like it was trying to escape his body."Boss, you can't just tell a Duke’s primary torturer to use a damp paper towel," Barnaby whispered, his yellow eyes darting toward the heavy office doors. "That was Malphas’s brother-in-law!""Then Malphas should’ve told him to read the fine print," Niran replied, pulling a fresh stack of parchment toward him. "Barnaby, do you know what the biggest problem with Hell is? It’s not the fire. It’s the legalese. It’s bloated, it’s ineff

"Are you planning on staying for dinner? Because I’m pretty sure the cafeteria only serves 'Despair Pot Pie' on Tuesdays, and trust me, it’s mostly just crust and crushed dreams."Niran didn’t look up from his monitor as he spoke. He could feel Malyssa’s presence behind him, a cold, sharp pressure that felt like having a sword pointed at the back of his neck."I am conducting a formal shadow-audit, Tavio," Malyssa replied, her voice crisp and entirely too close to his left ear. "That means I go where you go. I watch what you do. I breathe the same sulfur-choked air you breathe. Consider me your shadow, but with a law degree and significantly more spite.""Great. My own personal rain cloud in a suit," Niran muttered, clicking through a spreadsheet of soul-migration patterns. "Barnaby! Can we get a second chair in here? Preferably one that’s uncomfortable enough to encourage a quick exit?""On it, Boss!" Barnaby’s voice squeaked from behind a stack of folders. The little demon scurried

The elevator doors hissed open with a jagged, metallic scrape, revealing the familiar obsidian-tiled lobby of the Inner Circle. Niran stepped out first, his legs feeling like overcooked noodles, clutching the golden parchment to his chest as if it were the last life jacket on a sinking ship."Check the hallway," Malyssa hissed from behind him, her violet eyes darting around the polished stone pillars. "If that Eraser followed us up here, we’re cornered. The security imps are useless against Void-Salt."Niran scanned the lobby. It was eerily quiet, save for the distant, rhythmic typing of a thousand skeletal clerks. "Looks clear. For now. But I’m pretty sure 'Quiet' is just Hell-speak for 'Incoming Disaster.'""You still have the Deed?"Niran patted his inner pocket. "Warm and glowing. It’s like carrying a sentient space heater. Where are we going? My office? Your office?""Neither," a smooth, baritone voice vibrated through the air.Lucifer was leaning against a reception desk, casual

The silence that followed Niran’s question was heavy, thick with the smell of ozone and the weight of a thousand divine and infernal eyes. He stood in the center of the Hall of Universal Arbitration, a tiny speck of human persistence flanked by a fallen god and a literal star-being."How can I help you ruin your eternity further?" Niran repeated, his voice cutting through the stillness."You dare?" Duke Valerius’s voice was like a landslide of obsidian. He rose from his throne of bone, his gold chains rattling. "You stand before the High Council and the Host of the Empyrean, charged with the systematic destruction of the mana-shard economy, and you ask for a complaint?""Actually, Valerius, I’m charged with reporting a massive case of administrative neglect," Niran said, adjusting the obsidian-bone headset around his neck. "And judging by the screaming match I walked in on, the 'Host of the Empyrean' isn't exactly thrilled with your management style either.""He is correct, Prince of