The Devil's lease

Chapter eight: Walls, not Wallet.

Caleb sat hunched on the couch, chin in his hands, glaring at the pizza box humming on the counter like it was mocking him. The smell still hung in the apartment—cheesy, greasy, way too alive for anything edible. It wasn’t even food anymore; it was a dare.

His stomach growled like an angry dog.

“No,” he muttered, jabbing a finger at the box like it could hear him. “You don’t get me twice. I’m not about to have another heart-to-heart with pepperoni.”

The pizza hummed louder, like it was offended.

Caleb dragged himself to the fridge. He yanked it open, bracing for more horrors—maybe glowing milk, or an apple that coughed—but what he found made his eyes widen.

Sitting dead center was a neat black plastic tray of sushi. Salmon rolls. Tuna. Even a tiny container of soy sauce, like it had been catered by some five-star Japanese place.

Caleb blinked. “Oh… oh my God. Actual food.”

He didn’t even question it. Hunger bulldozed suspicion. He grabbed the tray, popped it open, and dunked a roll straight into the soy sauce. The rice was cold, but he didn’t care. It was glorious. A little too glossy, maybe, but glorious.

“Thank you, Lord,” Caleb whispered dramatically after swallowing, eyes to the ceiling. “You came through.”

Lena appeared in the doorway, clutching her ever-present laptop. “Please tell me you’re not thanking God for Hell’s catering service.”

He pointed a chopstick at her like it was a sword. “Don’t ruin this for me. Let me have one win. Just one.”

She smirked but shook her head, dropping into the armchair. “Fine. Die happy then.”

Caleb chewed another roll, blissed out, then nudged the tray toward her. “Want some?”

“I’m good.” She cracked her knuckles and opened her laptop.

“You’re seriously just gonna… sit there and click away while I savor the best moment of my cursed existence?” Caleb said, waving a sushi roll for emphasis. “What are you even doing? You’re always on that laptop. You like… live on free Wi-Fi or something?”

Her head snapped up. The smirk vanished.

“Excuse me?”

Caleb froze mid-bite, roll halfway to his mouth. “…What?”

“You really don’t know what I do, do you?” she said, voice flat.

Caleb swallowed hard, suddenly wishing the sushi would choke him out. “I mean… you’re, uh… techy? Laptop-y? Like… hacker vibes?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Caleb. We’ve been friends for years. I’ve told you. Multiple times.”

He winced. “Right. Totally. I was just… testing you?”

“Testing me?”

“Yeah. Like a… friendship quiz. You passed.” He forced a grin.

She leaned forward, her voice sharp. “I’m a junior legal researcher. That means I work at a firm. I spend all day digging through statutes, contracts, precedents—basically finding the loopholes other people miss. You know, real work.”

Caleb blinked at her. “So… you’re a professional loophole hunter?”

“Yes,” she snapped.

“…That’s actually perfect.”

Her jaw clenched. “Perfect?”

“For this!” He flailed his chopsticks at the cursed lease sitting on the table. “You were literally born for this gig. Loopholes are like… your superpower.”

She crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Wow. Nice save. You didn’t even know what I do until thirty seconds ago.”

“I’ve had… a lot on my plate,” Caleb said weakly, gesturing at the humming pizza box. “Literally and spiritually.”

Her glare softened a fraction, but the disappointment still stung. She turned back to her laptop and muttered, “Unbelievable.”

Caleb stuffed another sushi roll in his mouth to avoid replying. It wasn’t enough to fix the embarrassment clawing at his chest, but it was better than silence.

The apartment was quiet except for the hum of the cursed pizza, the clicking of Lena’s keys, and Caleb’s chewing. He had to admit, the sushi was a massive upgrade. Weird aftertaste—like the soy sauce was winking at him—but still better than having pepperoni whisper about his childhood insecurities.

He set the tray down, finally full, and leaned back with a sigh. “Okay. Honestly? Worth it. Still better than that demonic pizza.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Lena said, not looking up. “Hell doesn’t just give out freebies. Everything has a catch.”

“Yeah, but sushi’s sushi,” Caleb said, trying to sound confident. “What’s the worst it can—”

The lights flickered. The fridge growled. One of the rolls wiggled ever so slightly.

“…Never mind,” Caleb muttered. “I don’t wanna know.”

---

The afternoon crept on. Lena typed furiously, stopping now and then to scribble notes on a pad. Caleb paced the room, occasionally glancing at her like he wanted to ask something but thought better of it.

Then the door creaked open.

Dev strolled in, sipping espresso from the same cup he’d had since yesterday. Not a drop spilled. Not a single hint of steam had left it.

Caleb blinked. “Wait—are you still drinking that same espresso?”

Dev took a long sip, then smirked. “Apparently it’s eternal. One of Hell’s little bonuses. Never cold, never runs out.”

Caleb stared. “That’s… actually kind of cool.”

“Thank you,” Dev said with mock pride.

“But also creepy,” Caleb added quickly.

“There it is,” Dev sighed.

He sank into the couch, stretching out like he owned the place. Caleb crossed his arms. “So, question. My account’s still empty. I checked. Twice. Why? Doesn’t the lease cover, like… living expenses?”

Dev barked a laugh. “The lease is for the property, sunshine. You signed for walls, not wallets. Hell’s generous, not stupid.”

Caleb’s jaw dropped. “So I give y’all souls in return for just housing?”

“Correct.” Dev grinned over his cup. “Not that you have a choice.”

Lena slammed her laptop shut with a sharp snap. “Obviously, contracts don’t give you money unless you specify it. This shows you really didn’t read every context of the contract, Caleb.”

Caleb winced, guilt rolling over him like a wave. “Okay, fair. In my defense, there was… blood, glowing ink, creepy Latin—kinda distracting.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Unbelievable.”

Caleb muttered under his breath, “Thank God.”

Dev froze mid-sip. Slowly, he turned his head. “What did you just say?”

“Uh…” Caleb coughed. “Nothing.”

“You thanked Him?” Dev’s voice dripped venom. “In my presence?”

Caleb shrugged. “Hey, you guys don’t have a copyright on gratitude.”

Lena snorted into her hand, trying not to laugh.

Dev’s eye twitched. “You are insufferable.”

“And you’re impossible,” Caleb shot back.

“Difference is, mine’s a compliment.” Dev smirked.

Lena cut in, sharp as a blade. “Focus. We’ve got twenty-nine days left, and if Caleb doesn’t play this right, he’s toast. So instead of comparing egos, maybe explain what exactly you expect him to do.”

Dev raised his cup in salute. “Training starts soon. But for now? Enjoy your bonus sushi and roommate dramatics. Tomorrow, we begin.”

Caleb groaned. “Great. Can’t wait to learn how to be Hell’s worst intern.”

Dev’s grin widened. “Oh, you will.”

--

The apartment was quiet when night finally fell. Caleb shuffled into the kitchen, yawning, and spotted the half-finished sushi tray still sitting on the counter.

“Yeah, not risking leftovers,” he muttered, scooping it up and dumping it into the trash.

Hours later, around midnight, a sound yanked him awake.

Rattle. Rattle.

He sat up, heart pounding. The noise came from the kitchen. Slowly, he crept out of bed.

The trash can shook.

Caleb froze. The black plastic sushi tray was rattling against the sides like something inside was alive.

Then—drip… drip…

Soy sauce leaked out, thick and black, spreading across the linoleum. It trailed into letters, sharp and deliberate.

HUNGRY.

Caleb’s blood went cold.

The tray rattled again.

And the kitchen light flickered.