Malavika jerked awake, the sharp sound of breaking glass slicing through the silence below her. Her eyes shot opem, darting around the dim room. She was sprawled on the floor, dressed only in an oversized white T-shirt and a pair of panties that clearly weren't hers.
The smell of smoke clung to her skin like she had walked through a industrial area. Her chest roee and fell sharply as fragments of memory flashed behibd her eyes—flames, pain, the seating heat that had devoured her entire body.
It seems I've reached my limit again…
Her hand pressed against her temple, the faint tremor in her fingers betraying exhaustion. This wasn't something new, she had endured it before. Long before her fall, before her father's cruel hand struck her down. He left behind a curse that still burned within her veins, and only one thing could ease it.
Water… I need water...
Malavika rose to her feet, her throat searing as if she had swallowed embers. Each breath scraped against her lungs. She steadied herself on the wall, moving toward the door with slow, deliberate steps. The wooden floor creaked under her bare feet as she descended the stairs, every sound amplified by the silence.
She could recall feint memories about this place, the hallway, the smell of detergent and dust.
This was where I came in last night... when I had brought myself in. I hope that mortal woman won't be heard....
From the kitchen came the faint clatter of metal—spoons, pots, and pans being shuffled. Her pulse quickened. She couldn't see anyone, only the rhythmic tinkering echoing through the house. Then, suddenly, it stopped.
Malavika's eyes narrowed, the air around her feeling heavy and dense. It was empty but she could hear the sound of sizzling and popping coming from the pan on the stove. "Someone was here..." she muttered under her breath, her voice rough and uncertain. "Or perhaps my mind plays tricks on me again."
"But.... What is that amazing scent?"
Then— a sudden "Hey!"
Jake's voice burst from behind her. Malavika spun on instinct, forming a ball of flame from the palm of her hand and hurling it before she could think of what to do.
The young man yelped, ducking for cover as the fireball moved with bliding sped, going past his head and exploding against one of the cabinets, leaving it quite scorched. The small fiery blast shook the air, heat flooding the room.
"Whoa, whoa! Hold on, it's me!" he shouted, wide-eyed. "I just bought that, y'know?"
Malavika's breath came heavy and ragged, her chest rising and falling as faint wisps of smoke curled from her fingertips. She had already prepared to summon another flame—until she stopped herself.
Her glowing eyes flickered, softening as she lowered her hand.
"Mortal? You live!" she exclaimed, a mix of surprise and disbelief in her tone.
Jake, still crouched behind the counter, blinked in confusion. "Uh… am I not supposed to?"
Her expression shifted, calm but sharp. "My flames are not to be trifled with. They devour all that they touch." She paused, her voice low, almost remorseful. "I remember my outburst from last night…"
Jake frowned slightly, scratching his head. "Right… okay then," he said uncertainly, standing upright before turning toward the stove. "Anyway, I'm, uh… making breakfast."
He grabbed a spatula, flipping something sizzling in the pan. "Fried bacon and eggs."
Malavika stared at him, disbelief painting her face. "You were nearly turned to ash, and your first thought is… food?"
Jake shrugged casually. "Well, someone's gotta eat."
Malavika looked around the kitchen. "And that mortal woman from the other day? Where has she gone too?"
"Oh, Ann?" Jake replied without looking up. "She left a couple hours ago. This house does belong to me, after all."
Finally, the meal was prepared as the sound of plates clinking filled the air around them. Jake turned off the stove, plated the food and set it on the counter, right in front of Malavika, sliding it toward her with a simple gesture.
The demoness leaned closer, her nose twitching as she sniffed on the meal. Her hand was on her chin, a curious look on her face.
"What is this?"
"Toasted bread, eggs, and bacon," he said. "Best breakfast of all time."
Malavika tilted her head slightly, her brows furrowing in deep confusion.
"Break.... Fast..." she mummured the word as if tasting it for the first time and indeed she had.
Is this food considered breakfast in this moral world? she wondered. Is that the name of the meal? But the mortal mentioned this was eggs and bacon with bread that looks… burnt?
Her glowing eyes darted from the plate and back at Jake, then back again, as if trying to unravel a strange devil type ritual.
Jake watched her, arms crossed, half amused and half curious. He couldn't hear her thoughts, but he didn't need to—her face said it all.
"You know…" he began with a smirk, leaning slightly over the counter, "I can taste the food if you're worried it's poisoned."
Malavika didn't wait for him to finish, adding any words. In one swift motion, she snatched a strip of bacon from the plate and stuffed the whole thing in her mouth.
A crunch echoed with each bite, the unfamiliar texture making her blink in surprise. Then came the oily flavour—sharp saltiness shaking her tongue, forcing her to squint.
What is this? Why is it so salty? It tastes so bad… No… wait… it's good…
The flavour began to deepen as the meat softened, melting against her tongue, the oily warmth coating her fangs. Her eyes lit up, golden pupils dilating with immeasurable delight, and her lips parted as if in revelation.
This… this food… is divine!
The demoness spun toward Jake, her expression a mixture of shock and awe with a little mix of joy. "Exquisite!" she declared, her voice booming with genuine astonishment, throwing off the young man. In a burst of excitement, she seized his hand. "This is far greater than that chocolate bar you offered before! Tell me—do you have more of these?"
Jake blinked, taken aback by her sudden enthusiasm. "Uh… well, I can make more," he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck, "but you're gonna have to finish what's on the plate first."
Malavika turned back to the remaining food, picking up a slice of toast with distaste. "I have eaten such things during my time as Queen of the underworld—with the eggs of dragons. I do not need this." Her gaze shifted back to the sizzling strips. "What I desire… is this meal… your…"
Jake raised a brow, amused by her struggle. "Bacon?"
"Aha!" Malavika snapped her fingers, her eyes gleaming. "Yes! Please, mortal—give me more of your exquisite… Ba-con!"
As if the universe itself had decided to rescue Jake Solis from losing his mind to Malavika's relentless demands, a sharp knock thundered against the front door.
Both of them froze. The sound hit like an alarm—loud, sudden, and intrusive.
"Malavika…" Jake muttered, glancing toward her. But the moment he turned, she was gone. Just like before—vanished into thin air.
He groaned under his breath. She's doing this on purpose… It was becoming a habit of hers—disappearing right when things got complicated. And somehow, Jake was sure this wouldn't be the last time.
Now alone, the young man steadied himself. His expression hardened as he turned toward the door, each step careful and deliberate. He wasn't expecting anyone, and after last night's chaos, caution felt natural.
Unbeknownst to him, Malavika had not gone far—she crouched inside a kitchen cabinet, peering through the narrow gap of the door, her curious eyes glinting in the dark.
Jake reached the front door, his hand hovering over the knob. "Who is it?" he called, his voice even but wary.
"Honey, it's Ann."
He exhaled in relief, shoulders easing. The tension left his body as he turned the knob.
Thunk!
Something struck him hard. Jake staggered back, blinking in confusion. The door swung open on its own. Of course—it was locked, but Ann always carried a spare key. She never waited for permission.
Only… this wasn't Ann.
Standing in the doorway was a woman dressed in skin-tight tactical gear, every curve outlined by dark fabric. Her presence screamed danger—a hero, perhaps, or more likely, a vigilante.
Jake's relief evaporated instantly. If Ann wasn't here… then this could only mean one thing.
A mimic.
His eyes narrowed. "Amanda Fichter…" he muttered.
The woman's lips curled into a sly grin. Her hair was perfectly styled, her eyes glinting with that familiar arrogance. "Well, well, if it isn't Jake Solis," she said, her tone dripping with mock amusement. "One of our finest vigilante heroes. How have you been?"
Amanda leaned casually against the doorway, her gaze sharp and teasing as she looked down at him, delight dancing in her squinted eyes, behind her were a group of men armed with special gear and weapons ready to face my punishment.