Chapter 135: The Trinity of Hell and the Shadow of the Loose Cannon
The silence in the Dimensional Restaurant was not empty; it was heavy, suffocating, and thick with unsaid truths.
Harley Quinn sat frozen in her chair, her mismatched eyes darting between the silver-haired woman and the white-haired girl. Her mouth, usually a machine gun of jokes and manic laughter, was clamped shut.
She wanted to retort. She wanted to scream that they were wrong, that Mr. J loved her, that their "mad love" was something these normies couldn't understand. But the words died in her throat. Because deep down, in the dark corners of her mind where the chemicals didn't reach, she knew.
She knew a King doesn't leave his Queen in a cage.
Lucifer looked at the woman, observing the internal collapse of her delusions. There was no triumph in the Demon Queen's eyes, only a quiet, ancient understanding. She had seen countless souls lie to themselves; it was the most common sin of all.
She didn't press the attack. She had cleared the dungeon; there was no need to spawn-camp the boss.
"Ren is taking his time," Lucifer said softly, breaking the tension. She shifted her gaze away from Harley, giving the clown girl a moment to breathe.
Beside her, Cerberus's ears twitched. The heavy atmosphere made her skin itch. She preferred chaos, yes, but fun chaos, not this depressing, psychological trauma kind of chaos.
"Eh?" Cerberus chirped, seizing the distraction. "Lucifer! Lucifer! Did Master say what he's making for breakfast? Is it meat? It smells like ham!"
Lucifer shook her head, a small, elegant smile returning to her lips. "No need to rush. Yumiko is still sleeping upstairs, and Ren is currently preparing the guest's order. Besides... if you're hungry, there's a lemon tart left. Why don't you eat that first?"
Cerberus's eyes lit up. "Tart!"
She grabbed the spoon with the enthusiasm of a starving wolf. The depressing mood was instantly forgotten as she dove into the dessert.
Harley watched this interaction, her brain slowly rebooting. The domestic normalcy of it—the "Master," the breakfast talk, the tart—clashed violently with the magical door and the dimensional travel.
"Lucifer? Cerberus?"
Harley finally spoke, her voice raspy. She let out a dry, nervous chuckle.
"Those are some... heavy metal stage names, sisters. What, are you guys in a goth band? ' The Fallen Angel and the Hellhound'? Catchy. I like it."
Lucifer stopped scrolling on her phone. She looked up, her crimson eyes locking onto Harley's.
"Interesting?" Lucifer tilted her head. "Why do you find it interesting?"
"Duh," Harley waved a hand, some of her usual sass returning. "Because you named yourselves after the Big Bad Boss of Hell and his three-headed pooch. It's bold! I respect the branding. Most girls go for 'Ivy' or 'Cat' or 'Canary'. You guys went straight for biblical apocalypse."
Lucifer blinked. "Is it that surprising? And to correct you... we didn't name ourselves after them."
She smiled, a slow, terrifyingly polite expression.
"We are them."
Harley's smile froze. It didn't fade; it just stopped working, like a video buffer glitch. She stared at the two women. She looked at the modern clothes, the smartphone, the lemon tart.
"Ha," Harley deadpanned. She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. "Okay! Joke's over! That's not funny, Blondie!"
"You seem afraid," Lucifer observed, her tone conversational. "Are you afraid of Hell?"
"Of course I'm afraid of Hell!" Harley shouted, throwing her hands up. "Do you have any idea how many people I've... un-alived? Every bastard in my line of work is scared of the downstairs furnace! So don't mess with me! If you're trying to scare me, congratulations! Gold star!"
Cerberus paused mid-bite, a crumb of crust on her cheek. She looked at Lucifer.
"Lucifer, Lucifer, Lucifer," Cerberus mumbled with her mouth full. "Why doesn't the colorful lady believe us? Are we not scary enough?"
"Humans are skeptical creatures," Lucifer sighed, wiping a speck of dust from her sleeve. "Although what she said about fear is valid... I regret to inform you, Miss Quinn, that we are not role-playing."
"We are exactly who you imagine us to be."
Harley took a step back. "Yeah, right. Prove it. Where's the pitchfork? Where's the fire?"
Lucifer didn't answer. She simply closed her eyes.
Whoosh.
The air pressure in the room dropped. A faint scent of sulfur and ozone manifested from nowhere.
From the base of Lucifer's spine, hidden beneath her clothes until now, a long, sinuous tail materialized. It wasn't a costume prop. It moved with fluid, muscular grace, the white tip flicking back and forth like a metronome counting down to judgment day.
Harley's eyes bulged. "Wait... wait, wait, wait..."
She pointed a trembling finger at Cerberus. "Never mind why you're hot chicks... but if you're the dog... where are the heads? The legend says three heads! You've only got one! False advertising!"
Cerberus swallowed her tart. She grinned, revealing canines that were slightly too sharp for a human.
"Oh! You want to see the others?"
Cerberus sniffed the air.
Pop. Pop.
There was no smoke bomb. No mirror trick. One moment, there was one girl. The next moment, reality seemed to stutter, and two identical copies of Cerberus stepped out from behind the first one.
They didn't just appear; they moved independently. One leaned left, one leaned right, and the center one crossed her arms.
"See?" Lucifer gestured gracefully with her hand. "We just prefer human forms. It saves on doorframe repairs."
Harley Quinn looked at the scene before her.
A Fallen Angel with a moving tail.
Three identical demon girls who were definitely not holograms.
The color drained from her face completely.
"Oh my god," Harley whispered, clutching her chest. "I'm dead. That's it. I died in the explosion, didn't I? This isn't a restaurant. This is the waiting room. I told them! I told them I wasn't crazy!"
She started hyperventilating. "I confessed! I just told you everything! The chemicals! The riots! I confessed to the literal Devil! I'm going down! Is there an express elevator? Is it hot?"
Lucifer chuckled, the sound like wind chimes in a graveyard.
"Relax," she said soothingly. "We are currently off the clock. And besides... you fall under a different jurisdiction. Your universe has its own Hell. You're safe here."
Harley paused. She blinked. "I'm... safe?"
"As long as you pay your bill," Lucifer added with a smirk.
Harley let out a breath she had been holding for a solid minute. Her legs gave out, and she slumped back into her chair. Then, the fear began to mutate into something else. Something quintessentially Harley.
Her eyes sparkled.
"Un-believable!" she squealed, leaning over the table. "I'm having brunch with the Devil and the Hellhound! And you guys are totally different from the fanfiction! Look at you!"
She pointed at the Cerberus triplets. "Are Hellhounds always this cute?! Can I pet you? Do you bite? Do you have three stomachs?"
The three Cerberuses ignored her completely. Their attention had returned to the more important matter: the lemon tart.
"It definitely wasn't made by Master," the Left Cerberus whispered, licking the spoon. "The crust is too crumbly."
"It lacks the Soul Essence," the Right Cerberus agreed.
"Still good though," the Center Cerberus concluded.
"Mmm-hmm!" The chorus of agreement was eerie yet adorable.
Lucifer's eye twitched. "I made that," she hissed, her pride slightly bruised. "Be grateful."
"Oh~" The triplets responded in unison, their tone entirely flat.
Just as Lucifer was about to lecture her subordinates on respecting their Queen's culinary efforts, the curtain to the kitchen parted.
Swoosh.
Ren stepped out.
In his hands, he carried a tray containing the steaming mug of coffee and the golden, sugar-dusted Monte Cristo sandwich.
"Order up," Ren announced.
Zip.
The moment Ren appeared, Lucifer's tail vanished. It didn't fade; she retracted it with the speed of light, hiding it away physically and magically.
She sat up straight, smoothing her skirt, looking the picture of innocent elegance.
She absolutely could not let that man see her tail.
The apron incident earlier had been embarrassing enough. If he saw her tail—an erogenous zone for demons and a symbol of her true nature—she felt like she would lose some crucial ground in their relationship. Or worse, he might try to cook something for it.
Ren walked into the dining area, his eyes focused on the guest. But as he approached, his steps faltered slightly.
He blinked.
"Eh?"
Ren looked at the table where Cerberus had been sitting.
Instead of one girl with white ears, there were now three. Identical. All holding spoons. All looking at him with big, puppy-dog eyes.
"How did Cerberus turn into three people?" Ren asked, genuinely surprised. "Usually, she maintains the single-body form to conserve energy."
The three Cerberuses looked up. Their tails (which were out and wagging furiously) thumped against the chairs in a chaotic rhythm.
"MASTER!"
The word didn't come from one mouth. It was a tri-phonic harmony, a perfect chorus of excitement that rang through the shop.
Ren composed himself quickly. He was the owner of a Dimensional Restaurant; adaptation was his strongest skill. He nodded, placed the coffee and sandwich in front of Harley, and then walked over to the triplets.
He looked down at them. They looked up at him.
"So," Ren asked, scratching his cheek. "Which one of you is the... 'primary' one today?"
The Cerberus on the left pointed to the middle.
The Cerberus on the right pointed to the middle.
The Cerberus in the middle puffed out her chest proudly.
"I see," Ren smiled. He reached out and patted the middle Cerberus's head. Then, not wanting to be unfair, he patted the left, and then the right. It was a flurry of head-pats.
"You really are a handful," Ren chuckled. "Alright. Since there are three of you now, one lemon tart isn't going to cut it. Do you want something to eat?"
The three pairs of eyes sparkled with a terrifying, synchronized gluttony.
"BRAISED PORK!"
They shouted it like a battle cry.
Ren laughed, shaking his head. "Denied. That's too heavy for breakfast, and I don't have enough prepared. Try again."
The three Cerberuses slumped in unison.
"Hmm... I don't know!" they chorused.
Ren smiled gently. "Alright. I'll whip up something quick. Pancakes? Soufflé pancakes? Light, fluffy, and plenty of syrup."
"PANCAKES!" The cheering was deafening.
"Lucifer?" Ren turned to the silver-haired woman who was pretending to be very interested in the wood grain of the table. "Same for you?"
"Mm!" Lucifer nodded quickly, not meeting his eyes, terrified her tail might betray her.
Ren nodded and turned back to the kitchen.
Harley Quinn sat there, her Monte Cristo sandwich halfway to her mouth. She had watched the entire interaction with her jaw unhinged.
"Hey!" Harley called out as Ren reached the kitchen door. "Who... who is that guy?"
She pointed a finger at Ren's retreating back.
"You're the Devil. You're the Hellhound. You guys are literal monsters. Why... why are you so obedient to him? Is he a Super Demon? A Warlock?"
The three Cerberuses turned to her. They tilted their heads in perfect sync.
"He is Master!" they declared, as if that explained the secrets of the universe.
Lucifer looked up from her phone. She glanced at Ren's back, a softness entering her eyes that she would never admit to.
"Partner," she corrected softly. "He is our Partner."
Harley Quinn froze.
Master. Partner.
She looked at the warm interaction. She looked at the way Ren had patted their heads—not with ownership, but with affection. She looked at how Lucifer, the Queen of Hell, looked at him—not with fear, but with trust.
Her eyes drifted to the kitchen door, filled with a mixture of disbelief and a sudden, sharp pang of jealousy.
"Partner..." she whispered.
She looked down at her coffee. The heart in the foam was still intact.
She picked up the mug and took a sip.
It was... perfection.
The rich, dark roast of the beans hit her tongue first, immediately mellowed by the creamy, velvety texture of the high-fat milk. The sugar was minimal, just as she asked, allowing the natural caramel notes of the espresso to shine through.
It warmed her chest. It warmed her hands.
"Hmm..." Harley closed her eyes, a genuine sigh escaping her lips. "Perfect. Hand-ground. Just like... no, better."
Better than anything she had in Gotham. Better than the stale sludge at the hideout.
For the first time in years, the noise in her head quieted down. She wasn't thinking about the Joker. She wasn't thinking about the Bats. She was just... drinking coffee.
Lucifer didn't continue the conversation. She sat next to the Cerberus triplets, scrolling through her phone, occasionally showing them a meme. The triplets would giggle in stereo.
Harley watched them. She ate her sandwich in silence, the sweet and savory flavors dancing on her tongue. She looked peaceful. For a moment, she wasn't the Clown Princess of Crime. She was just a girl having breakfast.
Inside the kitchen, Ren was whisking egg whites for the soufflé pancakes. The rhythmic clack-clack-clack of the whisk filled the small space.
He paused for a moment, glancing through the gap in the curtains at the colorful, chaotic guest sitting in his dining room.
He noted the blue and pink pigtails. The manic energy that barely concealed a deep well of trauma. The chaotic attachment style.
A memory surfaced from his knowledge of the other worlds.
"Blue hair. Chaos. Guns. Issues with abandonment..."
Ren murmured to himself, cracking another egg.
"She really is very similar to that girl... Jinx."
[Akarin's Note: Jinx, from League of Legends / Arcane, previously appeared in Chapter 8. Ren is noting the archetype similarities between the two chaotic, blue-haired, trauma-bonded characters.]
[Akarin Note:
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