The faint, sugary scent of cake filled the tavern.
The candlelight flickered softly atop the counter.
For a brief moment, Homelander's eyes grew red.
Yes—today really was his birthday.
No one had remembered it.
No one had ever celebrated it.
Until now, this day had been nothing but one disaster after another.
But just before it ended, someone actually did remember.
Even if he'd only known her for a few minutes—
even if she had nearly beaten him to death—
it was enough to move him.
Enough to make him swear his loyalty to the woman who called herself Morgana.
"Th-thank you… my Queen," Homelander choked out, voice trembling.
"Go on, eat," Liang Bing said with a gentle smile. "Don't be shy."
Everyone in the tavern stared, wide-eyed.
What in the world…?
A moment ago she was trying to kill him—
and now she's giving him a birthday party?!
The Demon Dragon leaned toward Ronn, whispering,
"Boss, I think this woman's even crazier than the pervert."
Ronn chuckled quietly. "You don't understand her."
"She may call herself a demon and preach about 'decadence and freedom,'
but she cares deeply for those who truly follow her.
That cake isn't just dessert—it's her way of welcoming Homelander
into her so-called demon civilization."
The Holy Master and Rayleigh nodded thoughtfully,
each forming a new impression of this eccentric, unpredictable queen.
Liang Bing brushed a strand of hair from her forehead and grinned at Ronn.
"You know me pretty well, don't you, little guy~"
At that, something in her aura seemed to loosen—
and when Ronn glanced her way, his vision nearly went white.
Fantastic. Just fantastic.
How am I ever supposed to eat cherries again after this?
"I… I was just talking," Ronn muttered quickly,
face turning red as he forced his gaze straight ahead.
Liang Bing burst into laughter, not pressing the matter further.
Meanwhile, Tohru, still working behind the counter, blushed furiously
and tugged down the hem of her skirt again.
"Queen, uh… could the frosting be replaced with fresh milk?"
Homelander mumbled as he ate.
Before the words even finished leaving his mouth,
a massive black claw appeared out of nowhere and smacked him clean out the door.
"Damn it!" Liang Bing snapped, eyes blazing.
"Should've known better than to feel sympathy for that freak!
Why did I even recruit him in the first place?!"
Crackling with electricity, she summoned her steel whip
and strode out after him.
The moment the door closed,
the air outside filled with screams, pleas for mercy,
and the sharp sonic crack of whip-strikes.
If Ronn hadn't gone out to stop her once he sensed
Homelander's pulse getting dangerously weak,
the The Boys universe might've just lost its leading man.
Minutes later, Homelander was healed again by the Holy Master's talisman magic.
He scrambled upright, pale and trembling.
"B-boss, Your Majesty… I-I'll be going now!"
He bolted from the tavern at top speed.
No farewells, no backward glance.
Too terrifying.
For a second out there, he had genuinely thought his life was over.
"Homelander hasn't paid," Ronn said, turning to Liang Bing with a grin.
"He's your subordinate now, so the bill's yours."
"Ugh, seriously?!" Liang Bing grumbled, eyes twitching.
"So annoying…"
Then she flashed a wicked smile.
"How about I pay the same way as last time? Double the rate this round."
Ronn froze.
Last time…
His mind immediately conjured the image of that goodbye kiss.
Ah.
So that's what she meant.
"I… think we'll discuss that later," he said cautiously,
casting a quick glance toward Rem and Ram.
Liang Bing giggled and took another sip of wine,
then fell quiet, lost in thought.
The silence didn't last long.
The tavern door creaked open,
and in bounded Gray Wolf, tail wagging with excitement.
"Boss!" he called, jumping onto a stool.
"I've brought you my newest invention—Heart-Softening Spray!"
He proudly placed two small bottles of purple liquid on the counter.
"One spray, and if the target even pretends to look pitiful,
you'll melt on the spot!
No one can refuse a request after that!"
Ronn accepted the bottles and called toward the kitchen,
"Rem, Tohru—five roast lambs for Gray Wolf to take home."
"Yes, Master~" Rem's soft voice floated back from the kitchen.
At the counter, Rayleigh—perhaps because his wallet was finally empty—
surprisingly stayed quiet.
The Holy Master, however, perked up immediately.
His eyes gleamed.
If that works… could I finally get my idiot son to behave?
Just as Ronn was about to stash the bottles away,
the Holy Master hurriedly stopped him.
"Boss, could you sell me one?" he pleaded.
"I'll trade you a full Compendium of Sorcery!"
The Demon Dragon snorted. "You've lost it, old man.
That stuff's obviously useless!"
But the Holy Master ignored him, eyes burning with determination.
"Sure," Ronn said, smiling, and handed over one bottle.
The Holy Master immediately pointed it at his son's face—
Pssshh!
A fine mist sprayed out.
Feeling the droplets hit his cheek,
the Demon Dragon's temper exploded.
"Old man, are you kidding me?!
Let's go settle this in Hell!"
But instead of snapping back, the Holy Master's expression softened.
He looked pitifully at his son.
"Son… forgive me.
I haven't had it easy all these years either…"
A single tear rolled down from his crimson eye.
The Demon Dragon opened his mouth to roar again—
then suddenly, his chest tightened.
He couldn't help it. His heart ached.
"F-Father!" he cried, grabbing him in a hug.
"I'm sorry! It's me, I've been wrong! I'll listen to you from now on!"
The Holy Master's grin nearly split his face.
"Then you won't mind if I keep training that little side project?"
"I don't care anymore!"
"My good son!"
And so, two massive, terrifying monsters stood in the middle of the tavern,
weeping and hugging like long-lost family.
The sight was… hauntingly beautiful.
Rayleigh sidled up to Ronn, rubbing his hands.
"So, uh, kid… any chance I could get some of that spray?"
"No chance," Ronn said flatly. "I'm keeping the other one."
At those words, the atmosphere in the tavern changed instantly.
Rem, Ram, and Tohru all froze mid-task,
their gazes turning toward Ronn in eerie unison.
Use it?
On who, exactly?
Surely not…
that woman who kept sneaking in through the window at night?
The three exchanged glances—then nodded in silent agreement.
Something was going to have to be done about this.
Just then, Liang Bing—who had been quietly sipping her drink—
suddenly stiffened.
Her muscles tensed, her eyes narrowing dangerously.
"I smell it," she muttered.
"That wretched woman's scent…!"
Ding-a-ling…
The tavern's doorbell chimed.
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