The dark space between the worlds was not itself today. Usually a quiet, silent, peaceful place where the eternal, unshakable Light and the bottomless, all-consuming Darkness clashed in an endless battle, today this place was trembling. The harmony had been shattered—and not by the usual inhabitants of these parts, but by a third sentient being, the only one capable of entering here unhindered.
And right now, this being was furious.
"HOW?!? No, I understand everything perfectly well, but how the fuck?!?" A green-eyed dark-haired man in practical brown medieval clothing, draped in a dark travel cloak, paced across a non-existent floor. He strode back and forth in front of two demiurges—the creators of this and many other worlds—and yelled furiously, making no attempt to hide his extreme displeasure. "I get that it's your business," he jabbed a finger at one of his companions, "and you built the world according to your own blueprints, but... GOING TO HELL FOR DROPPING A CANDY WRAPPER ON THE STREET?! ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?!?!?"
"I didn't... I, ahem, didn't exactly set the initial parameters correctly..." the man replied, looking away. His face lacked eyes entirely... but four of them were hovering right next to it. Huge eyes, shining with pure Light, awkwardly squinted sideways, trying their hardest to ignore the blazing figure of the green-eyed man.
"'PARAMETERS'?!? Did you ever think to use your fucking head?" The dark-haired man stopped and grabbed his head. "Because of your idiotic, centuries-old bet and your 'rules,' you can't even fix this shit now! Why the hell didn't you teach your kids how to do it?! Why the hell do they know JACK SHIT about how your fucked-up mechanism works—the one that decides who goes to Hell and who goes to Heaven?!"
"Stop yelling already," a red-eyed girl grimaced, clearly reluctant to tear herself away from something highly interesting on her smartphone. She sat with her legs crossed on a dark, spiked throne floating in the void. "And besides, what do you mean 'idiotic bet'? It was important to us. Don't you dare invalidate other people's feelings!"
"THE SERAPHIM DON'T EVEN UNDERSTAND WHAT FUCKING CRITERIA ARE USED TO SORT SOULS!!!!" The green-eyed man continued to rage, completely ignoring Ruu, the Root of All Evil. "When I first found out about this shit, I thought I was gonna hang myself on the spot from the cosmic stupidity of it all! But now... digging deeper into it, I realize it's not even stupidity! It's a complete, utter CLUSTERFUCK!"
"Yeah, I made a mistake, I messed up, who doesn't?" God winced in annoyance, covering his eyeless face with his palm. His hovering eyes dimmed guiltily. "In the next iteration, I'll definitely fix this... ahem... bug..."
"There won't be any 'next iteration,'" the green-eyed man sighed heavily. He conjured a comfortable, soft armchair out of the void and collapsed into it exhaustedly. His rage gave way to endless fatigue. "Your struggle hasn't been fueled by that all-consuming hatred for a long time now. Tell me," he looked at Ruu, "what is the point of continuing this stupid war if you're no longer sworn enemies? You just sit here and discuss everything like old pals!"
"We want to see who was right in the end," the girl replied, putting her smartphone down. A hint of boredom slipped into her voice. "Dozens of attempts and thousands of cycles still haven't resolved our dispute. From the looks of it, this attempt won't work either... And it's all because of the stupid, idiotic rules introduced by this Light-lover right here!" She pointed an elegant little finger at God.
"Without those rules, everything would have ended eleven thousand years ago when my idiots let your Darkness into the world I created!" God immediately shot back.
"See! Even they—your highly praised creations—did it! So how can you still claim that we must build our shared Home exclusively out of your boring, sterile Light?!"
"And the fact that 'my creations,' corrupted by your Darkness, lost to pure Light every single fucking time—why do you conveniently ignore that? Darkness is too detrimental to the overall stability of the system! It's much easier for Light to be static and predictable!"
"Can you two just stop?" The green-eyed man rubbed his face hard, listening to yet another bickering match between two enemies who had seemingly long lost their original desire to kill each other and were now just arguing out of habit. "Buddy," he looked at God, "I'm asking you, man to man: let Adam fix your mess. I am just shocked by how much he's changed since he ended up in your sandbox. And to be honest, I really want to see where all this leads in the end. Judging by what you told me earlier, you're amused by this too, aren't you?"
"Oh, screw you!" Ruu whined petulantly, dramatically pouting her lips. "It's all your fault! You gave me the strongest Dark soul you could possibly create! And because of him," the girl poked her finger at God again, "that soul somehow managed to become almost entirely Light! That's not fair! You rigged the rules!"
"Everything was strictly by the rules, my dear," God allowed himself a slight, smug smile. "I didn't interfere when you actively helped all those poor bastards infected by Darkness to finally choose the Dark path, did I? So I had nothing to do with this either."
"Why I oughta—!"
"ENOUGH!" The green-eyed man gripped the armrests of his chair tightly, trying to calm down. He was genuinely, down to his very core, sick and tired of listening to the eternal squabbles of these two lovesick idiots, whose perception of reality differed so wildly from his own. "Do we have a deal? Yes or no?"
Silence fell. Ruu snorted pointedly, pursed her lips, and went back to her smartphone.
"If he can defeat my chosen one... then yes..." she replied without taking her eyes off the screen.
"I don't mind," God nodded calmly, materializing a newspaper in his hands and immediately beginning to study it with interest. "As long as none of this harms the Light."
"Wonderful," the green-eyed man pushed himself out of the chair with relief, and the furniture instantly melted back into the void. "I'm outta here... going to go get some decent coffee at least. Dealing with you two takes a toll on the nerves..."
He took a step and simply dissolved into space, leaving the two eternal opponents alone with their drawn-out dispute...
The flight didn't take long, and the big wolf, to his credit, didn't even show much fear about the fact that he was, you know, flying a couple of hundred meters above the ground. Let me remind you, demons born in Hell, unlike sinners, are not immortal, and if I wanted to, Vortex would simply crash to his death... So yeah, for some inexplicable reason, they actually trust me here.
Either all demons are completely unhinged and respect someone who slaughtered their ancestors in a war a couple of thousand years ago, or it's specifically a hellhound thing... Hmm, actually, because of their incredible sensitivity and instincts, they might seriously be reacting this way to some special qualities of mine, though I have no idea which ones...
Alright, let's leave those thoughts for later; right now, it's the meeting with Beelzebub...
"Um, Mr. Adam..." Vortex began, looking down.
"Hmm?" I shift my gaze to him.
"We should, like, be going down already..."
"Oh, sorry, I zoned out." Well, what can I say in my defense? Flying is just fucking awesome! I've known this feeling for half a year now and still can't get enough of it—every "trip to the sky" is like a little personal holiday for me.
Looking closely, I notice the exact same giant mansion where I calmed Loona down last time. Right now, as always, it seemed a party was in full swing—dozens, if not hundreds, of hellhounds and other demons were getting drunk, dancing, and having fun in every way available to them in the courtyard.
Looking at them, you immediately grasp the fundamental difference between sinners and native demons. If it were sinners in their place, everything would have long ago turned into a bloody orgy, combined with senseless slaughter and multiplied by a drug den... Here, things were within relative limits of normalcy—a standard, loud, boozy party, like in those teen movies and shows about 'Murica.
We landed smoothly at the entrance, and I released Vortex from the telekinetic grip, letting him enjoy the presence of a solid floor under his feet. He, in turn, breathed a sigh of relief—after all, flying via the telekinesis of some strange guy, and an Archangel no less, was clearly quite stressful for him.
"Bee should be inside," the wolf nodded toward the buzzing building, not paying much attention to the crowd that had started whispering and pointing fingers upon noticing us. "Let's go."
I follow him, similarly ignoring the murmurs of the bystanders. And if outside it looked like just a big party, inside it was a genuine hellish den of iniquity in the best sense of the word!
Neon lights hit the eyes, forcing pupils to constrict, and a deafening beat shook the walls. The air was thick, sticky, smelling of honey, alcohol, and cotton candy. Rivers of some glowing yellow liquid flowed down special chutes along the walls, pouring right into the glasses and cups the demons held out.
I see a lot has changed here over the last couple of months...
Vortex confidently led me through the pulsating crowd, which obediently parted before him. We went up a spiral staircase to the second floor, where, to my considerable surprise, it was quite quiet—the hosts had clearly taken care to somehow shield this place from the deafening noise downstairs. The second floor no longer looked like a nightclub on steroids, but rather a quite cozy loft-style living space: a long, wide corridor-living room with doors in various spots leading, logically, to bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchens, and so on.
"Cozy," I note, shamelessly and curiously looking around the room.
"Bee likes more than just loud parties," the wolf replied with a warm smirk, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. "She should be here any minute. Have a seat," Vortex pointed to a bright orange armchair in front of a small black table, the center of which was made of some bizarre glass full of multicolored, shimmering hues. In my old world, they called this "modern art," I think.
"By the way, why did you switch to being so formal?" I ask the wolf, plopping down onto the sofa opposite him. The sofa was top-notch—soft and comfortable, but not a "cloud" you completely sink into. Very comfortable; we have almost the exact same one in our living room in Heaven... Although back there, it's more of a lounge than a living room... Whatever, I'll need to google the exact definitions of those words later, I keep mixing them up.
"Well..." Vortex hesitated a bit. "At first, I kinda shit my pants that the Butcher of Heaven himself flew over to see my girlfriend, but then I thought about it and decided it was probably better to be 'diplomatic'... Not doing a great job at it, huh?"
"Something like that," I smirk. "Did you happen to start thinking about 'diplomacy' when I was escorting you here through the sky? Listen, I don't care about words. If some idiot tries to throw wrenches in my plans while kissing my ass with pretty speeches, it won't fucking help him. So don't try so hard, just be yourself."
"Phew, alright then," Vortex exhaled with obvious relief, sitting in the armchair opposite. "By the way, are you going to tell me why you came? Bee trusts me anyway and will tell me everything after your talk, it's just... I'm a little worried about her," the male hellhound honestly explained... male hellhound... Fuck, what a retarded combination of words. Couldn't Beelzebub just call them "Werewolves" or something? It would be both simpler and more badass.
"Then why don't you stay during our conversation?" I suggest. I really have nothing to hide from him, and his presence might even calm Queen Bee down a bit.
"Yeah... well... I don't want to get in the way," he somewhat deflated, lowering his ears and looking away. "I'm just a regular demon, so... I don't want to embarrass my girl with my stupidity in front of... well, you."
"Very... honest," I replied, a little... alright, completely fucking amazed, looking at Vortex with undisguised astonishment. In the cartoon, he was shown as a decent guy, but in reality, he turned out to be a real "bro." Absolutely no rottenness, honest and loyal. At this point, I'm not even surprised that Beelzebub herself is hooking up with him.
"Yeah, a bit," Vortex replied with an awkward smile. "Just nervous..."
At that very moment, I feel a strong, thick, but at the same time somehow... sweet(?) Dark aura coming up the stairs. Looks like Beelzebub has finally arrived.
"Well, well! What a surprise! Archangel Adam himself decided to grace my humble little party! What brings you here, handsome? Came to ruin all our fun?" a familiar, energetic voice rang out. The Sin of Gluttony was exactly as I remembered her: bright, looking like a hybrid between a bee and a fox, with a perpetual wide smile on her face. She walked closer and, ignoring me, plopped down onto Vortex's lap, throwing her arms around his neck. "Vorty, sweetie! I hope no one here was bullying you?" She delivered that last line while throwing a quick, sharp look at me, containing a hint of hidden threat.
"No, Bee, everything's fine," Vortex immediately protested, hugging her back. "Adam was very tactful bringing me here, don't worry."
"Alright then, let's get serious," Beelzebub immediately adopted a more composed look, climbing off the wolf's lap and sitting next to him on the sofa's armrest. She seemed to calm down, convinced that no one had actually hurt her boyfriend. "When Vorty called and said you wanted to 'ask' me for a meeting... Honestly? If Vortex hadn't told me personally, I would never have believed it in a million years."
"So," I decided not to drag things out, "I think you remember what I asked of you, the Deadly Sins, last time..."
"To play mommies and daddies for some secret persona of yours?" she snorted. "Honestly, I still don't understand why you needed that, but since Lucifer himself agreed, I couldn't refuse. Plus, admittedly, it sounds pretty funny—the Seven Deadly Sins, foster parents to Archangel Adam, pfft!"
"Yeah," I nod. "And moreover, you're already familiar with this persona."
I snapped my fingers, and my appearance shifted for a moment—the golden halo and wings vanished, my clothes changed into a dark suit, and my face became like Baal's.
"Familiar?" Beelzebub dragged out in surprise, carefully looking me up and down. "Mmm... Oh, right! You're that cocky guy who managed to beat me in the cooking battle! Ha!"
"Something like that," I reverted to my true form. "And, in case you forgot, you owe him a small favor..."
"Get to the point, handsome," her smile grew more cunning. "I'm warning you right now: I am not sleeping with you. At least, not while Vorty is here." Lifting her chin, the... bee-fox declared.
"What..."
"The..."
"FUCK?!" Vortex and I blurted out simultaneously, staring at Bee with completely dumbfounded looks.
"Well, he just isn't into that sort of thing," she calmly explained to the wolf, "and I don't want to hurt my boy."
"No, no, hold on!" I start hurriedly, throwing my hands up in a defensive gesture. "Why the fuck did you even think I came for that?!"
"Well, you're Adam..." she stated it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, innocently raising an eyebrow. "Lucifer mentioned once that you're a sex-crazed idiot with a gigantic ego who fucks literally everything that moves. So I figured..."
"..." I silently processed what I just heard, feeling the blood rush to my face. Lucifer, you bitch, I'm going to get you... "And how long ago did he tell you this?"
"Oh, I don't even know, really," Beelzebub drawled thoughtfully, tapping her chin with a finger. "Like 10 or 11 thousand years ago, probably..."
Alright. Deep breath. Castrating the Lord of Hell is off the table—we weren't exactly on the best of terms back then, to put it mildly... But now I am absolutely obligated to get back at him in some lighter way! So, is this why so many demons treat me so... normally? Because I'm a walking fucking symbol of sex and depravity here?! It's a miracle that Asmodeus and all those incubi and succubi aren't praying to me yet, given such powerful PR from the King of Hell himself... Fuck, this is so embarrassing!
"Fucking hell," was all I could squeeze out, covering my face with my hand. "Listen, Bee. I'm here for a different, much more serious reason."
"Hmm, well that's wonderful!" the "bee" smiled slyly, which made me seriously suspect her of first-degree, hardcore trolling.
"I would like your promise to help in the event of an attack on Heaven," I decided to cut straight to the chase, getting serious. "That general promise you all gave at the trial isn't enough for me. I want to be sure that you personally will give it your all when the time comes."
"Hmm... You don't mess around with trivial stuff, do you, Archangel?" Beelzebub frowned as well, her playfulness completely vanishing. "Honestly, I was never planning to 'slack off'. Lucifer is both a father and an older brother to all of us. And even though Heaven is far from being our friend, not a single Deadly Sin wants to see its total destruction... At least, not unless it's destroyed by our own hands. And even then, besides... Well, out of the currently living Deadly Sins, nobody even wants that outcome."
"Wonderful," I felt relieved. "Actually, that's all I wanted to hear from you. In a little while, you'll all be given a special device that will blink red in case Heaven is attacked. It will also have a button you can press to send a return signal if Hell is attacked. It will be impossible to jam this 'signal', so you don't need to worry about that," I explained.
"Hmm, well okay, if that's all..."
"Yeah, thanks for your honest answer," I nod. "See you later then, Vort..." I had already started to say goodbye and get up from the sofa, but I was unceremoniously interrupted.
"...If that's all, then I invite you to come hang out at my party!" Beelzebub finished joyfully.
"Well, actually, I wanted to visit all the Deadly Sins today, so..." I try to politely brush her off.
"Oh, don't worry about it! I'll call them all myself and warn them you're on your way!" The Queen Bee jumped up from the sofa, grabbed my hand, and firmly pulled me toward the stairs. "You need to relax and have a little fun right now! Come on, come on, don't be such a party pooper!"
"Um..." I cast a pleading glance at Vortex, but he just threw his hands up and sympathetically shook his head, as if to say, "Buddy, I'm powerless here, you're on your own dealing with her."
"...Only a little bit, maybe..."
Ahem. "A little bit" means A LITTLE BIT! I didn't succumb to her charm and, after a thirty-minute express session of "getting acquainted" with all her closest "boyfriends and girlfriends" and downing one glass of some honey booze (which was quite tasty, I have to admit), I finally rode off into the sunset.
I can't say that even this time was entirely wasted—I did lift my spirits a bit and, more importantly, finally convinced myself of this sly fox's sincerity. Even before, I considered Beelzebub to be just about the most pleasant and reasonable representative of the Deadly Sins (after Lucifer, of course). The only gripe I had was maybe with her name, but that's water under the bridge now, and the influence of that fuckwit who used to live in my head back then.
The very first conversation went surprisingly smoothly and gave me more enthusiasm and confidence in the success of my mission. In that stupid cartoon, the Deadly Sins were portrayed as far from evil villains. And in this reality, too, they were mostly just highly "eccentric personalities" with their own quirks, but certainly not my enemies. At least, not after that ancient war started by the previous Sin of Pride...
After Beelzebub, I decided to head where I originally intended to go—to Satan. His sanctuary was located in the very heart of the Wrath Ring, specifically inside a massive, smoking volcano-mountain that had been furnished on the inside like a five-star hotel, according to Bee. And this "hotel" housed not only Satan himself but also a multitude of his imp servants.
The Wrath Ring immediately stretched out before me—a harsh, scorched land that looked like it had stepped right off the screen of an old Wild West or Mad Max movie. The desert of cracked red clay extending to the horizon seemed almost lifeless, but it was precisely in this harsh monotony that its own special, grim beauty lay hidden: rugged, majestic canyon mountains towered over the cracked sands, and between them, rare dark spots revealed clusters of some hellish vegetation trying to cling to life even in these seemingly unbearable, infernal conditions.
A sky hung over all this splendor, surprisingly calm for such a menacing place. The gentle, pinkish hue of the heavens somehow softened the overall harshness of the landscape, and the light, fluffy pink clouds seemed almost out of place in this realm of fire. After the neon, eye-straining crimson glow of the Pride Ring, a sky like this actually seemed beautiful to me.
But this deceptive quiet of the Wrath Ring hid its true, furious essence. Here, the weather could turn into an absolute nightmare at any moment: lava storms, acid rain, and other deadly whims of the local elements were a customary part of existence. The numerous Goetia demons living here protected the local imp population from all this, and yet, even amidst all these dangers, the landscape had its own inexplicable appeal—wild, harsh, but incredibly beautiful in its own way.
In the distance, among the giant massifs of black stone, a huge, smoking volcano-mountain clearly stood out. It was in its depths that Satan's sanctuary was hidden: a majestic symbol of his indestructible power.
Finding this volcano-castle was surprisingly easy—not only did I roughly know where it was anyway, but I could now use hellish maps for it, so my search didn't last long. Touching down in front of the massive gates of pure obsidian, standing several dozen meters high, I noticed another, much more modest entrance in the volcano's wall—a completely ordinary door. Moreover, there were no guards or anything of the sort around... Damn, maybe I should have called the Sins myself first? Showing up uninvited like this...
I knocked hesitantly on the ordinary door and, literally a second later, it was opened by a small imp butler, looking like some dwarf old man in a perfectly pressed tailcoat and a monocle over his eye.
"Greetings, Lord Adam. The Master has already been informed of your arrival. Please, be so kind as to proceed to the reception room." The imp bowed deeply and stepped aside to let me pass.
"Okay..." A bit taken aback by such a reception, I walked inside. The imp immediately closed the door behind me and scurried down the corridor, and I followed him in silence.
The corridor I entered turned out to be so... ordinary, that it actually felt jarring against the usual hellish aesthetic around here. No rivers of lava, no hellfire instead of lamps. There weren't even the cliché skulls hanging on the walls that, in theory, absolutely should be in any normal lair belonging to Satan himself. Instead, it was just the most default, boring, even mundane corridor you could easily find in a nice, expensive office center. Except that the ceilings here were much higher than normal, as if designed for guys the size of a small delivery truck walking through periodically. Yeah, that's my tactful way of hinting at Satan's height.
The walls were smooth, painted in a light, warm, beige hue, as if someone decided, "Hell is Hell, but let's skip the unnecessary gloom." A few paintings hung on them... and, honestly, I didn't even immediately grasp what was depicted in them. Something very abstract, lots of sharp lines, lots of movement, but it all looked more like an interior designer's attempt to liven up a boring space rather than actual works of art. Yeah, I don't really get that kind of stuff, but to each their own, as they say.
The floor was laid with dark, matte stone in neat little tiles. You take a step, and it feels like your footsteps echo throughout the entire building, even though the corridor itself was filled with an amazing, almost unnatural silence. Doors lined both sides of this corridor. Ordinary wooden doors, and not made of the local "black hellish wood" known as hellwood, but completely human, dark-brown wood. Modest plaques hung on some of them: "Pantry," "Waiting Room," "Massage Parlor," "Laundry," "Mud Room"...
Seriously? They set aside a whole, separate room for mud, just so it could hang out in there instead of settling evenly throughout the building? That's just me joking, yeah...
I continued following the imp butler in silence; he moved surprisingly briskly and almost noiselessly, despite his obvious external old age and short legs. My steps, however, echoed down the corridor as if I were hauling at least eleven heavy suitcases at once. Sometimes muffled sounds drifted from behind a door—someone's laugh, a quiet hum of voices. Apparently, these were some kind of living quarters for the local staff. One door was left slightly ajar, and I caught a fleeting glimpse of a small break room—soft, comfortable chairs, a small bar in the corner, and a couple of imps enthusiastically playing cards, paying us no mind whatsoever.
In short, Satan's "reception" turned out to be far less gloomy and pretentious than one might expect from the abode of the Sin of Wrath. It felt more like an expensive hotel or a premium-class resort. I kept walking, and honestly, the further we went, the stronger the feeling grew within me that Satan himself had personally had a hand in the layout and design of all this. Moreover, this feeling was based on absolutely nothing, just some inner certainty... But, whatever the case, everything here looked... surprisingly peaceful and even cozy.
"Please, Lord Adam," the imp finally spoke as we entered one of the last rooms in this corridor. It stood out with an even higher ceiling, a soft, fluffy carpet on the floor, and... well, let's just say a very "unconventional" set of items for the waiting room of the Deadly Sin of Wrath himself. The imp made an inviting gesture, while I, meanwhile, tried to digest everything I was seeing.
This waiting room looked as if someone had decided to mix a respectable library, a modern gaming room, and the collection of an avid geek-fanboy of everything in the world, all into one bottle. Massive dark wood bookshelves with neatly polished glass doors lined the perimeter. Inside were books, books, and more books. And not just books: old, battered leather-bound tomes, modern glossy editions, various technical manuals, encyclopedias, a couple of volumes of world classics, and several thick, intimidating grimoires, some of which glowed softly, giving away their dark, magical nature.
But the most sudden and shocking thing was something else—right next to all these serious, magical works, resting completely calmly and harmoniously, was manga. And a lot of manga. Entire fucking collections: neatly arranged hardback collector's editions, standard black-and-white prints, multicolored spines taking up entire rows on the shelves. I even caught a glimpse of a couple of painfully familiar titles... and a couple that, in theory, had never been released in the human world due to the untimely deaths of their authors... It seemed Satan was a true connoisseur.
A separate section of shelves was completely dedicated to figurines: highly detailed characters from games, popular anime, heroes from universes unknown to me, and even a couple of miniatures of some demons in rather funny and ridiculous poses. Some of them stood behind glass like particularly valuable exhibits, while others were left out in the open. Apparently, you could even pick them up, if you had the audacity for such a thing, of course. One, by the way, was life-sized—a huge, terrifying statue of some knight in heavy, black armor, gripping a massive two-handed sword as big as he was...
In the very center of the room sat a low coffee table, and in front of it were two soft, comfortable armchairs and an absolutely massive red sofa that could easily fit a whole group of imps. Some magazines, a remote, and a couple of gamepads lay on the table. A little further away, against the wall, stood a gigantic plasma screen, and underneath it, a cabinet packed to the brim with game cases, along with some modern console tangled in a bunch of devices connected to it. It looked like the Sin of Wrath liked to relax like a human. Or was all this prepared for guests?... Although, knowing Satan a bit better now, I could safely say that he himself could spend hours on end glued to some fighting game or RPG.
In the corner of the room, a small fridge stood modestly, and I was almost certain that inside it wasn't the blood of virgins, but energy drinks, sodas, and things like chips and sandwiches.
This room was so cozy, peaceful, and somehow... geeky, that it actually felt weird to me. If someone had told me this was the reception area of the most powerful demon, who supposedly couldn't control his rage, I would have just laughed in their face. This looked more like a break room for IT guys who were suddenly given a ton of money and told, "Boys, do whatever you want."
"You may settle in here, Lord Adam," the imp butler bowed slightly once more. "The Master will arrive shortly."
And I just looked around one more time, couldn't help myself, and muttered quietly under my breath:
"...Well, at the very least, waiting here definitely won't be boring..."