Chapter 8: "Hell's Hospitality"
The cold night air bit at Makoto's skin as he and Justice hurried down the twisted alleys of Vanth. Their hurried escape from the hotel hadn't given them much time to think, but Makoto's stomach had other priorities.
"Ugh…" Makoto groaned, clutching his abdomen as it let out an embarrassingly loud growl. "I'm starving…"
Justice glanced over her shoulder, smirking. "What, you didn't grab a bite before getting dragged to Hell? Rookie mistake."
"Sorry if I didn't have time to pack a lunch!" Makoto shot back, his voice laced with exhaustion. "I've been a little busy not dying!"
Justice laughed, clapping him on the back hard enough to nearly knock him over. "Don't worry, kid. I know just the place. You're gonna love it."
Makoto's stomach growled again, and he sighed. "At this point, I'll eat anything…"
After several more winding turns, they arrived at what Makoto could only describe as a demonic diner. The building was squat and round, with glowing red windows and a faint plume of black smoke rising from its chimney. A crooked sign over the entrance read Grimgrub's Greasepit, and the tantalizing smell of something charred wafted through the air.
Makoto hesitated, eyeing the building warily. "This… doesn't look very safe."
Justice grinned, pushing open the door. "Safe is boring. Come on."
Inside, the diner was packed with demons of all shapes and sizes, crammed into booths or perched on mismatched stools at the counter. The air was thick with smoke and the clatter of utensils on plates. A massive grill dominated the back wall, where a hulking demon with three arms and a chef's hat flipped what looked like slabs of meat over roaring flames.
Makoto tried not to think about where the meat had come from.
Justice led him to a booth in the corner, plopping down on one side and gesturing for him to sit across from her.
"Trust me, kid," she said, leaning back casually. "This place serves the best grub in Hell. Just… don't ask too many questions about the ingredients."
Makoto swallowed hard, sitting down cautiously. "You're not exactly filling me with confidence…"
A demon waitress appeared moments later, sliding a menu onto the table. She had red skin, sharp horns, and glowing yellow eyes that looked him up and down before smirking.
"Well, aren't you a rare treat?" she said, leaning on the table a little too closely for Makoto's comfort. "What's a human like you doing in a place like this?"
Makoto flushed, waving his hands frantically. "I-I'm just trying to survive, I swear!"
The waitress laughed, straightening up and placing a hand on her hip. "Relax, sweetheart. We don't bite here. Much." She winked, then turned to Justice. "What'll it be?"
Justice grinned, flipping open the menu. "I'll take the Hellhound Special. Extra spicy."
The waitress nodded, then looked at Makoto. "And you, cutie?"
Makoto opened the menu and immediately regretted it. The items listed were unlike anything he'd ever seen: Demon Tartar, Screaming Eel Soup, Molten Lava Wings, and Charred Soul Fragments were just a few of the options. His stomach churned at the descriptions, some of which were actively written in dripping red ink.
"Uh…" Makoto stammered, frantically searching for something that didn't sound horrifying. He finally spotted an item at the bottom of the menu: Ashbread and Glowing Fruit Compote.
"I'll, uh, take this," he said, pointing to the least terrifying option.
The waitress snorted but jotted it down. "Suit yourself." She turned and strutted away, her tail swishing behind her.
Makoto sighed, slumping in his seat. "Is there anything in Hell that isn't trying to kill me or gross me out?"
Justice grinned, resting her chin in her hand. "Not really. You're gonna have to toughen up, kid. Hell's not exactly known for its five-star dining."
When their food arrived, Makoto was pleasantly surprised—at first. His dish looked relatively normal: a loaf of dark, steaming bread and a bowl of bright, glowing fruit. The compote smelled faintly of citrus, which was oddly comforting.
"This doesn't look so bad," he said cautiously, picking up a piece of the bread.
Justice smirked, biting into her Hellhound Special—a towering sandwich stacked with what looked like slabs of flaming meat. "Don't get too excited. Even the tamest food here's got a bite to it."
Makoto ignored her, taking a cautious bite of the bread.
At first, it tasted fine—earthy, with a faint hint of spice. But then the heat hit.
His eyes widened as his mouth burned like he'd just swallowed a live coal. He grabbed his water, chugging it desperately, but it didn't help.
Justice burst out laughing, slapping the table. "I told you! You should've ordered something with a little kick!"
Makoto wheezed, fanning his mouth. "A kick?! That felt like getting punched in the face with fire!"
Justice grinned, leaning forward. "You're lucky you didn't order the Lava Wings. Those've knocked demons out cold."
Makoto groaned, reaching for the glowing fruit. "I'm just… gonna try this instead…"
The fruit, thankfully, was sweet and cooling, like biting into a slice of watermelon after a summer heatwave. Makoto exhaled in relief, savoring the taste.
"Well," he said after a moment, "I guess this isn't all bad…"
Justice smirked, wiping a bit of sauce from her lip. "You're a tough little guy, you know that? Most humans wouldn't last a day down here."
Makoto flushed, scratching the back of his head. "I-I'm just trying to survive…"
"And you're doing a hell of a job," Justice said, raising her glass in a mock toast.
Their meal was cut short when the door to the diner slammed open, and a group of demons stalked inside.
Makoto recognized the lead demon immediately—it was the same one from the tavern, the one who had warned him about the amulet.
"Well, well," the demon said, his voice dripping with malice. "What are the odds?"
Makoto's stomach dropped as the demon's eyes locked onto him.
Justice sighed, cracking her knuckles. "Guess dessert's gonna have to wait."
To Be Continued…