Tuesday morning at Zuma Castle began like most others.
Inferno, a shadow in the eternally red sky visible through the large kitchen window, was busy chasing down any pixies that dared to land on his tail, their screeches a common soundtrack to breakfast.
Inside, however, the scene was remarkably mundane. Zuma, currently dressed in a comfortable black tracksuit with the word 'HELL' written in fiery letters down the leg, supervised Astra as she meticulously made toast in simple jeans and a T-shirt.
Her white chitin had been retracted, leaving her with sharp but undeniably human features, framed by severe black hair.
- Careful, Astra, I don't want to summon a butter demon with such enthusiasm. Zuma joked, a hint of amusement in her voice.
Her own chitin was also currently hidden, revealing a beautiful woman with equally sharp features and long black hair pulled back in a ponytail.
Nyx, wearing a light pink tracksuit that contrasted delightfully with the general darkness of Hell, sat on a stool, her gold and purple eyes glued to her tablet. The sins of various souls scrolled across her screen, petty thefts, white lies, the occasional dabbling in dark magic.
- Oh, this one's interesting. He sold his soul for a lifetime supply of warm pizza.
Suddenly, the aroma of richly brewed coffee filled the air, tinged with something... unusual.
Chase, in his human form, entered, a surprisingly handsome man carrying a steaming pot.
- Good morning, ladies... he said cheerfully, placing the pot on the counter... I thought I'd brew us some of that special blend I bought.
He poured himself a cup, the dark liquid swirling enticingly. He took a contented sip.
- Ah, just the way I like it.
Nyx, finally looking up from her tablet, wrinkled her nose.
- What's it called?
- Kopi luwak. Chase replied casually, offering it around.
Astra politely accepted the cup, and Zuma simply raised her eyebrows, a silent question in her gaze.
Nyx, ever curious, typed the name into her tablet. The internet, surprisingly solid in hell thanks to its creative soul-binding agreements, dutifully provided the information.
As the price per kilogram flashed on the screen, Nyx's already fair complexion drained of color. Her purple eye widened dramatically, a golden one not far behind.
- Dad... she began, her voice a strained whisper... How much did you buy?
Chase shrugged, indifferent.
- A few kilos. It seemed like a good deal.
A few kilos. The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken monetary value. Nyx's jaw dropped. This was not the kind of random spending, even with the eclectic and abundant currency of Hell. She turned to her mother, eyes wide with disbelief.
- Mom.
Zuma, who had been watching the exchange with growing suspicion, turned to her youngest.
- Yes, my little flame?
- This coffee... Nyx's voice trembled slightly... costs a few thousand for... for every unit they measure it in!
Zuma's eyes, even in her human form, flashed with a sudden surge of hellfire. She ripped the cloth from the sink, the damp cloth suddenly a weapon of righteous indignation. With a guttural roar, she threw herself at Chase, the cloth whistling through the air.
- Chase!... she roared, hitting him with the wet cloth... Just because we have the infinite wealth of hell doesn't mean we have to drop thousands on some fancy coffee from some mammal's ass!
Chase, despite his impressive height and width advantage as the Champion of Hell, was surprisingly adept at avoiding the furious, cloth-wielding Zuma. He caught her flailing hand, halting her relentless attack.
- Sweetheart, calm down!... he pleaded, the irritation evident in his voice...This isn't original kopi luwak! This is a fake!
Zuma froze, the cloth still clinging to her hand.
- Fake?
- Yeah... Chase said, a nervous smile spreading across his face...I...uh...have taken on the role of the palm civet here.
The realization dawned on Zuma slowly, each word sinking in with horrifying clarity. Her sharp features sharpened even more, her attractive face twisting into a mask of utter disgust.
- No...she breathed, her voice barely a whisper... Fuck, no... You're not fucking telling me you ate coffee beans, shit them out, and then... made coffee out of them!
Chase grimaced, giving a small, shy nod.
The kitchen descended into complete chaos.
Nyx, who had been silently watching the drama unfold, finally succumbed to the sheer absurdity of it all and fainted, collapsing to the floor in a pile of pink sweatpants.
Astra, who had taken a curious sip of coffee moments earlier, stared at the contents of her cup in great horror, her hair standing on end comically.
Zuma, a strangled scream escaping her lips, abandoned the dishtowel and threw herself onto the balcony. She leaned uncertainly over the ornate railing, the red sky swirling ominously below and she was miserable with violence. The sounds of her vomiting echoed through the castle courtyard. The sounds echoed through the courtyard, likely disturbing the few low-ranking demons who tended the lava gardens.
Seeing his chance, Chase headed out the back door, his earlier joy completely evaporating, replaced by a primal desire to escape his wife's wrath.
The next day dawned, still red, still hellish, but the atmosphere within the castle grounds was decidedly tense.
Chase, looking considerably less confident than usual, was meekly throwing bags of what looked suspiciously like coffee grounds out the window. Inferno, sitting nearby, watched the flying bags with mild interest.
Zuma stood next to him, the heavy wooden rolling pin held loosely in one hand. Part of her black chitin was revealed, a dark sheen covering her arms and shoulders, and six crown-like horns were just beginning to push through her scalp. She watched Chase with an intensity that could melt steel. In case he had an idea for something stupid.
- Can I at least leave the instant coffee? Chase asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Zuma's gaze narrowed. She ran the rolling pin around her neck inquisitively, then banged on the table, the dull thud surprisingly menacing.
- Only the original packaging. I see one odd-looking package... She let the threat hang in the air.
Chase swallowed audibly, his Adam bouncing his apple. He nodded meekly.
From the outside, the scene must have looked completely absurd, the mighty brute of the Champion of Hell cowering before his wife, the Queen of Hell, wielding kitchen utensils.
- No more fakes... Chase mumbled, his eyes darting nervously towards the rolling pin... Only original products. He even managed a faint, reassuring smile.
Zuma didn't return the smile. The memory of the coffee, the image of Chase... the process... it was all still too fresh. She sighed, the tension in her chitin easing slightly.
- I take what I want from life. She muttered, the quote sounding more like a mantra of self-confidence than a boast.
Right now, she wanted the lingering smell of kopi luwak to disappear from her castle.
Inside, Astra cautiously offered Nyx a cup of plain, unprocessed coffee. Nyx, still slightly pale, looked at it with great suspicion.
- Are you sure this is just... normal?
Astra sighed, running a hand through her hair.
- Yes, Nyx. Dad is under strict instructions. Anything that even looks like processed coffee beans has been banished to the deepest pits of Styx.
Nyx took a tentative sip, her purple and gold eyes flickering nervously to the window. The red sky seemed to mock her paranoia.
Even in Hell, sometimes the most outrageous things didn't happen in fiery battles or demonic pacts, but over a simple and utterly disgusting cup of coffee.
