Chapter 157: WGO's Beautiful Executive Officers, New Guests
Cerberus looked at Lucifer and Ren and felt like their intimacy was a bit excessive? And it was the first time Cerberus had seen Lucifer like this.
The atmosphere within the Dimensional Restaurant was wrapped in a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft, rhythmic sounds of the kitchen. Outside, the night was likely dark and possibly cold, but inside, under the warm glow of the pendant lights, it felt like a sanctuary separated from time itself.
Ren stood behind the wooden counter, his posture relaxed but his hands moving with the practiced precision of a master chef. Shhhk. Shhhk. The sound of the knife gliding through the crisp skin of a Fuji apple was incredibly satisfying. With each slice, a burst of fresh, sweet fragrance released into the air, mingling with the faint, savory scent of the day's earlier meals.
Sitting at the counter, the Queen of Hell, Lucifer, stared at the plate Ren had just set down. Her crimson eyes were fixed on the fruit, but her mind was clearly elsewhere. Her hand gripped a silver fork so tightly that her knuckles had turned a pale, alabaster white. It wasn't the grip of someone about to eat; it was the grip of someone holding back a turbulent sea of emotions.
To her side, Cerberus—currently in her singular, human-like form with floppy white dog ears—rested her chin on her crossed arms. She glanced back and forth between her Master and her Queen. Her canine instincts, sharper than any radar, picked up on the thick, unspoken tension in the air.
Why is Lucifer acting so strange? Cerberus wondered, her tail giving a confused, half-hearted wag. She looks like she wants to bite Ren, but also wants him to pet her. Humans—and fallen angels—are so complicated.
For Cerberus, the world was binary. Hungry or full. Happy or sad. Play or sleep. But seeing Lucifer like this, radiating a mix of possessiveness and agitation, was a new puzzle. As long as no other "pets" arrived to steal Ren's attention, Cerberus was usually content, but she felt a strange solidarity with Lucifer.
"I don't want to eat apples anymore!"
Lucifer's voice suddenly cut through the tranquility, sharp and laced with a stubbornness that would make a mule pause. She slammed the fork down onto the wooden table. Clang. The sound echoed slightly, signaling her displeasure.
Ren paused. The knife hovered mid-air. He didn't turn around immediately. A small, amused smile tugged at the corner of his lips—a micro-expression that Lucifer, in her agitation, failed to notice. He finished slicing the piece in his hand, picked up a pale yellow wedge, and casually tossed it into his mouth.
Crunch.
The sound of him biting into the apple was crisp and loud.
"Then I'll eat them myself~" Ren said, his voice light and teasing. He chewed deliberately, savoring the flavor. "Mm. Sweet. Crisp. Perfect balance of acidity. You're missing out, Lucy."
Lucifer's beautiful eyes widened. She stared at his throat as he swallowed, her brain short-circuiting for a moment. He... he actually ate it!
She had expected a reaction! She had expected him to ask, "Why not? Do you want something else? Shall I peel a peach for you?" She wanted the pampering, the attention! She didn't actually mean she didn't want the fruit; she just wanted him to feed it to her!
"Ren, you… hmm?" Lucifer stammered, her face flushing a shade of pink that rivaled the apple skin. "You... you insensitive...!"
Ren wiped his hands on a clean kitchen towel, turning to lean against the counter. He pulled out his smartphone with his free hand, scrolling through his gallery with a casual air that infuriated her further.
"It's not an apple this time," Ren said, turning the screen towards her. "How is it? Is this delicious?"
Lucifer squinted. On the screen wasn't a fruit, but a picture of a decadent strawberry shortcake he had made a few days ago.
"Hmph!" Lucifer snorted, blowing a strand of silver hair out of her face. She grabbed her own phone from the table and shoved it aggressively towards Ren's face. "I'm not looking at your cake! Look at this! Kirari is annoying me again!"
Ren gently pushed the phone back to a readable distance, his eyes twinkling with mirth. He shook his head. This little Queen was truly adorably tsundere. She was like a prickly cat that hissed when you stopped petting it, but scratched when you petted it too much.
Meanwhile, Cerberus felt completely excluded from this high-level emotional warfare. She slumped further onto the table, her cheek pressed against the cool wood, squishing her face comically.
"Master... Master... Master~" she whined, the sound vibrating through the table. "Why do I always feel like I've forgotten something important..."
Ren looked down at the dejected puppy-girl. Her ears were drooping flat against her head.
"Forgotten something?" Ren asked, tapping his chin. "Cerberus, why don't you think about what you did and saw during the day today? Retrace your steps. Start from the morning."
"Think... about... today..." Cerberus murmured, closing her eyes.
She furrowed her brow in intense concentration. Smoke almost seemed to rise from her head. Breakfast. Delicious. Walk. Squirrel. Ball. Kise-kun...
Ren and Lucifer watched her, waiting for the "Aha!" moment.
Suddenly, the air around Cerberus warped. It wasn't magic in the traditional sense; it was a biological imperative of a high-ranking demon.
Poof!
With a sound like a soft pillow fight, the single Cerberus blurred. The air shimmered, and in a split second, one became three.
Three identical girls sat in a row on the bench where only one had been. Three pairs of white ears twitched simultaneously. Three tails wagged in a chaotic rhythm.
Ren blinked, momentarily stunned. "Cerberus?"
"Master!"
The reply came as a triad. Three voices, perfectly synchronized in pitch and timing, rang out. It wasn't an echo; it was a chorus.
Lucifer sighed, massaging her temples. She looked at the three Cerberuses who were now scrambling to hang off Ren—one on his left arm, one on his right, and one hugging his waist. "Really? You split just to think?"
Ren chuckled, patting the head of the middle Cerberus (let's call her Beta). "How did you become three people? Did you run out of RAM in your single brain?"
The middle Cerberus looked up, her expression deadly serious. "One head isn't enough for this mystery! You two, let's all three of us think about what we've forgotten! Multi-core processing!"
"Mm!" The Left Cerberus (Alpha) and Right Cerberus (Gamma) nodded with the gravity of generals planning a war.
"Commencing memory retrieval!"
A few minutes passed.
The scene was absurd. Ren and Lucifer leaned against the counter, sipping tea, watching the three Cerberus sisters sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, humming in deep thought.
"Hmmmmmm..."
Ren looked at Lucifer and whispered, "This silly dog is truly adorably naive. Does she think splitting the brain into three parts increases intelligence? Usually, it just divides the IQ by three."
Lucifer let out a soft laugh, the tension from earlier melting away. "Ren, aren't you going to persuade Cerberus to stop? They look like they're trying to communicate with aliens."
Ren shrugged helplessly. "Cerberus is probably in a state where she won't give up until she figures it out. Lucifer, you still can't use magic to check their memories?"
Lucifer froze, then leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, "If it weren't for fear of being discovered by those pesky monitors from the Celestial Realm, I would have used it already. Even if I don't use magic, I am the Queen of Hell! I should order them to remember!"
Ren nodded, indulging her. "Yes, yes, my little Queen. Is there any way to make Cerberus stop thinking so hard? If they think any longer, they'll overheat and fall asleep."
Lucifer cleared her throat. "Ahem. Cerberus!"
The three heads snapped up in unison.
"Then I went to watch Kise and Master play ball..." The Left Cerberus muttered, eyes glazed.
"And then?" Ren prompted gently.
"After that? After that, I think I also went to the convenience store!" The Right Cerberus shouted, pointing a finger in the air.
"To buy what?"
The Middle Cerberus gasped. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers.
"Ice cream!"
"Ice cream?!" The other two screamed in horror.
"We bought ice cream!"
"Where is it?!"
"We... we left it at the park!"
"NOOOO!"
The scream of despair from the three girls was deafening. It was a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions. They had forgotten the ice cream.
Lucifer puffed out her cheeks again. She was being ignored. Again. The drama of the lost ice cream had completely overshadowed her existence. She felt a pang of jealousy towards the frozen dairy product.
Ren, noticing the pouting Queen, reached out and patted her head. His hand was warm and large, instantly calming her. "It looks like Cerberus is thinking a bit too seriously about food. I'll handle them. You relax."
Ren walked over to the despairing trio. He crouched down.
"Still haven't figured it out? It's fine. I'll make you some later. But once you eat, you have to go to bed early, understand?"
"Mm!" The trio nodded, tears instantly vanishing, replaced by beaming smiles. "Ice cream! Master is the best!"
While Ren managed the chaotic energy of the Cerberus sisters, Lucifer sat back, sipping her water. Her phone buzzed again.
[Momobami Kirari sent a photo]
Lucifer glanced at it and nearly choked.
It was a photo of Kirari in a fitting room. The outfit... if it could be called that... was a scandalous piece of black lace lingerie.
"Does this suit a ruler?" the caption read.
Lucifer's face burned. She furiously typed back.
[Lucifer]: Why are you asking me?! Ask your Vice President! And put some clothes on!
[Kirari]: My, my. Such a prude for a Devil.
The text battle continued, providing a strange background noise to the peaceful night in the restaurant.
Thousands of miles away, the world was a different color.
While the restaurant was bathed in warm yellow light, the landscape of Northern Europe was washed in the cold, blue hues of a winter night.
The wind howled across the frozen plains, whipping up snowdrifts that danced like ghosts in the pale moonlight. This was a place of isolation, of silence, and of immense power.
A black sedan crunched over the gravel road, its headlights cutting through the darkness. The car stopped before a massive iron gate.
The door opened, and a boot stepped out into the snow.
Joichiro Yukihira, formerly known as Saiba Joichiro, the Asura who had once conquered the culinary world, stepped out. He pulled his coat tighter around his neck, his breath pluming in the frigid air like dragon smoke.
The journey had been long. A flight from Tokyo to Copenhagen. A connecting flight to a private airfield. And then this two-hour drive into the middle of nowhere. His bones ached slightly, a reminder that he wasn't the young man who used to sleep on kitchen floors anymore.
He looked up.
Before Joichiro stood a complex of buildings that defied simple description. It was the headquarters of the World Gourmet Organization (WGO). The architecture was a seamless blend of classical European grandeur—stone pillars, high arches, slate roofs—and modern, brutalist minimalism. It didn't look like an office; it looked like a fortress. A sanctuary where the gods of cuisine judged the mortals below.
"Finally arrived here~" Joichiro muttered, shifting the weight of his battered travel bag. He looked at the imposing structure and chuckled, a sound that was swallowed by the wind. "Still as luxurious as ever... They really don't know the meaning of 'humble', do they? Even the snow looks expensive here."
He began the long walk from the car to the gatehouse. The gravel crunched rhythmically under his feet. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
As he approached the lit area of the gate, he saw silhouettes. He wasn't surprised. The WGO knew everything. They probably knew he was coming the moment he bought his plane ticket.
"Stop right there."
The voice cut through the howling wind. It was sharp, clear, and undeniably charming, but it held an edge of steel.
"This isn't a place you can just enter, stray cat."
Joichiro paused. A grin spread across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. He recognized that tone. He looked up.
Standing at the entrance, seemingly impervious to the freezing temperature, were two women.
On the left stood Decora. Her dark skin glowed under the security lights. She wore a sleeveless black dress that defied the weather, and her presence was as bold as her fashion sense. Her eyes were sharp, analyzing him like a dish to be graded.
On the right stood Courage. Her short white hair blended with the snow, and her skin was as fair as milk. She wore a pleasant smile, the kind of smile a predator gives before pouncing.
These were the First-Class Bookmen. The gatekeepers of the WGO.
"Executive Officer Decora, Executive Officer Courage," Joichiro greeted them, his tone relaxed, as if he weren't standing in a blizzard. "You two ladies are still as beautiful as ever~ Do you consume preservatives instead of food?"
Courage stepped forward. Her heels clicked on the stone pavement. "Ah, it's Mr. Saiba. Long time no see indeed. But flattery gets you nowhere here. Beauty is useless in the face of protocol."
She tilted her head, her smile widening but not reaching her eyes. "Aren't you still a wandering stray? Single and unwanted? Saiba-senpai, what are you doing here? This is restricted ground."
Joichiro laughed, scratching the back of his messy hair. "My surname is no longer Saiba… I've been a Yukihira for a long time now. But never mind, call me whatever makes you happy. I'm here to see your boss for something~"
"The Bookmaster?" Decora crossed her arms, her expression stern. "Mr. Saiba, if you say that, it makes things rather difficult for us. You know the rules. For us WGO, there's only one superior. And Lady Mana is not seeing guests."
"Especially not ghosts from the past who abandoned the world," Courage added, her voice dropping a degree.
Joichiro's expression shifted. The playful, goofy demeanor of the wandering dad evaporated. In its place stood the Asura. His posture straightened. His eyes, usually half-lidded and lazy, sharpened into piercing points of focus.
"I naturally have an important matter to discuss with your boss by coming here~" Joichiro said. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a weight that made the wind seem to stop.
"Important matter?" Decora raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
"In what capacity are you here, Mr. Saiba?" Courage asked, testing him. "As a former Elite Ten? As a father? Or as a failure?"
"As a Senior~" Joichiro replied instantly, his confidence unshakable.
Courage laughed, a tinkling sound in the cold night. "As expected of Mr. Saiba, you're truly good with words~ So Mr. Saiba... could you tell us what matter you have with Lady Mana that is worth breaking our protocol?"
Joichiro took a deep breath. The cold air filled his lungs. He thought of the woman trapped inside that fortress. The woman who couldn't eat. The woman who was slowly starving to death amidst a world of flavor.
He looked straight into Courage's eyes.
"I've found a way," he said softly.
"A way?"
"I've found a way to treat Lady Mana's God Tongue~"
The silence that followed was absolute.
"What?!"
The word exploded from both women simultaneously. Their composure shattered. Decora's jaw dropped, her stoic mask cracking. Courage's smile vanished instantly, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated shock. The God Tongue? Treatable? It was impossible. It was a divine curse. But looking at the man before them, they saw no lie.
Meanwhile, back in the warmth of the Dimensional Restaurant.
The peaceful night was about to be shattered.
The conversation between Ren and the Cerberus sisters was winding down. Lucifer was still texting. The world was calm.
Then, the bell chimed.
Ding-a-ling.
But it wasn't the normal sound of the door opening. The air pressure in the room shifted. A hum of energy, low and vibrating, filled the space.
Ren looked up. Lucifer stopped typing. The three Cerberus heads turned in unison.
The door to the restaurant didn't just open; it erupted with light.
A brilliant, blinding white light flooded the entrance, spilling out onto the wooden floor. It was the dimensional signature, the hallmark of a guest from a world far, far away.
From within the light, a figure stepped forward.
He pushed the door open with a hand that was not made of flesh, but of red and gold alloy. He wore a suit—not a business suit, but a high-tech armor that hummed with power. The faceplate was retracted, revealing a man with a perfectly groomed goatee and eyes that held a mixture of arrogance, genius, and deep-seated weariness.
He looked around the shop, his gaze sweeping over the demon dog, the silver-haired queen, and the chef.
Tony Stark had arrived. And the quiet night was officially over.
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