The first thing Ren noticed when he woke up was that his back hurt.The second thing was that the floor wasn't a floor. It was bones. Polished ones. The kind of decor choice that screamed this place has HR problems.
He groaned and sat up. "Okay… definitely not the hospital," he muttered. "Or Tokyo. Or any place with safety regulations."
The air smelled like smoke, cinnamon, and… something uncomfortably close to blood. Tall obsidian pillars curved overhead, and fire flickered in braziers shaped like skulls. Around him, cloaked figures whispered in a language that made his ears ring.
"Oh, great," Ren said, rubbing his temples. "A cult. It's always a cult."
A deep voice sliced through the murmuring."Bring him forward."
Ren looked up. On a throne of black steel sat a man or something wearing the shape of one. His hair was silver, his armor darker than night, and his eyes glowed red, like embers waiting for oxygen. The aura around him was tangible, raw power condensed into irritation.
And standing beside that throne was another man. Tall, human, quiet, his dark hair tied back, his hand resting near his sword. His eyes were unreadable but not unkind.
Ren's survival instincts whispered: The quiet one is the nice one. Stick near the nice one.
Two demons grabbed his arms and shoved him forward. He stumbled and caught himself just before his face met the bony tiles again.
The man on the throne leaned forward, elbows on knees, studying him like a cat deciding if a mouse was worth playing with.
"So," the Demon King said, his voice smooth and cruel, "this is the 'soul healer' the priests were raving about."
Ren blinked. "Soul healer?"
"Are you not?" Varion's lips curved. "Then they sent me another liar."
Ren put on his professional smile, the one he used with severely agitated patients. "I'm a psychiatrist. I help people work through trauma, anxiety, anger—"
A fist met his jaw before he could finish the sentence.
The hit sent him sprawling. He lay there blinking at the ceiling for a moment, trying to remember which planet he was on. "...Okay," he muttered. "So we're doing that kind of intake."
The demons around the room didn't react. This, apparently, was standard procedure.
Varion rose and stalked toward him. "You dare claim to heal souls, mortal, and yet you stand there untouched by the corruption of this realm? Either you're lying… or the gods mock me."
Ren spat a little blood. "Or you just have anger management issues."
The hall went silent. Even the fire seemed to pause.
The human knight beside the throne sighed softly. "Your Majesty, perhaps killing him immediately defeats the purpose of summoning him."
Varion stopped. "Arden," he said coldly. "Did you just interrupt me?"
"I did," the knight said evenly. "He can't heal you if he's dead."
Ren coughed. "I can confirm that."
Varion's head snapped toward him. "Silence."
"Right," Ren said quickly. "Shutting up. Muting. Therapist.exe has crashed."
Arden's mouth twitched, just barely which was the kind of almost-smile that looked like a secret.
Varion exhaled through his nose, the sound more dangerous than any shout. "Fine. Let's test this 'healer.'"
He grabbed Ren by the front of his robe and lifted him effortlessly off the floor until their faces were inches apart. Ren's feet dangled, his hands gripping the king's wrist instinctively.
"Tell me what I am," Varion said, voice low. "Look into my eyes, Healer. Diagnose your god."
Ren met the crimson glow and managed a weak smile. "Narcissistic personality traits. Severe repressed trauma. Possible pyromania."
The Demon King blinked once. Then, to everyone's surprise, he laughed. A low, humorless sound like molten iron cracking. "You have guts."
"I also have a concussion," Ren muttered.
Varion dropped him. "Heal me," he ordered.
Ren looked up from the floor. "From what?"
"From everything," Varion snapped. "You have one moon cycle to fix me. If I still feel pain, I'll tear out your soul and see if it looks as smug as your face."
Ren raised a hand weakly. "Just to clarify, is this… covered by demon healthcare?"
Arden coughed quietly into his fist, the closest thing to laughter Ren had heard all day.
"Take him to the lower chamber," Varion commanded. "If he runs, break his legs. If he cries, gag him. If he dies…" He paused, smirking. "Drag him back. I'm not finished yet."
***
Ren sat on the edge of a stone bed in a dimly lit cell an hour later, nursing his jaw. His thoughts were a chaotic mix of terror and disbelief.
"So I'm in a medieval dungeon," he said to the ceiling. "Working for a homicidal demigod who thinks therapy works by force. Lovely career move, Ren. Really moving up in the world."
A knock sounded at the iron door before it creaked open. Arden stepped inside, carrying a small bowl and cloth. The dim light caught the faint scar along his brow.
Ren blinked. "Are you here to finish the job or start small talk?"
Arden set the bowl down. "You're bleeding. Hold still."
He knelt and dabbed at the cut on Ren's lip with practiced care. Ren winced. "You're surprisingly gentle for someone whose boss punches people into the afterlife."
Arden's mouth curved faintly. "I prefer my patients alive."
"Oh, so you're a doctor too?"
"Soldier," Arden said. "Sometimes medic."
"Well," Ren said, "we're practically coworkers."
A ghost of a smile crossed Arden's face before fading. "Don't antagonize him. He doesn't trust easily."
Ren sighed. "I noticed. What's his problem?"
Arden hesitated, then said quietly, "He's never been healed before."
Ren looked at him. "Has anyone even tried?"
Arden didn't answer. That was answer enough.
When he stood to leave, Ren said, "Thanks for patching me up. Most people just hit me today."
Arden stopped at the door. "Get some rest. He'll call for you again tomorrow."
Ren groaned. "Oh, joy. More unpaid overtime."
Arden glanced over his shoulder. "Try not to die, Doctor."
Ren smiled weakly. "Same to you, Knight."
The door shut with a soft thud. The cell fell quiet except for the crackling torchlight.
Ren leaned back against the wall, touching his sore jaw. "Alright, Ren," he muttered. "You've handled screaming patients, violent delusions, and one guy who thought he was Napoleon. How bad can a Demon King be?"
Outside, thunder cracked.The torches flared blue.Ren sighed. "Oh, right. Jinxed it."