Cain led Lucifer into the brightly lit, noisy interior of a Jollibee restaurant. The familiar scent of fried chicken and spaghetti sauce filled the air, mingling with the chatter of families and the clatter of trays. Lucifer's attention was immediately seized by the sight of so many humans consuming food in unison. Her gaze landed on a pregnant woman sitting at a booth, gently rubbing her rounded belly. Lucifer stared, utterly fascinated.
While they waited in line, Cain pulled out his wallet. "So, what do you want to eat?" he asked.
Lucifer tilted her head, her eyes still on the pregnant woman. "Angelic beings do not require consumption to sustain ourselves. It is a purely mortal necessity."
"Yeah, well, I'm mortal," Cain said, shifting his weight. "And I'm not comfortable eating in front of someone who's just going to stare at me. It's weird. So pick something. Consider it a cultural experience."
Lucifer considered this. Her eyes drifted back to the pregnant woman. She pointed a direct, unwavering finger. "I have never attempted to consume a human. May I try that one?"
The pregnant woman, feeling the intensity of the stare, looked up. She saw the stunningly beautiful, strangely dressed woman pointing directly at her stomach. Her face paled, and she instinctively wrapped both hands protectively over her belly, shrinking back into the booth with an expression of deep alarm.
Cain's blood ran cold. He let out an awkward, strangled laugh and waved dismissively at Lucifer's hand, forcing it down. He leaned toward the woman, offering a pained, apologetic smile. "I am so, so sorry! She's… she's an idiot. Please forgive her. She doesn't know what she's saying." He shot Lucifer a fierce, silencing look.
He turned back to Lucifer, his voice a tense whisper. "Humans are not on the menu. Pick something from there." He pointed emphatically at the large, colorful menu board mounted above the counter, displaying pictures of fried chicken, burgers, and pasta.
Lucifer studied the images with a serious, analytical expression. The bright photos of food meant nothing to her. After a long minute of silent contemplation, she shrugged. "I will ingest whatever sustenance you select."
After ordering, paying, and collecting their tray of food, Lucifer immediately strode toward a specific table by the window, claiming it with the authority of someone choosing a throne. Cain sat opposite her and began the familiar ritual of unpacking his meal: peeling the paper lid off the rice, unwrapping the fried chicken, opening the small container of gravy.
Lucifer watched his every move closely, then picked up her own container of rice. She gripped the paper lid and pulled. Instead of peeling it back, she ripped straight through it, tearing a ragged hole in the paper and sending a few grains of rice scattering onto the table.
Cain watched the struggle. A chuckle escaped him, the tense moment in the line forgotten for a second. She was so profoundly clumsy at the simplest human tasks. "Here," he said, his voice gentle. "Like this." He took the container from her, demonstrated the peeling motion slowly, and handed it back.
She mimicked him perfectly the second time. As they began to eat, Lucifer copied his actions with eerie precision: dipping the chicken in the gravy, taking a bite, then a spoonful of rice. She was a quick study in mechanics. But one thing she could not replicate was the expression on his face. As he ate, a faint, melancholic smile touched his lips, his eyes focused on something far beyond the restaurant walls.
Lucifer tilted her head, her chewing slowing. "That particular smile," she said. "You are remembering a past event. Are you not? Perhaps… a memory involving a loved one? In a location similar to this one?"
Cain's smile faded, but he nodded. "Yeah. It just brought some stuff back."
"Who is this person? Your significant other?" She took another bite of chicken.
"My best friend."
"Is her name… Amelia?"
Cain's fork stopped halfway to his mouth. He set it down, his eyes wide with surprise. "How did you know that name?"
"While I observed your rest cycle last night, you spoke the name 'Amelia' several times. Your vocalizations were distressed." Lucifer said it as matter-of-factly as reporting the weather. "She is likely deceased. The depth of longing you exhibit is characteristic of human grief for those who have permanently departed."
Cain looked down at his half-eaten food, his appetite gone. He confirmed it with a slow nod. "I can't seem to move on. Right before she died… we weren't on good terms. I never got to apologize." He let out a long breath. "I used to wish… stupidly… that I could just go to heaven, find her, and say I'm sorry. Just once. But I know that's impossible."
"Who informed you it was impossible?" Lucifer asked, her head tilting in genuine confusion, as if he'd said he couldn't lift a spoon.
Cain froze. He stared at her, the noise of the restaurant fading into a buzz. "What do you mean?"
"It is possible to travel to heaven without undergoing mortal death," Lucifer explained, picking a grain of rice off her sleeve. She seemed almost entertained by his ignorance. "You would need to journey to the Sky Palace and obtain formal permission from Michael herself. That is the simple method, of course. Provided you are an angel."
"Then…" Cain's voice was barely a whisper. "What's the hard way?"
Lucifer's lips curved into a sharp, knowing smirk. "Kill Michael."
"Oh."
Cain let out a short, humorless laugh, breaking the intensity. "Right. Well, I guess my wish stays a wish, then."
"I agree," Lucifer said, her smirk softening. "It is an impractical desire." She studied him for a moment. "But is that truly the core of your deepest longing?"
"Yeah," Cain said, his voice firm despite its roughness. "It really is." He shook his head, as if to clear it. "Enough about my dead friend and impossible dream. What about you? What is it that you really want?"
Amelia and I had this same conversation once, he remembered, a fresh pang of nostalgia hitting him. She said she didn't want to be…
"I do not want to be lonely."
Lucifer's voice cut through his memory. She had looked down at her hands as she said it, then lifted her eyes back to his.
The words, their exact phrasing, echoed in Cain's mind with the force of a physical blow. His eyes widened. It was exactly what Amelia had said to him years ago, sitting on a park bench at dusk. Every new layer he uncovered about Lucifer—her wonder, her bluntness, her strange loneliness—seemed to mirror a reflection of the friend he had lost.
Lucifer suddenly stood up. She gestured for him to stand as well. Cain assumed he had overstepped, that his question had ruined the moment and she wanted to leave. He began to gather their trash, an apology forming on his lips.
But Lucifer was not looking at him. Her posture had shifted from contemplative to something poised and alert, like a predator sensing a rival.
"Did Michael not warn you?" Lucifer's voice rang out, clear and loud, cutting through the restaurant's din. Every head at nearby tables turned. "That if you ever found me, you were to call for her immediately? You were not to engage alone."
Cain stared at her, utterly bewildered. "Lucifer, what are you doing? Sit down, you're causing a scene, it's embarrassing," he hissed, mortified.
Lucifer ignored him completely. Her gaze was fixed on a point somewhere behind him, her expression turning menacing. "For a Commandment, you are remarkably arrogant, believing you could apprehend me by yourself."
Cain slowly turned to follow her line of sight.
A man was standing just inside the restaurant entrance. He was dressed in ordinary jeans and a dark jacket, but he stood with an unnatural stillness. His eyes, a pale, piercing gray, were locked on Lucifer. The ambient noise around him seemed to dampen, as if he existed in a pocket of silence.
"Zephon," Lucifer said, the name a flat statement of fact.
The man—Zephon—gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod.
Then, the world dissolved.