The Hazbin Hotel's kitchen was busier than usual — mostly because Max was doing the work of an entire staff.
Dozens of burger patties sizzled on the stove. Potatoes fried in two pans at once. Max manipulated several tools with magic — spatulas flipping themselves, knives chopping vegetables in rhythmic precision, a shadowy tendril stirring seasoning into a bowl. He'd spent the afternoon shopping in the human world for ingredients, and now the entire hotel smelled like a real Earth diner.
"Mm~ something smells positively delightful," came a familiar radio-static drawl.
Alastor stepped into the kitchen, the lights flickering politely away from him as they always did. His grin glowed brighter than the stove flames.
"Must be nice, getting jaunts to the human world," he said, leaning over to inspect the patties.
Max shrugged while flipping a row of burgers. "Not as nice as you'd think. Can't buy alcohol. Can't enter anything requiring an ID. Can't do anything that ties to my old life. Pretty limiting."
Alastor chuckled and poured himself a drink. "My boy, most sinners would kill for that opportunity. They'd ignore all rules and run wild."
"Alastor, most sinners would kill someone for stepping on their shoe." Max slid another patty onto a toasted bun. "I'm only able to go because I'm engaged to a Goetia. Kind of funny though — all that power in the family, and I'm using it to bring everyone human food."
He smiled at the thought.
"Ah, but surely you have more… devious intentions," Alastor said, eyes glowing, hoping to pry something interesting loose.
"Nope. But if you want to see something fun—"
Max set the spatula down and snapped his fingers.
Chains materialized in midair — each one colored differently. Some wrapped loosely around his wrists, some hung like decorative pendants around his neck, and some lay faintly around his chest like shimmering sigils. They represented soul-bonds — the metaphysical contracts between him and the girls.
The ones around his hands were tiny, brittle, nearly translucent.
The ones around his neck were thick, solid, unbreakable.
Alastor stared.
Then burst into hysterical laughter.
"HAHAHAH! You absolute fool! You've given them more control over you than you have over them! Oh, this is rich!"
Max rolled his eyes. "I've never been in a real relationship before, Alastor. Too many people took advantage when there was nothing to hold them accountable. With contracts — especially mine — there's no reason for them to lie, bolt, or betray me. And if they ever do? I'll know instantly."
He shrugged while seasoning another batch of fries.
"Besides, Hellborn don't hide things. If they willingly tie themselves down, they mean it. The fact that they surprised me with an engagement? Pretty solid proof."
Alastor wiped a tear of mirth from his eye. "This is Hell, my friend. No morals for the wicked, as they say."
He grabbed his plate. "I'll call the others to collect their meals. But I'll be dining in my room, if you don't mind."
"Suit yourself."
As Alastor left, Octavia walked in — and her normally tired, half-lidded eyes narrowed in irritation at him as they passed each other.
Max blinked.
"Oh. Hey, Octavia. How do you like your burger?"
But she wasn't focused on the food.
Her feathers were slightly puffed — a sign of quiet agitation — and her expression was thoughtful, almost heavy.
"Is… what you said true?" she asked softly. "It sounded like you lived a… really unfortunate life. Before the bad things you did, I mean."
Max realized immediately she had overheard.
"Well," he said, turning a pan of potatoes into golden crispy fries, "tell me how you want your burger, and I'll tell you whatever you want to know."
Octavia exhaled. "Lots of lettuce, lots of tomato. Thin patty… super thin."
Max smirked. "One smash burger coming up. I forget sometimes — you've got a tiny, adorable mouth."
Octavia's hands flinched, and she blushed so hard her nose turned pink.
"D-Don't say it like that…"
He chuckled.
"So," he continued, "what do you want to know?"
Octavia fiddled with her sleeves. "You don't trust relationships. Real ones. Is that because of… your past life? More than you've said?"
Max paused.
Not because the question shocked him — but because of how gentle and sincere she sounded.
He set down the knife and sighed.
"I was born to be a tool in the gang I was in," he said quietly. "First kill at fifteen. First heist at sixteen. And a lot more after. In Hell it sounds normal, but in the human world? It's messed up."
Octavia listened intently.
"The first thing I learned is this: relationships are easy to destroy. People cheat like it's nothing. They betray each other for attention online or for petty crap. Didn't help that everything on the internet promoted it."
He chopped lettuce methodically — crisp, rhythmic, controlled.
"It made trusting anyone feel… dangerous."
Octavia looked down. "…It sounds like my dad."
Max winced. "Okay — yes. Stolas and Blitz's affair was unfair to you. Very unfair. But… think about what would've happened if he stayed with Stella."
Octavia's feathers stiffened.
"Stella hated him," Max continued. "She abused him long before Blitz. Blitz just became the excuse she needed to go nuclear. Their whole arrangement was — poorly — built around producing one thing."
He inhaled sharply, realizing too late.
Octavia stared at him.
"So I was just… a means to an end?"
"No—no, no, that's not what I meant." Max immediately reached out, placing his remaining hand gently on her shoulder. "I worded that so horribly. I'm sorry."
He held her close, and shadowy tendrils continued preparing the food behind him.
"Your father loves you more than anything," Max said softly. "Everything happening now is… a lot. Too fast. Too overwhelming. But he cares. Deeply. Just give him a chance. Please."
Octavia's tense posture gradually softened.
She leaned into him — shyly, carefully — and whispered:
"Fine… but you need to show a little more trust too."
Before Max could reply, she rose onto her toes and gave him a tiny, feather-light kiss on the cheek.
His face went red.
Her cheek turned even redder.
The frying oil hissed.
A burger flipped itself behind them.
Neither said anything for a long moment.