Chapter 133: The Taste of Morning, The Lemon Tart, and The Rainbow Intruder
The transition from night to day is not a switch; it is a gradient.
Inside the Dimensional Restaurant, the warm, amber glow of the pendant lights began to lose its dominance against the encroaching dawn. Outside the window, the deep, velvet black of the late night had softened into a bruised purple, and now, finally, into the ethereal, pale blue known to photographers and poets as the "Blue Hour."
Lucifer sat by the window, a porcelain plate resting before her.
On the plate sat a Lemon Tart.
It was a small sun in the middle of the twilight. She had made it herself—under Ren's supervision, of course—and the result was surprisingly professional. The base was a Pâte Sablée, a sandy, buttery shortcrust pastry that crumbled at the mere suggestion of a fork. Inside lay the lemon curd, a vibrant pool of yellow that walked the tightrope between aggressive acidity and soothing sweetness.
Lucifer picked up her fork, slicing through the edge.
Crack.
The sound of the crust breaking was satisfyingly crisp. She lifted the piece to her lips.
The flavor hit her tongue in stages. First, the rich, toasted butter of the crust. Then, the sharp, electric zing of the lemon zest, awakening the salivary glands. Finally, the mellow, creamy sweetness of the curd and the dollop of whipped cream on top, smoothing out the tartness into a harmonious finish.
"Mmm..."
Lucifer narrowed her crimson eyes, savoring the bite. The crushed almonds sprinkled on top added a nutty crunch, and the fresh lemon zest grated over the cream released essential oils that filled her nose with the scent of a Mediterranean orchard.
It was fresh. It was bright. It was the taste of morning.
She looked out the window. The wind chimes hanging under the eaves—glass bells painted with goldfish patterns—danced in the morning breeze. Ting... Ting... The sound was crisp, clearing away the mental fog of the night.
Birds, species unknown to her demon taxonomy but native to this peaceful Japanese setting, began to tune their instruments in the nearby trees.
Lucifer leaned her chin on her hand, her silver hair catching the first rays of light. She realized now why Ren enjoyed the night shift so much.
Sitting in a warm shop while the world outside is cold and blue. Eating a sweet tart while the birds wake up. Waiting for the final guest while the rest of the city sleeps. There was a unique romance to it—a quiet sovereignty over time.
"Is it delicious?"
A gentle voice broke her reverie.
Lucifer blinked, snapping back to reality. She looked at the half-eaten tart, then at Ren, who was wiping down the counter with his usual rhythmic efficiency.
"It's not bad," Lucifer admitted, though she poked the crust critically. "But... it feels a bit lacking in sweetness. Or maybe depth? Ren, don't you think this tart I made... it's still not as good as the ones you make?"
Ren chuckled, walking over to sit in the chair opposite her. He untied his apron, signaling the unofficial end of the heavy work.
"It's probably because you made it, and I didn't," Ren said simply.
Lucifer tilted her head, her silver ahoge twitching in confusion. "Eh? What's the difference? I followed your recipe. Same ingredients. Same oven temperature. Even the number of stirs was the same."
"The difference," Ren said, leaning back and crossing his legs, "is the process. Or rather, how you feel about the process."
Lucifer stared at him. "That sounds like some vague, spiritual nonsense. Are you saying you infuse magic into the dough?"
"Not magic," Ren corrected, shaking his head. "Intent."
He pointed to the tart.
"When you cook, your mood determines the 'upper limit' of the details. If you're anxious, you might rush the whisking. If you're bored, you might cut the chilling time short. But if you enjoy the process—if you genuinely want the person eating it to feel happy—you naturally pay attention to the micro-details. The texture of the zest, the aeration of the cream, the thickness of the crust."
Ren smiled, a soft expression that made Lucifer's heart skip a beat.
"This is the origin of the legendary 'Taste of Home.' It's not a specific spice. It's the care."
Lucifer nodded slowly, processing this. "So... what kind of mood do you bring when you cook for the guests? For Zoro? For Mai? For me?"
Ren thought for a moment, looking at the ceiling where the shadows were retreating.
"Peace," Ren answered. "I want them to finish their meal and feel at peace. To forget the battles, the politics, the noise. Just for a moment."
"Peace..." Lucifer murmured. She took another bite of the tart.
She thought about how she felt after eating Ren's cooking. The way the stress of managing Hell's bureaucracy melted away. The way she stopped worrying about rebellious demons or paperwork.
"I think I understand," Lucifer said softly. "It makes sense. The food a mother makes for her children is different from the food she makes for strangers. The intent is different."
She looked at Ren, her eyes softening. "So, the food we make for ourselves... is it different too?"
"Of course," Ren nodded. "Self-care is a different flavor than hospitality."
Lucifer took the final bite of the tart, closing her eyes. "It seems cuisine isn't as simple as chemistry."
"No," Ren corrected. "It's the simplest thing in the world. Treat the ingredients with respect, and cook with a serious heart. That is all there is to it. Now..."
He stood up, stretching his arms.
"Speaking of food. What do you want for breakfast? Cerberus will be waking up any second now."
Lucifer checked the time. "Ah?! Does that dog really wake up this early every day? We barely slept!"
"Cerberus runs on a nuclear reactor of energy," Ren laughed. "The first thing she does every morning is run laps downstairs. If she wasn't a demon, I'd suspect a severe case of ADHD or an adrenaline disorder."
Lucifer sighed, shaking her head. "Being young must be nice."
Ren raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you the same age? Biologically speaking?"
"Shut up," Lucifer hissed. Then, a mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. "Hey, Ren. I just thought of something interesting."
"Oh no," Ren deadpanned. "What?"
"You mentioned before," Lucifer leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, "that Hell has a customer service line. For complaints and summoning."
Ren paused. "I did."
"Well," Ren rubbed his chin, a playful smile mirroring hers. "Now that you mention it... I suddenly have the urge to test the quality of your employees. What's the number? I want to make a complaint about the heating bill."
Lucifer froze.
Panic.
She had lied. Or rather, she had embellished. The "Customer Service" of Hell was mostly just skeletons screaming into a void, or Pandemonica being tired and hanging up on people. If Ren called, he wouldn't get a professional operator. He'd get chaos. He'd realize her "Queen" persona was managing a circus, not a corporation.
"No!" Lucifer shouted, waving her hands frantically. "No, no, no! You absolutely cannot call!"
Ren blinked. "Eh? Why are you panicking? You sound like Cerberus when she hides a bone. Why can't I call? Is the service that bad?"
"It's not bad!" Lucifer lied through her teeth, her face flushing red. "It's... it's dangerous! Yes! Very dangerous!"
She stood up, slamming her hands on the table.
"If a living human calls the Hell Hotline... you'll be cursed! You'll encounter all sorts of bad luck! You might stub your toe! You might lose your wallet! You won't live long!"
Ren stared at her. "Stubbing my toe counts as a lethal curse?"
"It leads to gangrene!" Lucifer insisted, sweating.
Ren looked at her desperate expression. He didn't know if the curse was real, but he knew she was hiding something embarrassing. Being a gentleman, he decided to spare her dignity.
"Alright, alright," Ren raised his hands in surrender. "No prank calls to the underworld. I value my toes."
Lucifer let out a breath she had been holding, slumping back into her chair. Crisis averted. The image of the dignified CEO is safe. (Note: It was absolutely not safe, and Ren saw right through it).
Just as the atmosphere settled back into a comfortable silence, a rhythmic thumping sound echoed from the ceiling.
Thump. Thump. Thump. THUMP-THUMP-THUMP!
It sounded like a stampede of miniature elephants.
"She's coming," Ren warned, bracing himself.
Before Lucifer could even roll her eyes, a white blur shot down the wooden staircase.
"MASTER! MASTER! MASTER!"
Cerberus, the Guard Dog of Hell, launched herself from the bottom step like a heat-seeking missile. She didn't run; she flew.
"CATCH ME!"
"It's like this every morning..." Ren sighed, but he opened his arms.
Wham.
He caught the triple-threat demon effortlessly, spinning slightly to absorb the momentum. Cerberus clung to him, nuzzling into his chest, her tail wagging so hard it created a breeze.
"Hehe~ Morning, Master! Morning, Master! Morning, Master!"
Lucifer watched this display with a twitching eyelid. So much energy. Why? How? And why is she hugging him like a koala?
"Cerberus," Lucifer scolded, crossing her arms. "Have some dignity. You are the Guard Dog of the Underworld, not a lapdog."
Cerberus stopped nuzzling and looked over Ren's shoulder. She blinked, her three distinct personalities seemingly converging into one confused expression.
"Eh?! It's Lucifer!" Cerberus gasped. "Why is Lucifer up so early? Usually, when I try to wake you up, you throw pillows at me!"
Lucifer's face flushed again. "I—I always wake up early! I just... I meditate in bed! It's called executive contemplation!"
"Oh..." Cerberus nodded, clearly not understanding but not caring enough to press the issue. "That sounds boring."
She turned back to Ren, her eyes sparkling with hunger.
"Master! Master! What are we eating for breakfast? Meat? Pancakes? Meat pancakes?"
Ren smiled, patting her head. "We can have—"
Ding-Ling!
The crisp, clear sound of the door chimes cut him off.
The air in the room shifted instantly. The comfortable morning drowsiness evaporated, replaced by the static charge of the Dimension Door opening.
"Lucifer! Don't look!"
Cerberus immediately remembered Ren's standing order regarding guests from other worlds (mostly to protect Lucifer's delicate sensibilities from seeing anything terrifying). She reached out her hands to cover Lucifer's eyes.
"Get off!" Lucifer swatted Cerberus's paws away effortlessly. "Ren already told me about the guests! I met the ninja girl last night! I'm not a child!"
She straightened her posture, trying to look regal. "Let's see who it is this time. A warrior? A demon? A king?"
Ren wiped his hands, stepping out from behind the counter to welcome the new arrival.
The wooden door swung open completely.
But the person who entered didn't walk. They didn't stride.
They zoomed.
A figure dressed in a pure white, flowing dress rushed into the restaurant. But the posture was bizarre—head down, torso leaning forward at a forty-five-degree angle, and arms thrown straight back behind them like aerodynamic fins.
It was the "Naruto Run."
And the hair.
Lucifer's eyes widened. The woman's hair was a visual assault. It wasn't just one color. It was long, flowing, and shimmered with a chaotic, multi-colored brilliance—streaks of pink, blue, black, and white blending together like a spilled paint palette or a glitching television screen.
The figure rushed in with the momentum of a runaway train, stopping only when they were smack in the middle of the room.
The woman stood up abruptly, her colorful hair swaying wildly.
The air stood still.
Lucifer blinked. Cerberus blinked. Ren smiled politely.
This was definitely going to be a noisy morning.
[Akarin Note:
Your Support Keeps This Story Alive!
If you're enjoying this novel, your support means the world to me. Simple actions like leaving a review, power stone, comment, or sharing the story let me know you're out there. It's the greatest motivation for me to keep updating until the very end and ensures this project continues.
For those who wish to support me more directly, you can join my Patreon at [patreon.com/AkarinTL]. As a thank-you, you'll receive access to 50 advanced chapters.
As a special offer, I've opened a few limited-time tiers at a discounted price! You will get all the benefits of "The Founding Pillars" (normally $20), but at a much cheaper rate.
These slots are extremely limited:
"The Plot Uncoverer": $4.99 (Save 75% / $15.01) - Only 3 slots
"The Dedicated Fan": $9.99 (Save 50% / $10.01) - Only 7 slots
"The Lore Diver": $14.99 (Save 25% / $5.01) - Only 15 slots
I hope I am still worthy of your support. My life truly depends on this... haha, I know I'm so shameless.]