"Was was that?!" the hare asked nervously.
"My stomach," I admitted, clutching it. "I haven't eaten since I died—which was days ago. I literally died from starvation."
Mira fluttered in front of my face. "We need to find you food."
"Yeah," I said, looking around the bustling street. "But where do you even get food?"
As if in answer, I spotted a building down the street with a wooden sign hanging above the door. The sign depicted a flaming chicken leg and read: "THE BURNING SPOON - Fine Dining for the Damned."
"There!" I pointed. "A restaurant!"
"Perfect," Mira said. "Let's go."
We hurried toward the restaurant.
The restaurant's exterior was surprisingly fancy—carved stone archways, stained glass windows depicting various food items being consumed by flames, and a doorman who was literally made of smoke.
"Welcome to The Burning Spoon," the smoke doorman said in a voice like wind through a chimney. "Table for... one human, one imp, one hare, and one—" He squinted at Kitten Cowboy. "Is that a cat with a gun?"
"Yes," I said. "Table for four, please."
"Right this way."
The interior of The Burning Spoon was absolutely stunning. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting prismatic light across marble floors. Tables were draped in deep red cloth, and the chairs looked like they cost more than my entire life savings back when I was alive.
Creatures (former humans probably) of all varieties sat at tables, dining on meals.
"This place is fancy," I whispered to Mira.
"Too fancy," the hare whispered back. "We should leave. Nothing good happens in fancy places."
But my stomach growled again, and I ignored the hare's warning.
The smoke doorman led us to a table near the back—a nice spot by a window that looked out onto a river of lava. He pulled out a chair for me with tendrils of smoke.
"Your server will be with you shortly," he said, then drifted away.
I sat down, and Mira perched on the table. Kitten Cowboy hopped onto the chair next to me, while the hare nervously took the seat across from us, barely tall enough to see over the table.
A moment later, a waiter appeared—a tall, thin creature with four arms and an impeccably pressed suit. He placed menus in front of us with practiced efficiency.
"Good evening," he said in a refined accent. "I am Sebastien, and I will be your server tonight. May I start you off with something to drink?"
"Water," I said immediately. "Just... regular water, if you have it."
"Of course, sir. And for the rest of your party?"
"Nothing for us," Mira said quickly. "We're just here for moral support. “
"Oh, and goat milk for the little guy," I said, pointing at Kitten Cowboy.
Sebastien nodded and glided away.
I opened the menu.
And immediately felt my heart sink.
"Oh no," I breathed.
"What?" Mira leaned over to look at the menu. "Oh. Oh no."
Every single item on the menu had a price listed in gold coins.
Not regular money. Not Hell dollars or demon credits or whatever currency I'd assumed existed down here.
Gold coins.
I scanned the menu frantically:
-
Flame-Grilled Hellboar Steak - 50 gold
-
Mark’s Delight Soup - 30 gold
-
Roasted Phoenix Wings - 75 gold
-
Simple Bread and Butter - 15 gold
-
Goat Milk (for some reason) - 5 gold
Even the bread cost fifteen gold coins.
I checked my pockets and inventory.
Empty.
"I don't have any gold," I whispered.
"None?" Mira asked.
"None. I didn't even know gold was the currency here. Nobody told me!"
The hare covered its face with its paws. "We're doomed. We're going to get thrown out—or worse, KILLED!"
My stomach growled again, louder this time. The sound was desperate, pleading.
I looked at the menu again. Everything looked amazing. I could practically smell the food from the nearby tables—roasted meats, fresh bread, exotic spices. My mouth was watering.
I was so, so hungry.
And I had no way to pay.
Sebastien returned with a glass of water and a small saucer of goat milk, setting them down in front of me and Kitten Cowboy with a flourish. "Are you ready to order, sir?"
"I, uh..." I stalled, taking a sip of water. It was the most delicious water I'd ever tasted—cool, clean, perfect. "Just... give me one more minute."
"Of course, sir." Sebastien glided away again.
Mira looked at me with concern. "Daniel, what are we going to do?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "But I'm too hungry to think straight. And if I don't eat something soon, I'm going to pass out."
Kitten Cowboy meowed softly and patted my arm with one tiny paw, as if to say, It's okay. We'll figure it out. Then it said, "Pew."
And then, suddenly, I had an idea.
It was not a good idea.
It was, in fact, a terrible idea.
But it was the only idea I had.
"I've got a plan," I said quietly.
The hare's ears shot straight up. "Oh no."
"What's the plan?" Mira asked hesitantly.
I leaned in close and lowered my voice. "We order food. I eat it. And then, before they bring the check, we stage a distraction and run for the exit."
There was a long silence.
"That's your plan?" the hare said flatly. "Dine and dash?"
"Yes."
"That's the worst plan I've ever heard."
"Do you have a better one?"
The hare opened its mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "No. No, I don't. Which is why this is such a disaster."
Mira bit her lip. "Daniel, I don't know if this is a good idea. What if we get caught?"
"We won't get caught," I said with false confidence. "I'll eat fast. You'll create a distraction—maybe knock over a glass or something. And we'll slip out while everyone's distracted."
"And if that doesn't work?"
"Then we run."
"And if we can't outrun them?"
"Then we run faster."
“WHAT IF THEY RUN FASTER?!” said the hare. ”Then we run even faster.”
Kitten Cowboy meowed and drew one of its tiny revolvers, as if to say, I'm ready for anything.
Sebastien returned, pen poised over his notepad. "Ready to order, sir?"
I took a deep breath.
"Yes," I said. "I'll have the Flame-Grilled Hellboar Steak, the Mark’s Delight Soup, a side of Infernal Fries, and the bread basket."
Sebastien wrote it all down without batting an eye. "Excellent choice, sir. That will be 110 gold coins."
"Perfect," I said, trying to sound casual. "I'll pay after I eat."
"Of course, sir." Sebastien collected the menus and glided away.
The hare buried its face in its paws again. "We're going to die."
"Naah," I admitted. "I'm too hungry to care."
The food arrived fifteen minutes later, and it was glorious.
The hellboar steak was perfectly cooked, still sizzling on the plate. The soup was rich and creamy with an aroma that made my head spin. The fries were crispy and golden, and the bread was warm and soft with butter melting into it.
I didn't even wait for Sebastien to finish setting down the plates before I grabbed a fork and started eating.
It was the best food I'd ever tasted.
Every bite was heaven—which was ironic, considering I was in Hell. The steak melted in my mouth. The soup was perfectly seasoned. The fries were addictive.
"I don't know who Mark is, but his soup is perfect," I said.
I ate like a man possessed, shoveling food into my mouth with desperate enthusiasm.
"Daniel," Mira whispered urgently. "Slow down. You're attracting attention."
She was right. Several people at nearby tables had turned to stare at me with expressions ranging from amusement to disgust.
I didn't care.
I was hungry.
I finished the steak in five minutes. The soup took another three. The fries disappeared in a blur of chewing. The bread basket was gone in seconds.
I leaned back in my chair, finally satisfied. My stomach was full. My body felt warm and energized. I felt alive again.
"Okay," I said, wiping my mouth with a napkin. "That was amazing. Now we just need to—"
"Excuse me, sir," Sebastien said, appearing at the table with a small silver tray. "Your bill."
He set the tray down in front of me.
On it was a piece of parchment with elegant handwriting:
Total: 110 Gold Coins
"Right," I said, my heart beginning to race. "About that—"
And then I executed the plan.
"Mira, now!" I hissed.
Mira hesitated for a fraction of a second, then flew up and knocked over my water glass.
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It crashed to the floor with a loud SMASH.
Water spread across the marble in a glittering puddle.
Several people turned to look.
"Oh no!" I said loudly, standing up. "I'm so sorry! Let me help clean that up—"
And then I ran.
I scooped up Kitten Cowboy, grabbed the hare by the scruff of its neck, and bolted for the exit.
Mira flew after me, shouting, "This is a terrible plan!"
"I know!" I shouted back.
Behind us, I heard Sebastien shout, "WAIT! SIR! YOUR BILL!"
I didn't wait.
I ran faster.
Here's the thing about terrible plans: they never work the way you expect them to.
I made it exactly three steps toward the exit before I slipped on the water I'd just spilled.
My feet went out from under me.
I crashed into a nearby table, sending plates flying.
A three-headed man roared in fury as his dinner landed in his lap.
I scrambled to my feet, but Kitten Cowboy had tumbled out of my arms and was now sliding across the floor like a tiny, furry hockey puck.
"Pew!" it cried indignantly.
"Sorry!" I shouted, trying to grab it.
But before I could reach the kitten, the hare—who I'd forgotten in the chaos—hopped directly into the path of a waiter carrying a tower of flaming desserts.
"LOOK OUT!" the waiter screamed.
Too late.
The waiter tripped over the hare.
The flaming desserts went flying through the air in a spectacular arc.
They landed on another table.
The tablecloth caught fire.
A woman screamed and threw her wine at the flames, which only made them bigger.
"OH NO," I breathed.
Chaos erupted.
People were shouting. Waiters were running with buckets of water. The three-headed man was standing up, all three heads screaming at once about his ruined suit.
And through it all, Sebastien was striding toward me with the calm, terrifying efficiency of a man who had dealt with this exact situation a thousand times before.
"Sir," he said, his voice cutting through the chaos like a knife. "I must insist that you pay your bill."
"I don't have any gold!" I blurted out.
Sebastien stopped.
His expression didn't change. "I see."
He snapped his fingers.
Two massive bouncers appeared from nowhere—each at least eight feet tall, covered in muscles that had muscles, with horns that could probably gore a truck.
"Escort our guest to the kitchen," Sebastien said pleasantly. "He'll be working off his debt."
"Wait, what?" I said. "No, no, no—we can work something out—"
The bouncers grabbed me by the arms.
"Daniel!" Mira shouted, flying after us.
"SAVE YOURSELVES!" I called back dramatically as I was dragged toward the kitchen.
The hare and Kitten Cowboy were also being escorted—by smaller but no less determined bouncers.
"I told you this was a bad idea!" the hare wailed.
"Pew pew," Kitten Cowboy added, which I interpreted as, You really messed up this time.
The kitchen was even hotter than the dining room, with massive stoves belching flames and cauldrons bubbling with mysterious liquids. Dozens of people from different races worked at different stations, chopping, stirring, and somehow managing to not set themselves on fire.
The head chef—a massive six-armed creature with a chef's hat that was somehow spotless despite the chaos—looked up as we were dragged in.
"More dishwashers?" he asked in a voice like grinding stones.
"More dishwashers," Sebastien confirmed. "They dined without payment. 110 gold worth."
The chef calculated quickly. "That's approximately eight hours of dishwashing. Each."
"EIGHT HOURS?" I yelped.
"You ate a lot of food," the chef said, not unkindly.
I was pushed toward a massive sink that was already overflowing with dirty dishes. The water was gray and soapy, with bits of food floating on the surface.
Next to me, Mira landed on the counter with a defeated sigh. The hare was placed on a step stool so it could reach the sink. Kitten Cowboy was given a tiny apron and a scrub brush.
"This is humiliating," the hare muttered.
"At least we're not in prison," I said, trying to be optimistic.
"This is prison," Mira said. "Just with dishes."
The chef clapped two of his hands together. "Alright, people! You've got eight hours to wash every dish in this kitchen. If you finish early, you can leave early. If you break anything, you work an extra hour. Questions?"
"Can we at least get some music?" I asked weakly.
"No," the chef said, and walked away.
The first hour was miserable.
My hands were already pruning from the hot water. The dishes kept coming in an endless stream—plates, bowls, pots, pans, utensils, serving trays. Some of them still had food stuck to them that seemed to be alive and actively fighting against being cleaned.
"This is your fault," the hare said for the tenth time.
"I know," I said.
"Your plan was terrible."
"I know."
"We could have just asked if they had any free food or work we could do."
"I—" I paused. "Actually, that's a good point. Why didn't I think of that?"
"Because you're an idiot," Mira said, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn pot.
Kitten Cowboy meowed sadly, its tiny paws struggling with a large spoon.
By the fourth hour, my hands were raw and my arms were trembling from exhaustion. But we'd made a visible dent in the mountain of dishes.
The chef walked by and nodded approvingly. "Not bad. You might actually finish on time."
"Yay," I said weakly.
At the eighth hour, I set down the final plate with a triumphant clink and slumped against the counter, exhausted.
"We did it," I breathed.
The chef appeared, inspecting our work with a critical eye. He checked the dishes, ran a finger along the edge of a pot, and held a plate up to the light. He licked it, then sniffed it.
Finally, he nodded. "Your debt is paid."
I could have cried with relief.
Sebastien appeared at the kitchen door. "You're free to go. And may I suggest that next time you dine at The Burning Spoon, you bring gold."
"Worth it," I said, grinning like an idiot.
I stood there, staring at the coins, when another notification popped up in my vision:
SKILL UNLOCKED: "Dishwashing - Level 1"
You have learned the ancient art of making plates shiny again.
Bonus: +2 Agility when handling slippery objects
Special Ability: Can now identify food residue by smell alone
I blinked at the notification.
TIP: Skills can evolve with practice. Master the way of the dish, and greater powers may await you.
"Greater powers?" I read aloud. "What, like... Super Dishwashing?"
Mira stared at me. "Did you just make a joke about dishwashing powers?"
Before I could respond, another notification appeared:
SKILL UNLOCKED: "Sarcasm - Level 1"
Congratulations! You've mastered the delicate art of meaning the exact opposite of what you say. Your mother would be so proud. Or would she?
Bonus: +3 Charisma when delivering cutting remarks
I blinked. "Oh great. Just what I needed. Hey! Don't bring my mother into this!"
Another notification popped up:
SKILL LEVEL UP: "Sarcasm - Level 2"
Well, well, well. Look who's getting good at this. You've achieved sarcasm-ception: being sarcastic about being sarcastic. This is either genius or a cry for help. Your mother would comment, but she's busy regretting you.
New Bonus: +5 Charisma when delivering cutting remarks
“Fuck you man.”
"Me?" asked Sebastien, looking confused.
"O— no no. I'm just… Gotta go!" I grabbed Mira, scooped up Kitten Cowboy, and bolted for the door.
"Come on!" I shouted at the hare, who was already hopping after us at full speed.
We burst through the restaurant doors and onto the street.
Evening had settled over the Hollow Kingdom—as I'd learned it was called—but the city showed no signs of slowing down. If anything, it pulsed with even more energy as darkness crept in. The ambient glow that lit the city shifted subtly, taking on warmer, more golden tones that cast long shadows between the buildings.
The streets were packed. Absolutely packed.
We pushed through crowds of every conceivable species, watching the flow of pedestrians with lazy interest.
"We should find somewhere to stay for the night," Mira said, flying close to my shoulder to avoid being knocked aside by the crowd. "You need sleep now, remember?"
"Yeah, yeah," I said distractedly, barely listening.
Because ahead of us, the street had changed.
The buildings here were different: more ornate, more deliberately designed. The architecture shifted from the chaotic mishmash of styles to something more cohesive: dark wood and red velvet visible through windows, wrought iron balconies with figures leaning against railings, and everywhere, everywhere, red lights.
Lanterns glowing crimson hung from every doorway. Neon signs in shades of scarlet and pink illuminated the street. Even the cobblestones seemed to reflect the red glow, making the entire district look like it was bathed in firelight.
And the people.
My steps slowed as I took it all in.
Women of every species stood in doorways, leaned against walls, sat on balconies above. They wore clothing that left little to the imagination.
A minotaur woman, easily seven feet tall with curved horns and powerful muscles beneath smooth, dark fur, stood in one doorway wearing what could generously be called a dress but was mostly strategic strips of red fabric. Her bovine eyes watched the passing crowd with calm confidence.
Next to her establishment, a tiger woman with orange and black stripes lounged on a velvet chaise that had been placed right on the street. Her tail swished lazily as she cleaned one clawed hand, her outfit a series of golden chains that caught the light.
"Daniel," Mira said, her voice sharp with warning. "Daniel, we should keep moving."
"Just... looking," I said, my eyes wide.
"Daniel, this is clearly a red light district. We need to find lodging somewhere else—"
"I'm just looking!" I protested, but my feet had already started carrying me deeper into the district.
The hare hopped nervously at my heels. "I DON'T LIKE THIS PLACE. IT FEELS DANGEROUS."
"It's fine," I said, though I wasn't entirely sure what I meant by that.
Kitten Cowboy sat in my arms, its golden eyes darting around the district.
As we walked deeper into the district, I realized it wasn't just women. There were men too—massive, muscular figures who could probably bench-press a building, shirtless and showing off physiques that looked carved from stone.
They stood in their own doorways, or lounged on their own balconies, watching the crowd with the same calm confidence as the women.
"Wow…"
"DANIEL," Mira said, flying in front of my face. "We need to find a place to sleep. A normal place. An inn. A hostel. Literally anywhere but here."
"Right, right," I said, nodding but not really listening. "We should definitely do that."
But I kept walking.
The district was intoxicating in a way I hadn't expected. Not just the obvious appeal of the barely-clothed figures, but the whole atmosphere. Music drifted from open windows—sultry, rhythmic, designed to pull you in. Incense burned in braziers along the street, filling the air with sweet, heady scents. Laughter echoed from balconies above. Everything felt alive in a way that was almost hypnotic.
There was something else. Something I couldn't quite name. A pull. An instinct.
Something kept pulling me here, I thought, frowning slightly. But I didn't know what yet.
It felt like standing at the edge of a cliff in the dark, knowing there was something important just out of sight, waiting to be discovered. Something inside me was trying to break free, reaching for something just beyond my grasp.
"This is fascinating," I said, which was true but also a massive understatement.
"This is dangerous," Mira countered. "You're broke, remember? You can't afford to be 'fascinated' by anything in this district."
"I'm just observing," I said defensively.
"You're gawking," she corrected.
A succubus with purple skin and small horns caught my eye and winked. I nearly tripped over my own feet.
"Okay," I admitted. "Maybe I'm gawking a little."
Mira grabbed my ear and pulled. "Come on. We're leaving."
"Ow! Okay, okay!" I said, trying to resist but not trying very hard.
But then a voice called out, smooth and melodic:
"Oh my goodness, is that a kitten?"
I froze.
A woman had stepped away from one of the doorways and was walking toward us. She was stunning—not in an otherworldly, impossible way, but in a very real, very dangerous way. She appeared mostly human, with long dark hair that fell in waves past her shoulders, golden eyes that seemed to glow slightly in the red light, and curved horns that swept back from her temples.
A demon, I realized. Or part demon. It was hard to tell.
She wore a dress—if it could be called that—made of black silk that clung to every curve and had a neckline that plunged dramatically. Gold jewelry adorned her neck and wrists, catching the light with every movement.
And she was walking directly toward me with a smile that made my newly-human heart stutter.
"Oh, he's adorable," she cooed, reaching out toward Kitten Cowboy. "May I?"
"Uh," I said intelligently.
She didn't wait for permission. Her fingers—tipped with carefully manicured nails painted gold—gently scratched behind Kitten Cowboy's ears.
The tiny gunslinger melted immediately. It began purring, leaning into her touch, its eyes half-closing in bliss.
"Traitor," I muttered to the kitten.
"What's his name?" the woman asked, her voice warm and genuinely interested.
"Kitten Cowboy," I said, still trying to remember how to form complete sentences.
She laughed—a sound like bells. "That's a perfect name." She continued petting the kitten, who was now completely limp in my arms. "I've always loved cats. They're so independent, but so affectionate when they choose to be. Just how I like my men to be."
"Yeah," I said, my brain finally starting to work again. "He's pretty great."
"DANIEL," Mira hissed in my ear. "Don't."
But I was already talking.
"I'm Daniel," I said, attempting something resembling charm.
The woman smiled wider. "I'm Lilith. It's nice to meet you, Daniel." She continued scratching Kitten Cowboy, who had now started making sounds that were less purrs and more tiny moans of pleasure. "Are you new to the district? I haven't seen you around before."
"New to the floor," I admitted. "Just got here today."
"A newcomer," she said, her golden eyes sparkling with interest. "How exciting. Are you exploring? Looking for entertainment?"
"I, uh..." I glanced down at Kitten Cowboy, who was completely useless, then back at Lilith. "I'm definitely... interested in the district."
But why? The feeling seemed both familiar and dangerous—or maybe both at once.
Mira made a sound like a tiny kettle reaching boiling point.
Lilith's smile took on a different quality—still friendly, but with an edge of professional assessment. "Well, if you're interested, I'd be happy to show you a good time. I have a lovely room upstairs. Very comfortable."
My heart was pounding. "That sounds... how much would that cost?" I said, then glanced at Mira and saw her angry, red face. "Hypothetically."
She tilted her head, considering. "For someone as cute as you? With such an adorable kitten? Let's say... five hundred gold for an hour. More if you want the whole night."
“Oh…” I said under my breath.
SKILL TRIGGERED: “Hormones — Level 1”
A long-dormant biological process has resumed.
Effect reduced by: Groin Guard.
"DANIEL," Mira said, no longer bothering to whisper. "You have ZERO gold. ZERO. We need to find somewhere to SLEEP, remember? Like an INN? A place we can maybe AFFORD?"
My brief fantasy didn't just crash—it exploded into a million pieces and then those pieces caught fire and fell into a very deep, very expensive pit.
"Right," I said, reluctantly dragging my eyes away from Lilith. "Right. Mira's right. We should find an inn. Somewhere to stay. Very responsible."
Lilith's expression shifted to something like sympathy. "Ah. Broke?"
"Completely," I admitted, shrugging.
"That's rough," she said, giving Kitten Cowboy one final scratch before stepping back. "Well, when you get some gold, come find me. I'll be here most nights." She winked.
"Pew," Kitten Cowboy said drowsily, still recovering from the pets.
I was about to respond—to say something clever, or thank her, or ask where exactly she'd be—when a voice cut through the ambient noise of the district.
"Psst. Hey. You there."
I turned.
Standing in the mouth of a narrow alley was a figure in a hooded cloak. The hood was pulled low, casting their face in deep shadow despite the red lights everywhere. The cloak itself was dark brown, worn and patched in places, hanging loose enough to hide their build.
Then I noticed it—a black-and-white ringed tail, thick and fluffy, swishing slowly behind them from beneath the cloak.
One hand—pale, with long fingers—beckoned us closer. Between those fingers, a gold coin rolled smoothly back and forth in a practiced, almost hypnotic motion.
"Yeah, you," the voice said. Male, I thought, but it was hard to tell. "Come here. Need to talk to you."
"Oh no," the hare whispered. "THIS IS HOW PEOPLE GET MURDERED."
"Probably. But I'm curious," I said.
Lilith had already turned and was walking back to her doorway, her attention moving to other potential clients passing by.
The hooded figure beckoned again, more insistently, the gold coin still dancing between their fingers. "Come on. You want to make some gold, don't you? I heard what she said. You're broke."
That got my attention.
"See?" I said to Mira. "Maybe this is an opportunity."
"Or a trap," Mira countered.
"THIS IS DEFINITELY A TRAP," the hare added.
Kitten Cowboy's paw had already moved to its revolver, the kitten now fully alert and ready for danger.
I looked at the hooded figure, then at my companions, then back at the figure.
"Let's at least hear what they have to say," I decided.
"This is a terrible idea," Mira said.
"But when has that ever stopped us?"
I walked toward the alley, my companions following reluctantly behind me.
The hooded figure stepped back as we approached, retreating deeper into the shadows of the alley. The red lights from the street barely penetrated here, leaving most of the narrow passage in darkness.
"That's far enough," the figure said, stopping about ten feet in. "Don't need the whole street seeing this conversation."
"Seeing what conversation?" I asked, my voice echoing slightly off the close walls.
As my eyes adjusted to the dimness, I could make out more details. The figure was tall—taller than me by a few inches. And now that we were closer, I could see spotted fur on the hand still rolling that gold coin, and the distinctive black-and-white ringed tail swaying behind them.
A snow leopard. Or rather, someone who was part snow leopard, part human.
The figure's other hand emerged from the cloak, holding a small pouch. It jingled softly with the unmistakable sound of more coins.
"I've got a job," the hooded figure said, the gold coin still dancing between their fingers with practiced ease. "Simple work. Good pay. You interested?"
"Hell yeah, I am!"