But the full racks of cold éclairs and maple bars didn’t lie.

And then there was Markus. What was she going to do about him? When he woke up in the morning, he’d think this was a dream. A nightmare.

But, as Lan knew all too well, nightmares always return.

“Shizuka, Shizuka, Shizuka,” Tremon chuckled. “You’re still the Queen of Hell.”

The two of them were at a French pâtisserie in Arcadia. Tremon sipped his coffee and tasted the mille-feuille. He put his fork down and applauded.

“This is wonderful. My compliments to the maître pâtissier.”

“I’ll tell him. And yes, he studied in Paris at Lenôtre.” The server smiled and scurried away.

“And to you, Shizuka, as well. I doubt that I could have done better with her.” He inhaled another bite of pastry. “So fresh, so sweet. Damning souls can be such thankless work. They plead, they curse—even though they swore they would do anything for fame.”

Tremon pointed with his fork.

“But trust the Queen of Hell to find a grateful transgender runaway from an abusive home. Ha! Talk about paying your debts on the cheap.”

Before Shizuka could reply, a spotless Asian man came out and greeted Tremon in fluent French. Tremon’s eyes widened, and they had a long animated conversation, which ended with Tremon getting up from his chair and patting the chef on the back.

The pastry chef smiled and strode proudly away.

“With his skills, this man could be working in Europe,” the demon declared. “But I suppose it’s like music. You can find gems in the most improbable places. You are quite the priceless gem yourself, remember?”

“Ah, Tremon, that was a long time ago.”

He snorted. “Silly girl. Your music is timeless. The world will love to hear you play again.”

For a moment, the Queen of Hell did not know what to say.

“So, shall we give her the bow and sign the deal? I believe we have more than enough to work with.”

“I still have six months, Tremon,” Shizuka said suddenly.

“Is there an issue?”

“Of course not. This is my soul we’re discussing. But we have time. And besides, wouldn’t you like a more polished product?”

Tremon looked like he was about to say something, then stopped himself.

“Shizuka … It’s a shame that you had to be beautiful,” he finally said.

“Tremon?”

He bowed, then got up and left.

Shizuka smiled uncomfortably. But her body shook, as if recovering from stage fright. What was going on? There was no problem. She had time. Katrina still had more to learn.

No.

Don’t be stupid, Satomi. Tremon was right. This was business.

Hell, it was more than business. This was her soul at stake, her music, everything she was.

So why couldn’t she just say yes?