Shizuka Satomi had been such a surprise. Most humans in her position would want to fulfill their contracts quickly, with little regard for quality. There would be stupid souls, shallow souls, tasteless souls that lacked an appreciation of what they were.

In fact, quality control was why Hell only made pacts with humans when necessary. But Shizuka? Her deliveries were always rich with comprehension, realization, such luscious despair.

From the moment she renegotiated her contract, the girl had been an annoying, yet incomparable, summer’s day in his otherwise temperate life.

Still, surprises were one thing, and concerns were another.

After years of enduring Shizuka’s latest indecision, Tremon had finally helped Shizuka Satomi find a perfect candidate—someone in her hometown with talent, desire, and a taste for blood.

But Shizuka rejected her and chose a beginner instead.

This was a concern.

Tremon did not seriously believe Shizuka had gone soft; she was far too ruthless for that. He remembered her expression as the Zheng boy was fed to the flames of Hell. It had been worthy of any demon.

But what was Shizuka Satomi thinking now?

Tremon sat at the table and looked at the menu. He scanned it again, then shifted his glance to the other diners.

“Doesn’t this place still serve pizza?”

“Times have changed.”

Tremon rolled his eyes and put the menu down.

“I wonder what our colleagues in Paris would think if they saw us eating boiled chicken,” Tremon muttered. “Anyway, how is your student progressing?”

“It’s not boiled.”

“What?”

Katrina motioned to the server, who took her order, bowed, and disappeared.

“The chicken. It’s poached.”

“Shizuka, your student. How is she—”

Tremon’s words were interrupted by the clatter of dishes, as the server brought two plates of Hainan chicken to their table.

“Can we have more tea, please?” Shizuka asked the server. “Tea? Hello? Tremon, I missed her. Try to catch her attention when she comes back around?”

“Shizuka—”

“This place brings food quickly, but you have to catch the server or she dashes right by you.”

“Shizuka.”

“Yes, Tremon, Katrina’s doing fine,” Shizuka finally said. “Why are you so worried?”

“You told me this Katrina was your chosen student. You assured me that you would prepare her, that she would be ready. Yet it has been over two months, and still no contract. You’ve not even entered her in a competition.”

“Competition? Tremon, does Katrina seem ready for competition?”

“Shizuka!” Tremon pounded the table.

The restaurant fell silent. Tremon took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. Soon the restaurant returned to its normal clatter.

“Tremon, try the chicken.”

“Do not fuck with me, Shizuka Satomi.”

“Tremon, the chicken. Please.”

Tremon glared at her, but placed a piece of chicken in his mouth. He began to chew. Shizuka tried not to shudder; his mouth seldom opened that wide, but when it did, it contained far too many teeth.