CHAPTER 92: HOLLOW

Chapter 92 – Hollow

She gave his hand a final squeeze and turned back toward the elevators. "Bye," she added, over her shoulder—calm, composed, like she didn’t just publicly soft-launch her demon boyfriend to her entire floor.

And with that, she walked away.

Lux caught her hand. "Wait—before you disappear into your mortal responsibilities," he said, dramatic, "suggest some fun things. You know. Vacation stuff."

She blinked. "Like...?"

"You know. What do mortals do when they’re not arguing about spreadsheets or ruining their backs at office chairs."

She smirked. "Go to the beach. Try a spa. Take a cooking class. Go wine tasting. Visit a museum. Walk a garden trail. Try local food. You know. Normal things."

Lux nodded slowly, processing the words like someone studying ancient script.

None of that sounded remotely appealing.

He’d already tried all of it before—just with hellish upgrades. The spa had infernal lava pools hot enough to melt bone, staffed by flame elementals who massaged you with molten obsidian stones.

The cooking class? A private session with a seven-star glutton demon who specialized in aphrodisiac cuisine—half the dishes moaned when served.

And the wine tasting? Oh, that was held in a vault deep beneath the Bone Market, where the bottles were aged in souls, each vintage echoing the last regrets of the noble it was pressed from.

But all of it... had been for work. Lobbying. Entertaining warlords. Appeasing allies. Playing the game.

And somehow... he didn’t feel like doing any of it now.

Because it all felt like working.

But still. He smiled.

"Okay. Thanks."

She hesitated, then squeezed his hand. "Tonight. Auction. Don’t disappear."

"Not unless I get abducted by angels."

"You’d seduce them in two minutes."

"Probably."

And then she was gone, elevator doors swallowing her in a reflection of city glass and lipstick warpaint.

Lux exhaled.

He turned, walking back out into the sunlight.

His motorcycle was waiting, parked under shade.

He slipped his helmet back on, settled into the seat, and revved the engine once.

Alone.

Again.

The silence was familiar. Almost nostalgic. But it didn’t sting the way it did yesterday when Naomi left.

No, this time he was... thoughtful.

What did he want to do?

Steal? Conquer? Find coffee?

[You still have one unused Therapy Coupon, sir.]

Lux groaned into the wind. "Oh yeah. That."

[Also recommended: sightseeing. You could observe mortals. Study their habits. Or look for suitable assets.]

"Looking around sounds better than soul-searching."

[Tracking locations of interest...]

[Best match based on current profile: Coastal District. High beach traffic. Tourist vibes. Coffee potential: 87%. Hidden luxury café detected.]

"Perfect."

He rode.

Passed traffic. Billboards. Markets. A rooftop jazz bar with notes drifting lazily through the open sky. He could feel the city breathing—layered with noise, neon, stray thoughts, and too much hope. Even with its chaos, it had rhythm. That strange, mortal buzz that made everything feel like it was about to start but never quite did.

Lux rode past it all with one hand on the throttle, the other occasionally tapping his knee in rhythm with the wind. No destination. Just curiosity.

He turned toward the Coastal District. Five minutes later, sea air hit him in the face—salty, fresh, sun-warmed. Like someone had bottled summer and uncorked it just for him.

He slowed down and pulled into a beachside lot, tires crunching softly over white sand that had spilled onto the road. The ocean stretched out ahead, lazy and shimmering, pale turquoise fading into endless blue. Gulls circled overhead, and the wind tugged at his jacket gently, like a welcome.

Lux didn’t get off the bike.

He just killed the engine and sat there for a moment, resting his boots on the ground, exhaling slowly as the breeze brushed over his skin.

The view was... nice. That was the word. Nice. Warm. Peaceful.

But somehow... hollow.

He reached up, unlatched his helmet, and pulled it off. His hair caught the wind immediately, tousled again like chaos had kissed it. He rested the helmet on the gas tank and just stared out at the sea.

Yeah. It was a beach.

Just... a beach.

Nothing more.

Just mortals walking dogs, kids building uneven sandcastles, and the occasional jogger with earbuds and a thousand-yard stare.

And somehow it felt empty. At least, that’s what Lux feels.

"So... mortals came here just to jog and swim?" he muttered.

Lux’s gaze drifted to the boardwalk, where a group of young women were strolling past. Students, probably. They looked like they’d just come out of some coastal university—matching hoodies, bare legs, laughter that tried to sound casual but tilted toward curiosity the moment they saw him.

One of them waved.

Lux raised his hand and smiled.

She giggled.

Another one shouted, "Nice bike!"

Lux smirked and shouted back, "Nice timing."

They laughed and walked on.

And that was it.

He could’ve gone after it. Teased more. Invited them for coffee, or a ride, or a story too ridiculous to believe. But the moment passed, like waves brushing over sand that never kept shape.

He exhaled again. "Just a beach," he muttered.

Then he revved the engine lightly and pulled back onto the street.

One turn later, tucked behind a flower-draped gate and nestled under the canopy of a crooked old fig tree, he found it.

A small café.

Modern lines. Rustic charm. Wide front windows that caught the afternoon light. Hanging flowerpots. Warm wood. The sign above the entrance carved into an old piece of driftwood. A sleeping fox curled around a cup of steam.

[System Notification: Location matched. "Fox & Bloom." 5-Star Hidden Gem. Emotional recovery potential: 91%. Barista: Hot.]

Lux parked, dismounted, and stood in front of the little café.

It smelled like almond croissants and espresso dreams—warm, toasty, with just a hint of something spiced and secret, like cinnamon that had lived through a scandal.

He stared at the wooden sign above the door for a second longer. Fox & Bloom. The kind of name that sounded handcrafted, curated, soft on the tongue but dangerous if you underestimated it.

Of course, he was already walking forward before he finished that thought.

He chuckled under his breath.

It was funny, wasn’t it?

No matter where he went—new city, new realm, beachside or mountainside—he always ended up in a coffee shop. Like it was gravitational. Like his soul, despite being part demon and full disaster, still ran on caffeine and ambiance.

And therapy? Therapy was just espresso with better branding.