A Peacock Husband of Five Princesses by day, a Noble Assassin by Night-Chapter 211

Mephisto stepped closer, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve. "Nothing to worry about, Milady," he said lightly. "We will not consume your soul even after your father passed away. We have to put you to some use."

Evelyn's voice broke. "W-what do you want from me?"

Mephisto gave a pleasant smile. "Work."

She blinked. "Work?"

"Yes. After we claim your soul, you will become an employee at our little establishment. Greet guests. Serve them. Do what you're told."

His eyes glowed faintly gold. "And if you perform well, you will earn a ticket to the spirit realm."

"And if I don't?"

He shrugged casually. "It goes without saying that your soul will be consumed."

As she gulped in stress, Mephisto smiled warmly, "Everything depends on your effort. Now come with me…"

Even though Evelyn was in spirit form and she was already stressed by the current scenario, she still couldn't help but blush when she saw his warm smile that seemed trusting for her, for some reason.

The world grew dim around them, colors draining like wet paint.

Evelyn's hand trembled as she slipped it into Mephisto's waiting palm.

The moment their hands touched, they disappeared into the portal.

Then the ground steadied beneath her feet.

She exhaled shakily and opened her eyes.

The scene before her didn't belong to any world she knew.

A grand hotel towered above her. It was a palace of glass and marble, glowing brightly in the dark night. The sign above the revolving doors glowed with elegant lettering:

M Resort

It looked like a five-star luxury hotel for the rich and bored—only it wasn't built for the living. Tall pillars framed the entrance with their surfaces carved with symbols that rippled faintly, as if they were alive.

Evelyn whispered, "This… this can't be real."

Mephistopheles dusted an invisible speck from his coat. "Everything here is real, Milady. Real for those who have died with an unpaid debt."

He walked forward without waiting. Evelyn swallowed her fear and followed.

The glass doors parted silently as they entered.

Inside, the lobby stretched ahead with crystal chandeliers hanging from a ceiling painted with constellations she did not recognize. Soft classical music floated through the air, soothing and quite hypnotic.

Behind a polished counter sat a woman with glossy black hair and a smile everyone in the world once recognized. "Welcome to M Resort." She greeted them warmly.

Evelyn froze at once. "Actress… Rozanne?" her voice cracked in disbelief.

The receptionist, Rozanne, the legendary star who died of blood cancer years ago, lifted her gaze to look at her.

Evelyn staggered closer to the demon. "It is her… Isn't it?"

Mephistonodded, not bothering to hide his amusement. "Rozanne joined us right after her passing due to an unpaid debt. She has yet to prove her worth to us, though. And going on, you will encounter many celebrities like her, some still in guest rooms, while some are working."

Rozanne clasped her hands politely. "Please come here, Miss Evelyn. We need to register your details. Once the paperwork is done, we'll provide accommodations."

The word paperwork stunned her almost as much as seeing a dead celebrity at a reception desk.

Evelyn signed her name, her date of birth, her human-world residence—details that felt heavier now that she knew she would never return to that world.

After the forms glowed faintly and vanished into thin air, Rozanne stood. "Everything is in order. I'll send an escort to show you your room."

Evelyn nodded, still numb, and a staff member led her away through the shimmering hallway.

As she disappeared from sight, the lobby grew quieter.

Mephisto remained standing in place, his posture seemed relaxed, and his expression unreadable.

Rozanne watched Evelyn leave, then turned back to her boss. "Boss, that woman makes the 194th guest we've had in the resort. Including employees like me, we now have 68 souls working under contract."

Mephisto didn't react. "Yes. And?"

Rozanne hesitated, lowering her voice. "Madam Lilith… she's been impatient lately. She keeps complaining that the resort has been overcrowded. she doesn't want to share her home with so many mortal souls..."

Mephistopheles chuckled—low, smooth, and dangerously amused. "Well, when you see her, remind her this is the twelfth year."

Rozanne stiffened. "T-Twelfth year…?"

"Yes," he replied softly, eyes gleaming like molten gold. "The year when I claim that child's soul. And I believe only a few weeks are left."

A faint ripple passed through the air, as though the resort itself was listening.

Mephisto turned toward the grand staircase, his coat trailing behind him like a shadow. "Everything will be right on time."

*

Several days later;

Coco Supermart, Blackburn City;

At the Supermart, the evening announcement hummed through the ceiling speakers, warm and polite:

"We sincerely thank our customers once again for shopping at Coco Supermart. We are open today until 10 P.M. Have a pleasant evening."

The chime that followed was cheerful, almost overly so—too bright for the tired employees who had been standing since noon.

At Counter No.3, a young woman, barely eighteen, stood behind the register. She wore the standard blue apron and a faded name tag clipped near her shoulder.

Her hair was tied up in a simple ponytail, and her expression carried the familiar dull patience found in all minimum-wage workers.

Across from her stood an elderly woman, hunched slightly, squinting down at a carton of eggs as if they were suspects in a crime.

"Twenty-five… twenty-six… twenty-seven… twenty-eight…" the old woman murmured, counting each egg with slow, trembling fingers.

The girl forced a polite smile, though irritation twitched at the corner of her mouth. "Ma'am, you've already counted it three times. It's twenty-eight eggs, priced at a discounted price of 8.5 dollars. Are we good? I'll pack it now."

She reached out to take the tray.

But before her hand could touch it, the elderly woman suddenly grabbed her wrist.

The girl's expression shifted instantly—just a tiny change, so fast it almost seemed imagined. Her fingers stiffened, her shoulders tensed, and her eyes blinked once too slowly.

The old woman froze.

Then, in a trembling voice that didn't quite sound like a complaint anymore, she began speaking.

"My eldest son..." she whispered, staring at nothing, "he is already thirty-four… and still has no job. He failed another interview yesterday. My husband says we should stop supporting him, but—he's my boy. How can a mother just—"

Her voice cracked, drifting into a fragile confession.

The young girl swallowed and cleared her throat. "I… I see, ma'am," she said carefully. "You must be really upset." 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

She freed her hand gently without making a scene and finished packing the eggs. The elderly woman left looking lighter than before, as if she had spilled something heavy without meaning to.

The girl simply let out a long, tired exhale. She rubbed her wrist once, as though the touch had left a faint ache beneath the skin.

A few minutes later, another customer stepped forward—a 37-year-old woman with a basket full of small household items.

Soap, noodles, cold coffee cans. Mundane stuff.

The young girl scanned each item, placed them neatly in a paper bag, and said, "That'll be twenty-two dollars and seventy cents."

The customer dug into her purse, took out a fifty-dollar note, and handed it to the girl.

When they did, their fingers brushed.

It was just for a second, but just like before, something shifted.

The woman's eyes widened faintly, her expression going blank, her voice falling to a softer tone. "Yes… I'm thirty-seven," she murmured, almost dreamlike. "Thirty-seven and still stupid in love…"

The young girl shut her eyes in resigned frustration.

The woman continued in a strange half-trance, "I met a married man years ago. He had a wife, kids, everything… but I fell for him. And they all called me names—homewrecker, destroyer—but it only made us grow closer. I don't regret a thing. Not one thing."

Her voice tightened, trembling between hurt and pride.

The girl sighed—heavy, annoyed, and exhausted. She tapped the counter lightly. "Okay, ma'am… I get it. Please take your change."

The woman blinked, snapped back into herself, took the bag, and hurried off without a second look.

As she left, the young girl rubbed her forehead and muttered to herself, annoyed:

"Great… another secret I didn't ask for."

She shook her head gently, ponytail swaying as she turned to the next customer, forcing a tired smile.

The automatic doors slid shut behind the last customer, leaving behind the faint hum of refrigerators and the smell of cardboard and detergent.

Just as the 18-year-old was stacking the receipt slips, Dale strode over—tall, broad-shouldered, the kind of guy who made half the customers smile a little too brightly. he was a university student, working here part-time, but annoyingly charming.

He leaned his elbows on her counter. "Any interesting stories today, Ames?"

Amy didn't even look up. "Yeah. Found another adulterer."

Dale blinked. "Eh?"

"Don't ask," she muttered, waving him off with a tired hand.