Another few centuries passed by.
Time in Hell was always so long it became numbing; dust and gunsmoke mixed with the scent of sulfur, cycling repeatedly between ruin and reconstruction.
Ever since Alastor had caused that massive scene at the toy factory, engaging in an earth-shattering battle with Spade’s legion of factory dolls, the lingering scent of madness from that fight could still be smelled throughout Hell.
Spade had put his heart and soul into a top-to-bottom, inside-and-out renovation of his precious factory.
After all, when you have a massive brawl inside a factory filled with assembly lines and mechanical gears that run day and night, the precision production lines, doll molds, and even the secret workshops hidden in the depths are bound to be smashed to pieces.
A complete rebuild was only logical.
Because of this, the toy factory had completely suspended operations for a period.
The gates were locked tight; not even a fly from Hell could get in.
No business meant no income, and no income meant Spade’s source of wealth was cut off.
Bored out of his mind, the massive clown demon could only wander aimlessly through various territories of Hell to kill the maddeningly long hours.
By sheer coincidence, as he was wandering today, he unconsciously reached the border of Carmilla’s territory.
Spade hadn’t thought much of it at first, but the image of those two lively and well-behaved young girls suddenly flashed through his mind.
On a whim, he found himself heading toward Carmilla’s residence.
The two demon guards at the entrance had long grown accustomed to this terrifying clown demon.
Almost as a reflex, they respectfully opened the doors to Carmilla’s home before Spade could even speak.
It was almost laughable; these guards were just bottom-tier Sinners who knew exactly where they stood.
Who would dare offend an Overlord like Spade, whose power was as terrifying as his personality was unpredictable?
Taking the path of least resistance was the best strategy for staying alive.
Spade stepped into Carmilla’s home with natural ease, his gaze sweeping over the luxurious and grand living room.
Everything was exactly as it was in the original timeline—this was the place where Carmilla had helped Vaggie break the suppression within her body, allowing her white angel wings to grow back.
Spade knew the layout like the back of his hand, feeling no sense of unfamiliarity as he walked straight toward Carmilla’s office.
At that moment, Carmilla was buried at her desk, dealing with a mountain of documents thick enough to bury half her body.
Her pen flew across the paper, her brow furrowed with exhaustion and impatience.
Hearing the office door open, she assumed it was her daughters, Odette and Clara.
Without looking up, she spoke in a voice tinged with a trace of irritation: “Odette, Clara, I have a mountain of business to attend to right now.
Don’t disturb me for a moment.
Be good girls.” Spade had just bent his massive five-meter-tall frame to step into the office when he froze at Carmilla’s words.
Realizing she had mistaken him for the two girls, he let out a low, playful chuckle filled with amusement.
One had to remember that Spade stood five meters tall, far exceeding the size of any Sinner Overlord in Hell.
Even the dinosaur Overlord, famous for her size, would look a bit short in front of him.
In his daily life, bending down and lowering his head to enter other demons’ homes had become a habit.
Being misidentified actually made him find the situation quite funny.
“Hehehe…
old friend, I’m certainly not your little daughters.” That unique, teasing voice rang out in the office.
Carmilla, who had been focused on her paperwork, stiffened before slowly looking up to see the massive figure of Spade at the door.
She instinctively raised a hand to rub her aching temples, her voice a mix of apology and helplessness.
“I am truly sorry.
It’s you, Spade.
I thought Odette and Clara had come in to cause trouble again.” Spade slowly straightened his body as much as he could, maintaining his roguish demeanor as he teased her.
“It looks like territorial affairs are still leaving you breathless, my dear Carmilla.” As he spoke, Spade walked slowly to Carmilla’s desk.
His clawed hand, tipped with sharp nails, casually picked up a document from the top of the pile.
He flipped through it mindlessly, continuing his playful banter.
“Quite a mountain of important documents indeed.
All the trivial matters of Hell still require the signature of an Overlord in the end.
You truly work hard, hehehe.” Listening to Spade’s teasing, Carmilla sighed deeply and set down her bracelet-pen.
She slowly stood up from her office chair, her posture elegant yet carrying the fatigue of someone tortured by bureaucracy.
“Hardly as much as you.
As soon as your factory stops, you spend your time wandering all over Hell.
Such leisure makes one green with envy!
What, did you come here specifically to amuse yourself at my expense?” Carmilla’s voice softened unconsciously.
The icy sharpness she usually held for other demons vanished, replaced by a warmth reserved only for an old friend.
Her gaze lingered on Spade’s massive frame with a hint of something intimate.
Seeing this, Spade waved his clawed hand dismissively, a teasing smile curling his lips to show he wouldn’t be swayed by her words.
“Oh, stop it.
I won’t be so easily manipulated by a few words.” A flash of cunning crossed Carmilla’s eyes.
She had always preferred the soft approach over force, but with an old fox like Spade, ordinary methods were useless.
She looked up slightly, a faint flirtatiousness shimmering in her eyes.
She quietly employed a “honey trap” strategy, stepping lightly toward Spade.
Her high heels clicked against the polished floor, step by step, closing the distance.
Watching the suddenly tender and seductive Carmilla, Spade’s massive body actually moved back instinctively until his back hit the cold wall.
He had nowhere to go.
Carmilla drew closer, her rich fragrance swirling around Spade’s nose.
She was almost pressed against him, her warm breath ghosting over his skin.
Her eyes, usually so sharp, were now filled with tenderness and flirtation as she seemed on the verge of touching him.
Spade remained unmoved on the surface, his heart calm.
He clearly wasn’t going to fall for this seductive play, yet he watched Carmilla with interest to see what other tricks she had up her sleeve.
Just as the romantic tension reached its peak, a hurried yet polite knock on the door suddenly rang out, instantly shattering the delicate atmosphere.
The two of them reacted as if they had been paused and then suddenly restarted, instantly resuming their usual postures and moving back to their places without a word.
Carmilla turned elegantly and sat back in her chair, picking up her pen and acting as though she were hard at work.
Spade leaned lazily against the wall, picking up a document and pretending to read it, as if that intimate moment had never happened.
Carmilla cleared her throat and spoke in a deep voice: “Come in.” The office door was pushed open.
The calm and composed Odette stepped in first, followed by her lively younger sister, Clara.
Both sisters held the latest territorial reports, intending to present them to their mother for review.
However, when they saw the massive figure of Spade leaning against the wall, they both froze for a moment.
They quickly regained their composure and, despite having things on their minds, greeted Spade politely.
Their tone was respectful yet carried a hint of closeness.
“It has been a long time, Uncle Spade.” In private, the sisters might have used a different form of address, but in formal settings, they were always well-behaved and called him “Uncle,” not daring to be disrespectful.
Seeing them, Spade immediately dropped his playful attitude with Carmilla and replaced it with a warm, enthusiastic smile.
He teased the two girls: “Ah, you two little ones finally arrived.
If you’d been a step later, your mother might have ‘stolen’ me away, hehehe.” Odette and Clara exchanged a look, their faces filled with confusion.
What did he mean, their mother was going to steal Uncle Spade?
The words were baffling, and for a moment, the sisters didn’t know how to respond.
Carmilla coughed lightly to break the awkward silence and addressed her daughters.
“Bring the reports here.” Odette and Clara snapped out of it and hurried to present the report sheets respectfully to their mother, not daring to look at the grinning Spade beside them.
Carmilla took the reports, scanned them quickly, and saw the gist of things.
She gave a few brief instructions and dismissed her daughters.
A few minutes later, Odette and Clara returned to their respective rooms, each carrying an exquisite bag and looking quite pleased as they prepared to enjoy the delicacies inside.
The bags contained angel meat cooked by Spade himself—the very last of his stock.
After all, he couldn’t come to Carmilla’s territory empty-handed; he had to prepare something the two girls liked most.
When he had time later, he planned to hunt a few more angels to replenish his inventory.
Inside the office, a serving of cooked angel meat was also placed before Carmilla.
She picked up her utensils and took small bites.
The flavor was so delicious she couldn’t help but narrow her eyes slightly in enjoyment.
She set down her fork and looked at Spade, who was helping her process the remaining documents.
Her voice was curious and probing as she asked: “Spade, I’m curious.
What exactly is this meat you brought?
The taste is so unique; it’s certainly not a common ingredient found in Hell.” Spade, who had already relieved Carmilla of most of her workload by processing a mountain of files at high speed, simply used a casual excuse to brush her off.
“It’s just a rare delicacy seldom seen in Hell.
Don’t overthink it.
We’re old friends; I just wanted you to have a taste of the good stuff.” Carmilla huffed softly, a flash of realization in her eyes, but she didn’t press him.
She said with a smile: “Hmph, I knew you were a man of many secrets.
Fine, if you don’t want to say, I won’t ask.” With that, Carmilla continued to enjoy the delicious angel meat while Spade, at the desk, processed the remaining files with incredible efficiency.
In the large office, the scent of sulfur was replaced by the aroma of fine food.
Flirtation and the silent understanding of old friends intertwined, brewing a moment of unique, relaxed tenderness in the long stretches of time in Hell.