Dressed in loose, comfortable loungewear, Chen Jing strained as she dragged a heavy wooden chest out of her bedroom. The sound of the chest scraping against the floor sent an earsplitting screech through the apartment, prompting Lucifer to lift his head from the sofa. He frowned, his gaze locking onto the chest's intricate carvings.
"Are you moving out or trying to devise new ways to torment me with noise?" Lucifer's voice was as cold as ever, though his interest lingered on the old chest's ornate patterns, etched with an air of age and mystery.
"Shut it. This is my grandpa's treasure trove," Chen Jing huffed, finally positioning the chest in the center of the living room. Dust rose into the air as she slapped its lid with a victorious grin. "Full of exorcist gear—could be just what we need tonight."
Lucifer arched an eyebrow and approached the chest, his towering frame casting a shadow over it. "These decrepit mortal trinkets are supposed to fend off wraiths?"
"Don't underestimate them!" Chen Jing shot him a glare before crouching down to unlatch the chest. "My grandpa was a legendary exorcist. Every single item here has a story."
The lid creaked open, releasing a faint aroma of sandalwood. Inside lay an assortment of items: talismans, a peachwood sword, a brass bell, and several yellowing notebooks filled with handwritten notes. Interspersed were small objects—red threads, mirrors, paperweights, and oddly-shaped jade stones.
"Whoa…" Chen Jing pulled out the peachwood sword, her fingers running along its worn hilt. A soft smile played on her lips. "This was my favorite toy as a kid. Grandpa even taught me how to draw talismans with it."
"Your grandfather," Lucifer began, his tone curious yet distant, "who was he?"
Chen Jing held up a talisman, her expression bittersweet. "He was an exorcist, specialized in taking down all kinds of spirits and demons. My parents… were in the same line of work."
"Were?" Lucifer caught the subtle shift in her tone, his sharp gaze narrowing. "Why the past tense?"
Her fingers trembled slightly as she set the talisman back in the chest. Her voice grew quieter. "They disappeared when I was a kid. They were investigating some paranormal incident and… never came back. Everyone said they died, but I always thought…"
She trailed off, shaking her head before forcing a smile. "Never mind. It's old news."
Lucifer's gaze softened—though barely—as he probed further. "Your grandfather raised you, then?"
"Yeah." Her smile grew wistful. "He was amazing—knew tons of spells, crafted his own tools, and always had these crazy stories. He tried teaching me a lot of stuff, but I was too much of a brat to take it seriously."
"That much is evident," Lucifer muttered, his eyes scanning the chest's contents. His gaze settled on the brass bell, faint energy emanating from it. "These relics have some power, but they're insufficient to confront Beelzebub's minions. Delusionally so."
"At least they don't fizzle out like your shaky flames," Chen Jing shot back with a smirk, pulling out a faded notebook. "Here—Grandpa's journal. It's full of techniques for dealing with spirits and demons. I didn't learn much from it, but it looks pretty legit."
Lucifer accepted the notebook, flipping through the aged pages. His frown deepened. "These sigils might work against minor spirits, but if tonight's foes are anything like last night's, this is woefully inadequate."
"I know." Chen Jing sighed, slipping a string of prayer beads onto her wrist. "That's why I'm bringing everything I can. Better odds of staying alive."
Lucifer shook his head, muttering, "Mortals and their misplaced faith." Yet, he continued to inspect the artifacts with unspoken respect.
Digging deeper, Chen Jing uncovered a small wooden box from the bottom of the chest. Inside was a single, faintly glowing golden bead. She held it up to the light, her brows furrowed in thought. "Grandpa said this was for fighting some super-strong monster, but he never got the chance to teach me how to use it."
Lucifer's gaze locked onto the bead. His eyes flickered with recognition—and caution. The bead radiated a subtle yet potent energy, one he couldn't quite place.
"That bead…" Lucifer reached out to touch it, but Chen Jing quickly pulled it away.
"Hands off!" she snapped, glaring at him. "If you break my grandpa's stuff, can you afford to replace it?"
Lucifer's lips twitched into a brief scowl, but he withdrew his hand. He crossed his arms, stepping back with an air of indifference. Yet, his gaze lingered on the bead, his mind clearly elsewhere.
Satisfied with her inventory, Chen Jing shut the chest and dusted off her hands. "Okay, this should be enough. Tonight, we'll bring all of this and see how those creepy things like a taste of Grandpa's legacy."
"Let's hope your confidence lasts," Lucifer said coolly, returning to his post by the window. "Just don't slow me down."
"You're more likely to drag me down," she retorted, sticking her tongue out at him. "Seriously, Mr. High-and-Mighty, let's see how far your 'hellfire' gets us without these 'mortal trinkets.'"
After arranging the items neatly in a bag, Chen Jing flopped onto the sofa, holding a folded talisman between her fingers. She glanced over at Lucifer, an impish grin spreading across her face.
"Shen Lu," she teased, "you're not really scared of those 'monsters,' are you?"
Lucifer remained silent for a moment, his silhouette stark against the moonlight streaming through the window. When he finally turned to her, his voice was measured and icy.
"The King of Hell fears nothing," he said. "Last night was merely… prudence, not fear."
"Uh-huh." Chen Jing propped her chin on her hand, a playful twinkle in her eyes. "Sure didn't look like prudence when your face turned pale, and you almost tripped over yourself running away."
Lucifer's stoic mask cracked for the briefest second. His expression darkened as he struggled to maintain his composure. "Mind your tongue, mortal. What you call fear was nothing more than—"
"Just admit it! You think our Eastern ghosts are scarier than your Western ones!" Chen Jing burst into laughter, clutching her sides. "I knew it! The mighty King of Hell has a soft spot for creepy, long-haired girls in white dresses!"
Lucifer's eyes blazed with indignation. "Nonsense! Eastern spirits are…" He hesitated, his voice dropping into an uncharacteristically sheepish murmur. "…disturbing in their own way."
Chen Jing doubled over, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Oh, this is gold! Wait till the other Demon Kings hear about this—Lucifer, the King of Hell, prefers Western ghosts because they're cuter!"
Lucifer's fists clenched, black flames licking at his fingertips. He inhaled sharply through his nose, his patience fraying. "Enough. Speak another word, and you'll regret it."
Chen Jing managed to stifle her laughter, wiping her eyes. "Okay, okay, I'll stop. But admit it—our ghosts have way more personality."
Lucifer fixed her with a frosty glare, but he didn't argue. The room fell quiet, save for the faint rustling of the wind outside. Yet, beneath their banter, an unspoken resolve formed between them—a shared determination to face whatever awaited in the shadows.