It was Saturday evening.
Yun-Ha Byun was sitting in her living room, scrolling through Delfa.
Her parents had left for the holiday in the morning. The pair of lovebirds liked going on dates, and Yun-Ha wanted nothing more than to have them out of the house for the night.
Min-Ha, her sister, wasn't home either. Her work as a stylist was keeping her busy.
At that moment, the bell of the house rang. Yun-Ha, who had been expecting it, jumped from her sofa and opened the door.
"Hey!"
"Hi!"
"We are on time, right?"
Her enthusiastic friends greeted her.
Yun-Ha invited them in. "What took you so long?"
"Jenny's mother was suspicious about what we were going to do," one of them answered.
Yun-Ha looked at Jenny. "You didn't tell her, did you?"
Jenny shook her head. "I did not."
"Did you watch yesterday's episode?" the short one chimed in.
"Oh my god, I couldn't sleep last night because of it. I felt so uncomfortable all night."
"It was hot though."
"Without context, maybe. But I felt so bad for poor Sarah."
"Me too."
Yun-Ha shushed them. "It will start soon, so take your seats."
She prepared some snacks as they settled down.
And soon, on the large TV, a popular opening sequence began.
The girls squealed frivolously.
The fourth episode of Binsfeld's Seven Princes of Hell had begun.
It started on a calmer note—with a series of shots showing Asmodeus's morning routine.
It had been a week since the last episode's events. Serving as his valet, Sarah had begun living in the mansion.
She polished his shoes, buttoned his shirt, and combed his hair. She dressed him up like a prince and made sure there wasn't anything he lacked.
In the morning, they spent quiet moments over tea. Her company—outside sexual matters—wasn't something Asmodeus particularly enjoyed, but neither did he hate it. He wasn't one for idle chatter, but he didn't find her unpleasant.
On rare occasions when he wasn't sleeping with someone or wasn't taking care of business, he didn't mind her presence.
He even found it a little soothing.
Meanwhile, Satan and Mammon had gathered in the basement of the shadiest of Mammon's bars. It was in a remote location.
"You want us to take down, Lucifer?" Mammon exclaimed dramatically.
He pretended to be surprised, but it was hard for him to hide the rising corners of his lips. He took a large gulp of his beer to stop him from grinning ear to ear.
"Do you have any idea what you are talking about here?"
"Mutiny," answered Satan, his voice heavy.
Mammon pretended to be horrified, but no such emotion graced him. Everything was going exactly as he had planned. This was an expected result for him.
Since their father's death, he had believed that it was only a matter of time before Satan did something drastic against Lucifer.
In his eyes, Satan was a ticking timebomb. He didn't see the merit in diffusing it when he could use the blast to obliterate his enemies. And his enemies were those who kept him from more riches.
That was why he chose to interfere before Satan ended up getting himself killed. He had managed to fan the flames of mutiny in Satan's heart. With little effort, he could now direct that hatred wherever he wished.
"Side with me, Mammon," Satan announced, his smoky voice giving the impression of a bellowing giant. "Side with me, and you will have a quarter of Lucifer's businesses—"
"Half," Mammon interrupted. "Half of his businesses—"
Before he could finish his sentence, a glass of scotch came flying at Mammon. It barely missed him and shattered as it hit the stone wall. Despite the rain of glass assaulting his back, Mammon retained his cold expression.
Satan glared at his brother like a wild animal observing its prey.
"Don't be funny with me," he growled ferociously. "A quarter, I said; a quarter, you will get."
Mammon opened his mouth, his lips slightly shaking. "A third of his businesses, then."
For a moment, there was absolute silence. It was the kind of atmosphere that could kill someone.
After about a minute, Satan nodded.
"A third, then."
Belphegor and Beelzebub might have snubbed him, but Satan thought that at least with Mammon everything had gone favorably. What he didn't realize was that this was all according to Mammon's plans.
Greedy Mammon had sowed the seed of retaliation, and he would reap the benefits. His excitement showed through the way he tapped his fingers on his knees under the table.
To him, it wasn't one bit difficult to manipulate his temperamental brother.
Once the talks between the two had concluded and Satan got up to leave, Mammon made a sudden suggestion.
"Have you talked to Asmodeus yet?" he asked. "That son of whore needs to pay back what he owes to the family."
He licked his lips in anticipation and lowered his voice.
"Should I go talk to him?"
"No, I will go."
And so, Satan left the basement.
There was silence in the room—a very brief silence that was suddenly disturbed by the sound of crazed laughter.
"Oh, dear brother," Mammon sang, "why must you be so stupid?!"
He held his aching stomach and banged his head on the table, laughing hysterically.
"Talk to Asmodeus, will you?" He kicked his chair away in joy. "He hates you!"
He pranced around.
"He is the symbol of neutrality in this family; he will never side with you! How do you not know any of this, you idiot?"
He shattered the wine bottles and rickety chairs in glee. He climbed on top of the table and juggled the coasters as he further schemed.
He was enjoying the madness that ran deep in his family.
Meanwhile, a group of armed guests was knocking on the front door of Lucifer's mansion.
"Mr. Lucifer Binsfeld, I presume?" the old man leading the group of policemen asked.
"Indeed," Lucifer replied, shaking the man's wrinkly hand. "And you would be?"
"Detective Kingsley Roy. I have been tasked with investigating a foul affair."
Lucifer looked at him with bored contempt. "And that would be?"
"The murder of Toni Altobelli."
The two stared at each other, neither uttering a word.
Lucifer invited him in. "And how can I help?"
"I am told he visited your mansion before his sudden death. Is that right?"
Detective Roy proceeded to ask a number of questions, which Lucifer skillfully answered without incriminating himself.
Detective Roy got up once they were finished. "That will be all for today."
"Mr. Roy," Lucifer called, as the detective was leaving with his men. "I must say, I find it funny."
Detective Roy didn't say anything; he only listened.
"There have been a great number of missing cases and murders in the area, and no one cared to look into it." He lit a cigarette and puffed out a perfectly circular ring of smoke. "But one American dies, and you show up at my door with cavalry in tow."
Detective Roy took a second before he tipped his hat. "Are you suggesting that we should reopen the murder and missing cases that you mentioned, Mr. Binsfeld?"
He took his cane, stepped out of the house, and turned around to look at Lucifer.
"What an honorable citizen you are, Mr. Binsfeld."
His accusatory stare did not affect Lucifer one bit. He wasn't even looking at the old man. His mild gaze was directed at one of the policemen behind him.
It was Mr. Butler. He gave Lucifer a slight nod while no one was noticing.
"Next time," — Lucifer walked up to the detective — "visit with a warrant in hand."
With a loud thud, he shut the door closed.