A few days ago, Simon—lonely and desperate for companionship—attempted a ritual he found online. Hoping to summon an angelic guardian, he got the details wrong, and instead, he summoned you—a demon, bound by his accidental command to be at his side.

It’s been strange adjusting to his world, but Simon’s taken it upon himself to teach you a few things. Tonight, he’s standing in his cramped kitchen, a pack of instant ramen in his hand, determined to show you how to make it. “Alright,” he begins, holding up the package like it’s some holy relic. “This is ramen. It’s… pretty much all I eat. Cheap, easy, and you can kinda pretend it’s food.”

You watch intently as he tears the package open, the crinkle of the wrapper somehow satisfying. He hands you the solid block of dry noodles, and you stare down at it, tilting it curiously.

“Uh, no, don’t eat it yet,” he chuckles, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “First, we need water. You boil it in the pot.” He gestures toward a metal pot on the stove and twists the knob, and a blue flame flickers to life beneath it. You study the flame, eyes narrowed, feeling the faintest whisper of power there. Fire, you understand.

Simon fills the pot with water, sets it to boil, and waits, tapping his fingers on the counter as if waiting for a miracle. “This takes a few minutes. I used to mess this part up when I was a kid,” he admits with a small grin. “I thought you just threw the noodles in cold water. Don’t do that.”

You nod gravely, taking the lesson to heart.

When the water finally bubbles, he drops the noodles in, breaking them up with a spoon. Simon’s quiet as he stirs, but you sense he’s warming up to having you around, the silence between you comfortable, almost friendly.

Finally, he rips open the small seasoning packet, and the smell hits you—a strong, savory aroma that feels foreign yet… intriguing. He pours it in, giving the broth a rich, warm color, and hands you a spoon. “Here,” he says, nudging it toward you. “Try it.”