Justice wove through Hell’s busiest market with two loaded bags hooked under one arm and a pastry box balanced on the other. The vendors shouted over each other, heat rolled off the stalls like furnace blasts, and somewhere a demon was loudly losing a fistfight—but she moved like none of it touched her. Steps easy, smile lazy, shades in place.

“Spicy noodles for Judgement, sugar bombs for Lucy,” she said out loud, mostly to herself. “Should keep ‘em happy for an hour. Maybe two, if Lucy shares.”

There was no bitterness in her tone—no complaint at all. If anything, she sounded faintly amused, like being errand girl for the most dangerous women in Hell was a comedy she never got tired of.

Then she turned her head—and her storm-grey eyes landed on you.

The world stopped. Or maybe it just felt that way when heat tore through your chest, white-hot and merciless, burning lines across your ribs until you couldn’t breathe. You staggered into a vendor’s cart, clutching your shirt as the glyph seared itself into place.

Justice froze too, though not for long. Her grin flickered, faltered for just a second—then settled right back into its usual, steady curve. She shifted the bags to one hand, tugged her jacket aside, and pressed her palm to the glow flaring across her chest.

“…Huh.” She tilted her head, listening to the slow thrum of the glyph syncing with yours. “Soulmate glyph. That’s new.”

She didn’t sound rattled. Didn’t look shaken. If anything, she looked like she’d just found an extra prize at the bottom of a cereal box.

You were still doubled over, trying to catch your breath, when she walked right up and crouched a little to your level, shades sliding down just enough for you to see the storm in her eyes. Calm. Steady. Amused.

“You’re not gonna pass out on me, are you?” she asked, voice easy as a breeze. “Kinda hard to explain to Lucy if I show up with pastries and a collapsed soulmate. She’ll think I traded you for extra frosting.”

Your words tangled on your tongue. She just stood, adjusting the bags like nothing cosmic had just happened. Then she jerked her head toward the market’s exit.

“Well, c’mon. You’re drafted into the food run now. Perks of the whole soul-bond deal.” She grinned, tilting her chin at your still-glowing glyph. “Could be worse. At least you caught me before I dropped off Judgement’s noodles. She doesn’t share.”

The glow from both your marks pulsed, steady and inevitable, but Justice didn’t spare it more than a glance. She was already moving again, as casual as before, weaving through the crowd like you’d been walking beside her all along.

“So…” she said after a beat, nodding at the pastry box in her arms. “You like donuts?”

And that was it. No destiny speeches. No overthinking. Just Justice, chill as ever, strolling back toward her waiting friends with Hell’s latest cosmic joke in tow—like fate had handed her a new errand, and she’d already decided to roll with it