The hallway outside Delilah's apartment smelled faintly of expensive candles, perfume, and flowers that had probably been sent by people who suddenly remembered she existed after the headlines started trending across every entertainment site.
Lucifer stood in front of her door with one hand in his coat pocket. He rang the bell and waited. The building was quiet, far quieter than Lux, which made every tiny sound seem sharper than it needed to be. Somewhere behind the door, he could hear slow footsteps approaching.
A few seconds later, the lock clicked.
The door opened, and Delilah appeared in front of him wearing a loose top and shorts. Her right palm was bandaged, and another patch of white gauze rested near her shoulder beneath the collar of her shirt. She looked tired, pale around the eyes, and far more alive than the bloody memory still sitting inside Lucifer's head.
For one second, Delilah simply stared at him.
Then she stepped forward and hugged him tightly.
Lucifer froze for the smallest moment before his arms settled around her with careful pressure. He kept his grip gentle, avoiding her injured shoulder, though Delilah seemed less worried about pain than about making sure he was really standing there.
"You came," she whispered against his chest.
"Of course I came," Lucifer said, looking down at her with a faint smile. "I make a habit of checking whether people I save have had the decency to remain saved."
Delilah let out a soft laugh, though it broke slightly near the end. She pulled back and wiped beneath one eye with the back of her uninjured hand.
"Come in," she said, stepping aside. "Sorry, the place is kind of a mess."
Lucifer walked in and glanced around the apartment. It was expensive, stylish, and full of signs that someone had been living too fast to notice the wreckage collecting around them. Designer clothes rested over a chair near the window. Empty water bottles sat beside prescription painkillers on the coffee table. A guitar leaned against the wall near a stack of unopened flowers and glossy gift baskets from people who cared publicly and conveniently.
"Yes," Lucifer said as he entered. "A true disaster. I can see at least three brands of luxury suffering."
Delilah smiled a little and closed the door behind him.
They moved toward the couch. Delilah lowered herself carefully onto one side, wincing when her shoulder pulled the wrong way. Lucifer noticed, though he said nothing as he sat beside her and placed the envelope on his lap.
"Thanks," Delilah said after a quiet moment. "For everything. The hospital room, guards, doctors, the whole thing. They told me you handled all of it."
"I did," Lucifer replied, leaning back against the couch. "Humans are remarkably fragile, and hospitals tend to work better when one throws absurd amounts of money at them."
"You also caught who did it," she said, her eyes dropping toward her bandaged hand. "Or helped catch him. It's all over the news."
Lucifer's expression sharpened at the name.
Delilah shook her head slowly, still struggling to believe it even after hearing the truth. "I still can't wrap my head around it. To think Jimmy tried to kill me just to create hype and sell the album."
Lucifer shrugged a little.
"The things humans do for money never cease to amaze me," he said. "Betray kingdoms, families, lovers, and somehow, every generation still manages to make greed look tackier than the last."
Delilah stared at the coffee table, her fingers curling carefully against her knee.
"I knew Jimmy was bitter. He hated me for leaving him, and he was desperate after everything started falling apart, but hiring someone to kill me?" Her voice trembled with anger now. "I mean, if not for you, I'd be dead."
Lucifer looked at her injured shoulder, then at the fear she was trying to hide beneath anger.
"Yes," he said quietly. "But it's all over now."
Delilah swallowed hard and turned toward him.
"Jimmy disappeared from the hospital," she said. "The news said he vanished before the cops could move him. What if he comes after me again?"
Lucifer's smile returned, slow and dark enough to make the air feel colder around him.
"That sleazeball won't be hurting you or anyone else for that matter, so you can take a breather," he said.
Delilah studied his face.
Something in his tone made her stop asking the next question. She had seen enough impossible things outside Lux to understand that Lucifer Morningstar's world had doors she might regret opening. He had taken bullets for her and walked away without a scratch. He had looked at a dying man like judgment had finally arrived in a tailored suit.
She leaned back and released a shaky breath.
"Okay," she whispered. "I'll take the breather."
"Excellent choice," Lucifer said, then lifted the folded envelope from his lap. "Also, I brought you something."
Delilah looked at it, cautious now.
"What is it?"
Lucifer held it out between two fingers. "Open it."
She took the envelope with her good hand and carefully unfolded the flap. A few sheets of paper slid into her lap. At first, she seemed too distracted to understand what she was seeing. Then her eyes moved across the first page, and her entire expression changed.
She looked up at him.
"Lucifer... what is this?"
"A contract," Lucifer said casually.
Delilah stared down at the papers again.
"This says LUX Studios."
"Yes," Lucifer replied. "Catchy, isn't it?"
Her eyes widened further as she read more. "You bought Jimmy's studio?"
"His dying studio," Lucifer corrected with visible distaste. "The place was already circling the drain, and with Jimmy suddenly unavailable for all future acts of mediocrity, it seemed like a perfect opportunity."
Delilah looked at the contract again, her face caught between shock, fear, and something dangerously close to hope.
"You're giving it to me?"
"I'm giving you control," Lucifer said. "The studio belongs to me, technically, because lawyers become twitchy when I start handing entire companies to recently shot pop stars recovering on pain medication. You will run it as you see fit. Sing, record, shoot videos, produce, discover talent, throw chairs at incompetent executives, whatever makes you feel alive."
Delilah's lips parted, but no words came out.
Lucifer leaned forward slightly, his tone losing some of its playful edge.
"You wanted a second chance, Delilah. Consider this one with better acoustics."
Her eyes glistened again. "I don't know if I deserve this."
Lucifer gave her an unimpressed look.
"Deserving is such a tedious little word," he said. "You have talent, experience, a voice people would sell kidneys to hear, and a rather spectacular ability to survive poor romantic decisions. That should be more than enough for the music industry."
Delilah laughed through the tears, then pressed the papers carefully against her chest.
"I don't know what to say."
"You could start with thank you, followed by a promise to avoid every walking disaster with jewelry and a recording booth."
She wiped her face and gave him a shaky smile. "Thank you."
"There we are."
"And I promise," she added, though her smile turned sheepish, "I'll try to make better choices."
Lucifer lifted one finger.
"No trying," he said. "Trying is the word people use when they wish to keep a side door open for failure."
Delilah rolled her eyes, though the warmth in her expression stayed.
"Fine. I'll make better choices."
"Splendid. And that includes sleeping with every street chimp you see," Lucifer said, pointing at her with absolute seriousness. "No more sleeping with producers with tiny egos or rappers with anger issues and inferiority complexes. Oh, also married actors with presidential fantasies and emotional depth equivalent to wet cardboard."
Delilah stared at him.
Then she burst into laughter.
It hurt her shoulder, and she immediately winced, but the laugh still came out real. Lucifer watched her carefully, satisfied when the fear in her face loosened a little more.
"You're impossible," she said.
"Yes," Lucifer replied. "And yet terribly useful."
Delilah looked down at the contract again, her thumb brushing over the studio name. "LUX Studios."
"It has a nice ring," Lucifer said. "Far better than anything Jimmy would have chosen. I imagine his version would've included his name and three unnecessary exclamation marks."
She smiled, then grew quieter.
"What if I mess it up?"
Lucifer leaned back against the couch and watched her with steady eyes.
"Then you fix it," he said. "Then you mess up again and fix that too. That is apparently how humans grow, which seems inefficient and emotionally messy, but you lot appear committed to the method."
Delilah stared at him for a long moment.
"You really believe I can do this?"
Lucifer did not joke this time.
"Yes," he said. "I do."
The answer hit her harder than all the jokes before it. Her fingers tightened around the papers, and for a few seconds, she looked like the frightened woman from Lux again, the one who had asked if she had sold her soul because success had started feeling like punishment.
Then something steadied behind her eyes.
"Okay," she said. "I'll do it."
Lucifer smiled faintly. "Good. Because if you turn my studio into a sentimental charity project, I'll be deeply offended."
Delilah laughed again, softer this time.
"I'll make it good," she said. "I promise."
"That's the spirit," Lucifer said as he stood from the couch. "Now rest, heal, ignore the vultures, and begin thinking about what sort of kingdom you'd like to build once you're done being dramatic on painkillers."
Delilah stood too, slower than him. She walked him to the door with the contract still held carefully against her chest.
Before he could leave, she touched his arm.
"Lucifer?"
He turned back toward her.
"Can I still come to Lux and sing like before?"
For once, Lucifer's smile softened without the usual performance behind it.
"I already said yes to that, didn't I? Feel free to swing by whenever you want."
Delilah hugged him again, gentler this time. Lucifer let her, keeping one hand lightly against her back until she pulled away.
When he stepped into the hallway, she stayed at the door, watching him with tired eyes and a real smile.
Lucifer walked toward the elevator, hands in his pockets, feeling strangely satisfied. 'Well, the rest is up to you, girl. Don't disappoint me.'
...
[A few days later]
Lucifer walked out of an ice cream shop with a cone in his hand, eating as he moved down the street.
He had seen a long line outside the place and assumed the ice cream would be worth it. The board inside had shown ridiculous names for every flavor, and the cashier had recommended something called fruit overload with far too much confidence.
Lucifer took another bite, then looked at the cone with mild disgust.
“Ten dollars for this shit?” he muttered. “It tastes like regular fruit ice cream.”
He kept eating anyway because some part of Karl still remembered a life where even small things like this felt expensive. Back then, spending ten dollars on ice cream would have been stupid. Now, he could buy the entire shop if the mood took him.
Music played from a nearby store while people moved along the sidewalk.
♪ I ain’t got no soul, the preacher told me so ♪♪ I’m out... on my own ♪♪ I ain’t got no soul, the preacher told me so... ♪
Lucifer slowed when he heard shouting from farther down the street.
“Save your soul! It’s up to you! I ask you to repent! Repent your sins before it’s too late!”
A street preacher stood near the corner with a microphone in one hand and a cheap speaker beside his feet. A small crowd had gathered around him. Some people listened, some recorded him, a few paid him, and some only stayed because they had nothing better to do.
The preacher raised his hand and continued yelling.
“It is the end of times! The Devil walks among us!”
Lucifer stared at him while chewing another bite of ice cream. It was similar to the opening of episode 2. But Chloe was still in the hospital, so some events seem to have just gotten mixed up. At this point, he stopped caring about the butterfly effect.
In his old life, Karl would’ve ignored the man and kept walking. He had heard plenty of people like this before. Loud men on street corners blaming the Devil for everything wrong with the world had never been worth his time.
That was before he became Lucifer Morningstar.
Now the words irritated him in a way he couldn’t easily dismiss. Lucifer’s pride and anger stirred under his skin, and Karl felt them too. Humans lied, cheated, hurt each other, ruined lives, and then blamed the Devil because it was easier than taking responsibility.
Lucifer sighed and walked toward the crowd.
“Look at this world!” the preacher shouted. “The sin, the lust, the corruption! It is the Devil’s touch!”
Lucifer stepped closer with the cone still in his hand.
“Padre, you have no idea how right you are,” Lucifer said with a small chuckle. “There’s no need to be angry about it. Enjoy the ride.”
The preacher turned toward him.
A few people in the crowd looked at Lucifer too. His suit, smile, and calm confidence drew attention immediately, especially since he looked like he had walked out of a luxury club instead of a random LA sidewalk.
The preacher studied him for a moment, then lifted the microphone again.
“Bless you. Have you seen the face of the Devil?”
Lucifer smiled.
“Oh, every morning in the mirror, pal.”
Some people laughed.
The preacher pointed toward him as if Lucifer had helped prove his point.
“Exactly! He’s in all of us! In our every moment of weakness.”
Lucifer’s smile faded a little.
“No, no, no,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t give me credit for all that. You humans do plenty on your own.”
The microphone gave a sharp squeal of feedback. Several people winced, and the preacher lowered it with a frustrated look.
“What’s your problem, pal?”
Lucifer raised an eyebrow.
“Excuse me?”
“Yeah,” the preacher said, dropping the holy tone. “Why don’t you move your shtick along? I’m not sharing my tips with you, if that’s what you’re angling for.”
Lucifer stared at him for a second. “Oh. Right. Is this a performance?” He asked, glancing toward the costumed characters farther down the sidewalk. “Are you like the Chewbacca and Spider-Man down the street? I have to say, you’re very good.”
The preacher glared at him.
“Yeah, so why don’t you go bother them?”
The crowd laughed again. More phones turned toward Lucifer, and the preacher noticed it immediately.
“You’re bad for my business,” the preacher snapped.
Lucifer’s expression changed.
That one sentence told him everything he needed to know. The man didn’t believe in what he was preaching. This was just another act, another way to squeeze money out of frightened people and curious tourists.
The preacher lifted the microphone again, trying to regain control.
“Repent! The Devil...”
“Isn’t finished with you yet,” Lucifer said.
The crowd quieted slightly.
Lucifer stepped closer, his voice becoming colder.
“You see, what I hate more than anything is a liar, a charlatan, someone who doesn’t believe in what they say.”
The preacher forced a laugh, though his confidence had started to slip.
“So what are you gonna do about it?”
Lucifer leaned closer and looked directly into his eyes.
“Why, make you a believer, of course.”
For one second, Lucifer let his real red devil face appear.
The preacher saw it clearly.
The handsome man was gone, and something burned and inhuman looked back at him instead. Red eyes, ruined skin, and a face that belonged to every nightmare he had pretended to understand from behind a microphone.
The preacher screamed.
He stumbled backward and dropped the microphone. It hit the pavement with a loud crack, sending another burst of feedback through the speaker.
“Stay away!” the preacher yelled, crawling back from him. “He’s the Devil! You don’t understand! This isn’t a performance! He’s the Devil!”
The crowd laughed as they raised their phones higher, recording every second while the preacher kept pointing at Lucifer with a trembling hand.
Lucifer turned toward the crowd, his normal face already back in place.
“It’s true,” he said, spreading his arms slightly. “It is true.”
"He's the devil!!!" The preacher screamed as he flung his tip bag, sending the bills flying on the street. "The devil is on Earth!"
People began to catch the bills while cheering for Lucifer. Some even clapped for the money and stopped the prick from yelling before their store.
Lucifer gave them a small bow.
“Yes, thanks, everyone. I’m here till, well, the end of time, actually."
Across the street, a girl with striking, bright blue eyes watched Lucifer through her sunglasses. She slightly lowered her glasses just to get a good look at him. Though many other girls were watching the scene, or mostly Lucifer, she stood out among them. Why? Because she was beautiful with unique irises, plus big boobs. And from her expensive clothes, shoes, and handbag, she looked like a celebrity. She had a big hat and sunglasses that made it look as if she was hiding from public attention.
Then the crowd got a bit wild as everyone was trying to snatch the bills, two cops on patrol got involved and she just blinked once and... 'Where did he go?' She wondered.
...
Next Ch: A new case?