New York City buzzed with life under the neon glow. Traffic crawled, horns blared, and the night was alive with energy.
A sleek black Rolls-Royce Phantom pulled up in front of an exclusive high-end club, its name glowing in smooth, violet letters—"Eclipse Lounge."
The driver stepped out first, opening the door with practiced grace.
Lucifer stepped out, sharp in a dark designer suit that matched the night. Right behind him, Francisca emerged, dressed to kill, her heels clicking against the pavement like she owned the street.
Lucifer looked around, then gave her a sideways glance.
"You know I hate clubs. Especially when your friends are involved." His voice was calm, but the sigh said everything.
Francisca locked her arm in his and gave him the most devastating puppy eyes.
"Come on, just tonight, please? You know Pops barely lets me out for anything fun."
Lucifer stared at her for a second, then looked away with a resigned chuckle.
"...Tch. You're lucky you're cute."
Francisca grinned, tugging him toward the entrance as the bass from inside started to thump louder.
"That's why you love me."
He didn't answer—but the small smirk on his face said enough.
As they approached the entrance, the bouncers—towering men in sleek black suits—immediately stepped aside without a word. No ID check. No questions. Just a silent nod of respect.
Inside, Eclipse Lounge was electric.
The air shimmered with purple and blue lights, fog machines swirled across the marble floors, and a massive chandelier pulsed in sync with the deep, thumping bass. VIPs lounged in glass booths overhead, sipping glowing drinks while holographic dancers performed midair.
Francisca leaned close, her lips almost brushing Lucifer's ear over the music.
"I told them to reserve the rooftop suite. Just us and a few people."
Lucifer kept his hands in his pockets, his eyes scanning the crowd.
"Hmm… Let me guess. Those 'few people' include that annoying firey hothead and your cousin who thinks he's hotter than me?"
Francisca laughed. "Nooo… maybe."
They stepped into a private elevator tucked behind a velvet rope. As the doors closed, the music faded, replaced by a soft hum of luxury.
Lucifer leaned back against the elevator wall. "You really just dragged me here to babysit your chaos crew, huh?"
Francisca looked up at him with a cheeky smile.
"Admit it. You missed being in the middle of a mess."
He tilted his head. "Only when I'm the one causing it."
Ding.
The doors slid open to reveal a private rooftop—lush with glowing plants, low sofas, floating tables, and a full view of the glittering city below.
Several figures were already there—half-drunk, half-powered, and loud.
Lucifer stepped out, hands still in his pockets.
"...Yeah. This is gonna be a long night."
Francisca clapped her hands with a grin.
"Let's make it fun, then."
The moment they stepped onto the rooftop, the vibe shifted.
Lucifer's smile dropped. His eyes narrowed just slightly.
He turned to Francisca, who was already frowning.
"Tch… Seriously?" he muttered.
From the other end of the lounge, a smooth, honeyed voice cut through the low music.
"Well, well… look who finally showed up. Francisca and her little puppy. Took you long enough."
Ella.
Lounging on a velvet chair like a queen, legs crossed, a glass of something expensive in her hand. Her eyes locked with Lucifer's, teasing and sharp.
"Can't say I'm surprised," another voice chimed in—cooler, silkier.
"They do love making these dramatic entrances."
Remu.
Perched by the edge of the glass railing, city lights behind her like a halo. Her smirk was sharp enough to cut.
Lucifer sighed, already done with the night.
"Yep… and this is why I hate these things," he muttered, eyes shifting between the two.
Francisca rolled her eyes.
"Same. I was hoping they'd be late or too busy ruining someone else's evening."
Ella stood, swirling her drink. "Aw, don't be like that. We were so looking forward to seeing you two. Especially you, Lucy."
Remu giggled. "Yeah… it's not a party without our favorite grumpy celestial."
Lucifer didn't even flinch.
"I can leave."
Francisca grabbed his arm. "No. You're staying. If I suffer, you suffer."
Lucifer groaned.
"This night just keeps getting better."
"Ella."
A calm voice cut through the tension like a knife.
"You promised to behave. That's the only reason I let you two tag along."
The speaker leaned lazily against the bar, swirling a glass of red wine.
Franklin William.
But no one dared call him that. Around here, he was just Mob.
Same age as Lucifer, but their energy was like night and day.
Mob was all charm—messy silver hair that somehow always looked styled, skin a soft bronze glow like he spent half his life in golden hour, sharp jawline, and golden eyes that held a hint of danger behind every smirk.
Tonight, he wore a loose black shirt with the top few buttons undone, rings on his fingers, and an aura that screamed effortless king.
Lucifer gave him a look as he approached.
"Of course you invited them," he said flatly. "You weren't enough pain on your own—you had to bring your evil cheerleaders too."
Mob chuckled, unfazed.
Before he could respond, Lucifer snatched the wine glass from his hand and downed it in one gulp.
Mob just raised a brow, cool as ever, and reached for another glass like nothing happened.
"You're welcome."
Lucifer wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes scanning the rooftop.
"Where's the hothead? Don't tell me she bailed."
Mob took a sip of his fresh glass, nodding slightly.
"She couldn't make it. Said something urgent came up."
Lucifer exhaled. "Huh… lucky her."
Francisca sat down with a sigh.
"Can we just not start a war tonight?"
Ella smirked. "No promises."
Remu giggled in the background. "Definitely no promises."
Mob grinned. "Yeah… it's gonna be that kind of night."