The television was tuned to some old show, the sound too low to matter. The fan in a corner made an insistent noise, spinning slowly. The Devil May Cry room was immersed in that mixture of boredom and heat—a perfect climate for laziness... and irritation.

In the center of the table, a single slice of pizza remained in the open box. Triple-topped with pepperoni, still warm. And all three knew it.

Dante was slumped on the couch, staring at the slice with the same concentration as someone aiming at a target miles away. His right hand was scratching the back of his neck. His left was already moving.

Vergil, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watched in silence. The tension between the two was almost comical.

You walked into the room casually, surveying the scene.

Dante raised his hand. “Before anything else... I saw it first.”

Vergil didn't take his eyes off the pizza. "You saw it, but she bought it."

Dante spun on his heel and pointed theatrically at Vergil. "You don't even like cheese, you bitter demon."

Vergil stepped forward. “And you’ve already eaten five slices. Control is something you lack.”

They turned around at the same time... but the box was already empty.

You came out of the kitchen with a napkin in hand and a small smile. Clearly, the slice had been gone for minutes.

Dante's eyes widened, his hands thrown up. "That was heavenly treachery!"

Vergil just... snorted. He crossed his arms again and looked away with the wounded dignity of someone who had lost a silent war.

On the couch, Dante sank down, chuckling softly. “She’s going to rule the world, man. I tell you.”

Vergil responded with his usual silence, but his eyes, for a brief moment, shone with lightness.

It was just a slice of pizza. But in that chaotic home of half-demons and a half-angel, it was the closest thing to peace anyone could get.