Despite having been to the Devil May Cry office countless times before, Lady felt unusually somber turning the spare key to enter the dilapidated building. A sunny afternoon was coming to an end, and even though the heat hadn't been on in the building for weeks it still felt warm and stuffy in the office. A layer of dust had settled on every surface, more still dancing in the air from the disturbance of the two women walking inside.

"Is this like settling the estate of a deceased relative?" Trish muttered, walking over to the desk in the center. It was littered with scattered notes, filthy magazines (in more ways than one) and an old pizza box with dubious and probably hazardous contents.

"A bit, maybe." Lady had dealt with loss many times before, but she couldn't pin down what she was feeling now. Was it even a loss? He could come back, in theory, but would he?

There was no way of knowing if Dante would ever return, and even if they hadn't seen very much of each other for the past few years, he was still one of her oldest and dearest friends. Even if he was alive and happy where he was, the thought of never seeing the goofball demon hunter again was a painful one. Sure, he was a hassle to be around much of the time; a loudmouth jackass and absolute mess of a man who could barely keep it together when not actively on a job, but he had always presented a shoulder to lean on when needed, even if just a proverbial one. Lately, Lady often wondered if she had ever properly repaid that favor.

Regardless of how she felt, they couldn't leave the office to rot away. The bills wouldn't pay themselves and should Dante never come back, then selling the building would be the only solution. But first they'd have to take stock of what was even in this mess, a mammoth task on its own.

"Don't suppose he left a will or something?" Trish held up a filthy dish cloth between two fingers with a look of distaste. Dante had never been known for neatness, but he had really let himself go in recent years and the office looked more like a bachelor pad from hell than a legitimate business.

"This is our Dante you're talking about, Trish. I don't think he even knew the current day of the week half the time. In fact he once called me in a panic because he'd forgotten it was a national holiday and all the grocery stores were closed."

"What did he need?"

"I don't remember. Something stupid." Lady sighed. "Do you ever think we left him too much on his own?"

"He's a big boy," Trish said, tone dismissive but she looked thoughtful.

Little over two weeks had passed since the conclusion of the Red Grave City incident, not a lot of time to wait, but Morrison had threatened to auction the entire joint off if nothing was done about the place. The deed was originally offered to Nero, but he had quite emphatically declined and, if Morrison's paraphrasing of the conversation was to be trusted, a string of profanities and mentions of deadbeat morons rotting in hell had been included. So, with the only living relative not an option, the job of sorting through Dante's worldly belongings fell on his colleagues.

"Honestly, I don't even know where to start," Lady said. Just looking around the office, seeing the mess, the odd knick-knacks, all the memories, was paralyzing.

"How about we just start with the desk? Then at least we have a surface to sort things on."

It was a good thing Trish had agreed to come along. Despite their less-than-amicable first meeting, the demoness had quickly become an important friend. She was fun to be around, but more importantly for their current situation, she was good at getting things done.

Armed with gloves, cleaning rags and large waste bags, they went about clearing the desk. Garbage, food containers and magazines going into the waste bags, while more personal items were carefully packed into a cardboard box. Lady paused for a moment as she was dusting off Eva's portrait. Dante hardly ever mentioned his mother, but on several occasions, particularly when faced with a difficult decision, she's noticed him glance at the portrait, as if consulting it for answers. She was struck by the hope that he really did find his answers in the end.

She wrapped up the now clean portrait and placed it in the box. Even if Nero didn't want the shop, she still wanted him to have a chance to go through these things and no matter how he felt about it, that picture was of his grandmother. Even if he could accept nothing else, he should at least have that.

"Hey, come look at this," Trish called out. She was crouched behind the desk, going through the drawers. She shuffled to the side to allow room for Lady to see. The bottom drawer was open and contained just a single item; a plain-looking wooden box. "What do you think is in here?"

"Only one way to find out."

They placed the box on the now mostly cleared desk. It was locked, but the key had been left in, more a suggestion than an obstacle.

"Do you think it's anything demonic? Like a weapon?" Lady would rather not have to deal with any vengeful entities today.

"I don't feel anything unusual from it," Trish said. "And if it was anything really bad, he'd probably hide it better, right?"

"I suppose so."

Even so, Lady held back a breath as Trish turned the key and opened the box, letting it go as a low huff when the contents were revealed. Papers, just a stack of papers. Some loose, some stuffed into envelopes - some crisp and new, some worn and crinkled after what must have been years of being shuffled around.

Trish picked up a thick envelope and pulled out one of the documents. After looking at it, she pulled out another one. "These all appear to be bank statements."

"Let me see." Lady took another page from the envelope. Trish was right, it was a bank statement, this one from more than a decade ago. "What in hell…" She took another one, but it told the same story. "That son of a…"

She really didn't want to be angry at him, not right now, but she couldn't help it. How many times had he come to her, begging for a loan to pay basic utilities, when she now learned that he simultaneously had been stashing money away in a secret account, using an alias, for what seemed like decades!

"I can't believe this! This is where all his money went?!" Dante being plainly bad at managing his money was one thing, but to deceive her like this? If he wasn't already in hell, she'd be more than happy to send him there herself.

"Hold up a moment," Trish said, handing her another piece of paper. "I think you should read this."

It was a hand-written letter, on the kind of fancy decorated letter paper a young girl would use. The writing was delicate but slightly uneven, colorful stickers of cute animals were placed in each corner. It had to have been written by a child. The letter wasn't crinkled, but the folds were almost wearing through the paper, like it had been read over and over for years.

Lady swallowed, feeling like she was encroaching on something very private. Something that even after all these years, Dante had never told her about.

Dear Tony

I hope you are doing well!

Tiki was really surprised went we got your letter. We never knew you were the one who sent all the money Morrison brings and we both want to say thank you.

I'm sorry I don't remember you very much, Tony, but you never forgot about us after all this time! We are both doing well, I'm in eight grade now and Tiki will soon graduate high school. Maybe you could come for her graduation? (She says you don't have to come, but I think it would make her happy. Maybe you can tell us stories about dad and Jessica?)

You don't have to worry about us and you don't have to send more money. Tiki says we will be fine on our own. We promise.

Love and hugs,

Nesty

After she finished reading, she carefully folded the letter again. Her eyes burned and at the same time she wanted to punch something, the reason for either wasn't quite clear to her.

"You didn't know about this?" Trish asked quietly, still leafing through the bank documents.

"No. He never said anything."

"Some of these date back almost twenty years. That letter isn't dated, but it appears he kept making deposits. The newest one is only from two months ago."

"That bastard…"

Trish chuckled. "You're just angry that you can't be angry at him."

It was true. Lady had been ready to tear him a new one just a moment ago, but now she didn't know how to feel.

Trish removed the last of the documents, revealing a faded polaroid photograph at the very bottom of the box. She picked it up to show to Lady.

It showed Dante, younger even than he'd been when they first met. Hardly more than a boy, with a lopsided grin and sparkling eyes under his pale fringe. He was sitting at a table, apparently after a meal. A girl a few years younger stood next to his chair with a shy smile and her hand clasped in front of her. A toddler sat on his leg, a sprawl of flailing limbs with one hand tugging at Dante's hair so he had to incline his head a little. A third child, maybe around five or six, seemed ready to climb up to her sister. Tony and the girls was handwritten in the margin.

Lady had seen many a grin and smirk on Dante's face, but she couldn't recall ever seeing him this at ease before.

"How unfair," she muttered.

It was almost midnight by the time they locked up the office. There was still lots to do, they had barely started with the back rooms and the upstairs living space would probably take several days to get through. After they finished stashing the boxes in Lady's trusty pickup and setting the garbage out to be picked up in the morning, they said their farewells and Trish mounted her motorcycle to speed off into the night.

Exhausted, Lady dragged herself into the driver's seat, promising herself that she would bring it all to Nero's place once they were done. He didn't understand it, not yet. He might think forgetting helps, that if you don't look, it will all go away. Lady knew better. If he threw all these things away without even looking it over, he would regret it one day.

She knew from experience.