The summoning circle on the café floor was not supposed to be used for customer service but there it was glowing faintly, pulsing with low budget menace, and mumbling hold music that sounded suspiciously like smooth jazz on fire.

“I’m sorry,” Jo said, staring at the runes. “Did someone reroute our complaint line through a hell portal?”

Jeff looked up from the front counter, where he was alphabetizing apology scrolls. “We had too many unresolved tickets. Management suggested offloading some of the overflow to the Abyssal Feedback Department.”

“The what?”

Jeff sighed. “They rate souls on a five-flame scale and occasionally devour critics. It’s a whole thing.”

The summoning circle spat out a puff of sulfur, a charred clipboard, and a ghostly voice whispering, “Please hold while we transfer you to someone who still remembers joy.”

Clorvex popped in, wearing a headset that hadn’t been plugged into anything since the late nineties. “Hi, welcome to Harmony Café’s escalated support channel. How may I redirect your emotional outburst today?”

“Why are you wearing that?” Mira asked, cautiously sipping a tea that tasted like existential dread.

“It’s enchanted for customer de-escalation,” Clorvex beamed. “Also, I look incredible in a headset.”

Behind them, Matteo screamed quietly into a cabinet. The espresso machine had just served a cappuccino with a printed receipt reading Your fate has been foamed.

Baristopheles emerged, twitching slightly. “The coffee’s started writing cryptic fortunes again. One cup said ‘Beware the Tuesday crow,’ and a customer brought in a bird wearing a necktie. I don’t know how to handle that.”

Jeff consulted his clipboard. “That’s probably from our misrouted Familiar Welcome Packet. I’ll log it.”

Jo threw up her hands. “We are not a licensed ritual hub! This is a café! We serve pastries and caffeine, not demonic bureaucracy!”

As if summoned by her frustration, the voicemail system clicked on with a cheerful chime and announced, “Please note, Harmony Café is not responsible for spontaneous portals, emotional entanglements, or the occasional soul displacement. To speak with a lesser demon, press three. To scream into the void, press four. To file a complaint, please stay on the line forever.”

Everyone turned to Jeff.

“I’ll open a ticket,” he said.