Jo found Jeff standing in the walk-in fridge and holding a binder that smelled faintly of brimstone and bureaucracy.

Dodging a levitating jar of cursed fig jam, she asked, “What are you doing?”

“Looking for the proper paperwork to reverse a class three ritual reroute,” Jeff replied, flipping pages labeled things like Appendix C: Fire Safety in Temporary Hellmouths and How to Politely Decline a Blood Pact.

“This is a café fridge,” Jo said in exasperation. “It’s for croissants. Oat milk. Not abyss protocol.”

Jeff held up a form. “Wrong. Section 13B states that any mortal establishment operating as a spontaneous cross dimensional service hub must maintain a chill storage zone for emergency documentation and frozen torment soufflés.”

“That actually explains the soufflé.” Jo sighed. “Ugh. Fine. What’s the current emergency?”

Jeff handed her a crumpled note in scented infernal script. It read, URGENT! Pentagram loop still active. Blood Orange ink tainted. Surveillance crow compromised.

“Oh come on,” Jo groaned.

Baristopheles slithered into the kitchen, holding a latte with STOP THE LOOP foamed across the top. “Your customer just handed this to me. Said their mug tried to whisper a prophecy.”

Clorvex entered, dressed in full chaos analyst regalia which was a sequined cape and clipboard and muttered, “The problem isn’t just the loop. It’s the feedback ripple from the Abyss helpdesk. Every call loops back here now.”

“To this café?” Jo asked.

“To your mop,” Clorvex clarified. “Someone encoded a distress sigil in the handle. Bold move.”

Mira peeked in. “Has anyone seen my tea strainers? I think one tried to bite me. Also, the new blend has started singing lullabies. Backwards.”

Jeff scribbled furiously. “Noted. Cross dimensional tea resonance. That’ll be flagged for escalation.”

“I don’t want escalation!” Jo snapped. “I want quiet mornings and maybe a croissant that doesn’t hum Gregorian chants!”

There was a moment of silence before a croissant levitated out of the fridge and softly intoned “Dominus espresso…”

Jo threw her apron at it.

Jeff cleared his throat. “Look, I am working on a patch, but to close the pentagram loop properly, we need to locate the original summoner, the original ink sigil, and the original motive.”

“What was the original motive?” Mira asked.

Jo sighed. “Someone wanted better reviews.”

Everyone groaned.

Clorvex looked up. “Then we’ve got a cursed customer service loop, a corrupted review cycle, and a blood ink backflow issue. That’s triple cursed.”

“Can we fix it?” Jo asked.

Jeff smiled weakly. “Technically yes. But it’s going to require filling out Form 999-WTF in triplicate.”

Jo stared angrily at him and then she turned to Baristopheles. “Fire up the printer.”