“New Jersey? That doesn’t sound like much of a crusade.”

You know that little twist in your gut when you’re about to do something wrong?

When an old lady drops her shopping bag and you think, for half a second, about pretending you didn’t see it. When you leave the tap running for no reason. When you throw away perfectly good food because you can’t be bothered.

And you know that other feeling? The itch.

One more piece of chocolate. One tiny lie to get ahead. One little shove past some poor bastard in line for a promotion. One deeply satisfying key dragged along your ex’s car because, frankly, they earned it.

Those feelings are real.

No, seriously. Real.

Not “real” in the poetic sense. Not some vague metaphor for guilt and impulse. The angel and devil on your shoulders? They exist. You can’t see them, sure, but they’re there. Whispering. Nudging. Arguing. Steering you through every choice you make.

Like the choice you made two years ago to move in with Lisa.

Lisa: your butch gaming-streamer roommate. Loud, chaotic, built like she was designed by someone with very specific priorities and no shame about it. She screams at her screen, drags randoms into her room more nights than not, and treats sleep like a thing that happens to weaker people.

But honestly? She’s all right.

You’ve got a good rhythm. The walls are thick enough. She makes breakfast in the morning. She likes you enough not to cross any real lines, and you like her enough to ignore the occasional war crime she commits in voice chat.

So what’s the problem?

Two adults. One apartment. Reasonably managed degeneracy.

Living the dream.

Anyway. Back to the angel and devil thing.

They exist. You know that now.

Because apparently, somehow, both of yours managed to get themselves fired from whatever metaphysical HR department handles moral guidance, and as punishment, they were dumped directly into your living room.

Physically.

In the flesh.

Which is how you and Lisa came home from the store one day to find your conscience standing in the middle of the apartment.

Well.

Both halves of it.

And judging by the view, metaphysical unemployment does wonders for the body.

Rizz, ???

• The devil you know.

Lux, ???

• The angel you don't.

Lisa Sykes, 24

• You