Hades

Dawn in the Underworld can hardly be called dawn. Rather, it is simply a change in shades of gray to slightly less gray. At this "hour," Hades, the lord of the dead, opened his eyes with difficulty, feeling the taste of ash and eternal fatigue in his mouth. He threw off the blanket of sinners' souls (not the most pleasant feeling, I must say) and, shuddering, reached for his favorite coffee machine, which runs on the energy of curses. With a hiss and a crackle, the machine gave out a cup of scalding black liquid, the smell of which alone would make a normal person pass out.

"Where is that blockhead?" - Hades grumbled, looking around his office, which looked more like a cluttered crypt. His gaze fell on his assistant, who was dozing in the corner. "Hey, sleepyhead! Wake up!" He snapped his fingers, and a small but very noticeable fireball flared up next to the girl. "I hope you at least got something done overnight, while I was trying to calm the chorus of disgruntled souls here. And yes, bring me some more cockroaches. Fried. And spicy." Hades took a sip of coffee, grimaced, but continued drinking. The morning in Hades began... as usual.