Chapter 52: The First Day

Day 1 of 1825 days

When Charles woke up, he almost had a panic attack.

It's not that he didn't sleep well. If anything, it was probably one of the best slumbers in his life, though he missed the presence of Ozzy snuggling against him. No, what freaked him out was the discovery of why he slept so well.

At some point in the night, someone tucked him in bed. Pillow under his head, blanket over him, and Petite Charlotte (the name of his new goat) lying next to him. Obviously, someone had picked Charles up from the carpet after he fell asleep.

"Good morning, young man." Bayou closed his wardrobe with her foot and placed a pile of clothes on his desk. "I trust that you slept well."

"Why am I in the bed?" Charles immediately jumped out of bed. "I went to sleep on the carpet!" He pointed at the carpet to emphasize his point.

"You are a child, not a dog." Bayou straightened the pile. "The master did not appreciate your indoctrinated sleeping method, so he tucked you in after he was done with The Lady." Charles raised his finger but Bayou interrupted him. "And try to have some appreciative gratitude, will you? You and Celia Facilier are both getting more than your average meals back on the Isle of the Lost and the master is giving you needed treatment on a level that he only pampers his goddaughter with. So please, appreciate the fact that you have an actual bed, and you're getting this advice from an imp who lived on a Wrath Ring farm with only one hay mattress to share with her siblings. And before you ask, I have 19 siblings."

Charles shuddered. "OK…"

Petite Charlotte came to rub her head against Charles' head. "I see you slept well, Petite Charlotte." He picked her up in his arms.

"You named her after the princess?" Bayou petted the goat.

"No. After the Charlotte sternwheeler."

"Right…" Bayou took Petite Charlotte in her arms. "Your bath is drawn. Best to get washed and dressed up before your breakfast…"

"I don't like baths…" Charles began until Bayou pressed her tail's tip on his nose.

"And I don't like little boys whining about not wanting to take baths when I spent 10 minutes preparing a hot, French lavender-scented bath with bubbles, when a lot of demons in the Envy Ring don't receive enough clean water because all the good liquids are used to replenish the citizens of Hell! GET IN THE TUB!" Bayou snapped.

"Yes, ma'am…" Charles shuddered.

"No 'ma'am' terms in the house! You say 'Yes, Miss Bayou'."

"Yes, Miss Bayou." Charles took the clothes and rushed to the bathroom. Sure enough, he was greeted by the rich scent of French lavender coming from the bubble bathtub. He gulped at the water waiting him in the tub. Memories haunting the back of his mind. His father threatening to drown him in the basin if he didn't properly wash away his sins back when he was six. He only washed himself with a sponge or in the shower ever since.

Charles was overwhelmed by his trauma, he didn't even budge when the tub's water suddenly moved in a serpentine manner, splashing him in the process. A gust of wind dried everything up and Charles to the bone. In a cloud of rainbow sparkles, he was already dressed in his new clothes. He blinked and realized that Amar had stepped in the bathroom to use his magic on Charles.

"That's a waste of a proper bath! You didn't even give him time to enjoy it!" Bayou told angrily at Amar as Charles stepped out.

"It's fine, Miss Bayou. Amar did me a favor… I don't have good experiences with baths." Charles nodded to Amar in appreciation. That's when he noticed the abomination standing behind Amar, carrying a pile of workbooks, textbooks, scrolls, and kits. He then noticed that Amar was wearing his school clothing. "Amar… what the heck are you doing?"

"My workbooks, remember?" Amar said. "It's a weekday and we're staying somewhere where I can actually do my schoolwork. If anyone needs me, I'll be in the ballroom. Here's my schedule, and before I forget, the answers to my workbooks, magically sealed by my mommies." Amar immediately tossed a piece of paper and a dozen of paper stacks locked up in pink forcefields bearing the Blight-Noceda seal. Curious, Charles took a look at Amar's schedule.

Lunes

7:00am to 7:30am: Previous Lesson Reviews

7:30am to 8am: Meditation

8am to 9am: Spanish

9am to 10am: Potions

10am to 10:30am: Recess

10:30am to 11am: Math

11am to 12pm: Healing

12pm to 12:30pm: Lunch

12:30pm to 1pm: Mortal History

1pm to 2pm: Bard

2pm to 2:30pm: Recess

2:30pm to 3:45pm: Quiz on Last Wednesday's lessons

3:45pm: End of homeschool

Martes

7:00am to 7:30am: Previous Lesson Reviews

7:30am to 8am: Meditation

8am to 9am: Abominations

9am to 10am: English

10am to 10:30am: Recess

10:30am to 11am: Oracle

11am to 12pm: Gymnastics

12pm to 12:30pm: Lunch

12:30pm to 1pm: Witch History

1pm to 2pm: Mythology

2pm to 2:30pm: Recess

2:30pm to 3:45pm: Quiz on Last Thursday's lessons

3:45pm: End of homeschool

Miércoles

7:00am to 7:30am: Previous Lesson Reviews

7:30am to 8am: Meditation

8am to 9am: Mortal History

9am to 10am: Book Report

10am to 10:30am: Recess

10:30am to 11am: Oracle

11am to 12pm: Illusions

12pm to 12:30pm: Lunch

12:30pm to 1pm: Spanish

1pm to 2pm: Math

2pm to 2:30pm: Recess

2:30pm to 3:45pm: Quiz on Last Friday's lessons

3:45pm: End of Homeschool

Jueves

7:00am to 7:30am: Previous Lesson Reviews

7:30am to 8am: Meditation

8am to 9am: Construction

9am to 10am: Gymnastics

10am to 10:30am: Recess

10:30am to 11am: Witch History

11am to 12pm: English

12pm to 12:30pm: Lunch

12:30pm to 1pm: Beastkeeping

1pm to 2pm: Cooking

2pm to 2:30pm: Recess

2:30pm to 3:45pm: Quiz on Last Monday's lessons

3:45pm: End of homeschool

Viernes

7:00am to 7:30am: Previous Lesson Reviews

7:30am to 8am: Meditation

8am to 9am: Plants

9am to 10am: Mythology

10am to 10:30am: Recess

10:30am to 11am: Spanish

11am to 12pm: Math

12pm to 12:30pm: Lunch

12:30pm to 1pm: Abominations

1pm to 2pm: Oracle

2pm to 2:30pm: Recess

2:30pm to 3:45pm: Quiz on Last Tuesday's lessons

3:45pm: End of homeschool

Charles blinked at the list. "You can't be serious… Bayou, what day is it today? Demon-wise."

"Tuesday," the imp answered.

"Great! You can quiz me this afternoon!" Amar gave Charles a small punch in the arm. "Oh, and nobody worry about Gymnastics. I plan on running laps around the Blood Lake. I can easily create a track. And you don't have to worry about the quiz, you just need to ask me stuff, I'm being graded orally and by performance. And I need you to fill in for Audrey, she owes me some French classes, but I think she might be out until the week's over. Anyway, have fun with Señor Alastor, I need to go review my Monday lessons. Or in this case, anything I read while I was playing stowaway."

"You've both been required for breakfast with Alastor," Bayou crossed her arms.

"No gracias." Out of nowhere, Amar pulled out a mug of hot liquid and drank from it. A quick sniff caused Charles to gag, Bayou to pinch her nose, and Petite Charlotte to faint. Even Amar's abomination turned green.

"SATAN'S BALLS, WHAT IS THAT?" Bayou exclaimed.

"IT SMELLS LIKE MY FATHER'S GOONS' QUARTERS AFTER THEY HAD MUD FIGHTS!" Charles wanted to throw up.

"My morning booster!" Amar said gleefully. "Café con bilis! Coffee with bile!"

"WHY do you drink bile?" Charles freaked out.

"I have an unstable bile sac attached to my heart. You know, bile sacs help witches of my sort make magic. My hybrid physique makes it unstable, so I need to fill it with actual bile, but my mommies aren't monstrous enough to get magical bile, so they have me drink bilis from animals every…"

"JUST GO TO THE BALLROOM ALREADY!" Bayou nearly screamed. Amar just smirked and whistled his way out. The abomination left a trail of purple-and-green goop as it followed its creator. Petite Charlotte sniffed at the goop, only to bleat in disgust.

"I really want to slap that boy…" The poor imp groaned.

"I don't blame you… but for an eight-year-old chaotic ticking bomb, he's oddly organized in his homeschooling," Charles admitted.

Minutes later

Contrary to Audrey's dinner in the dining room last night, Charles found his way to the courtyard for breakfast. Bayou had encouraged that he left his satchel in his room, notion being that you don't carry weapons on you if your host isn't trying to kill you. Still, he slipped his dagger in his garter, just to be safe. He brought Petite Charlotte with him.

The courtyard was nothing extraordinary. The ground tiles matched the roof tiles, the pillars were plain black, and besides wondering how it could possibly be placed in the center of the chateau, it looked like an ordinary courtyard. Even the magnolia tree, with dangling bottles filled with shrunken heads, didn't faze Charles.

The moment Alastor turned away from the table to greet Charles, the boy didn't flinch. "Well, if it isn't Charles Frollo! Alastor, pleasure to make your acquaintance at last!" He shook Charles' hands, nearly threatening to rip it off. Charles retained himself from letting a pained sound. "I see you are short of one guest!"

"You mean Amar?" The moment the hands let go, Charles hid his to wiggle his wrist behind his back. "He's doing his homework… with bile-spiked coffee."

A static scratch came from the demon. "What a waste of coffee! Speaking of which, ours is getting cold!" Alastor motioned to the nearest chair. Charles nodded and sat down, pulling it as close to the table as he could. His dagger brushed against his skin when his leg hit that of the chair. Charles carefully watched the demon pour black coffee in two cups. He noticed the lacking presence of any sweeteners or typical coffee condiments.

"I hope you forgive my lack of additional flavors, but I prefer my coffee black." Alastor placed a cup before Charles. The human boy glared at his beverage suspiciously. "Seeking anything, my young fellow?"

Charles looked straight at Alastor. "You can't really blame me for suspecting things…"

Smile still plastered on his face, Alastor gasped in humor. "You suggest that a host like myself would poison his guest?"

"I'd suggest anything about anyone. My father's idea of breakfast was to show me three pieces of old bread and hide something in two of them. If I chose a piece with a 'token of sin within' as he put it, he'd slap me and have me get on with my morning with my stomach gurgling for mercy." Charles shrugged. Memories flooded his head. Bread was always foul on the Isle of the Lost but Frollo hiding thick copper coins in the bread was worst. Charles had lost count of all the mornings he went to Gill's house with an empty stomach, a bruised face, and a bleeding lip. Even Gaston, of all the perverted brutes out there, had enough mercy to let Charles use their tablecloth to wipe away the blood. Charles touched the cheek where he got slapped the most and stared back at Alastor.

"Too bad your old salad of a father knew nothing about saying grace."

"Excuse me?"

"He should have said 'Lettuce Pray!'" A laugh track sounded out of him as he laughed, his shadow waving the silhouette of a lettuce leaf. Charles felt his sides hurt and he bit his lips.

"He couldn't possibly walk a day in your shoes, they wouldn't fit!"

The giggles were threatening to come out. Charles used his hands to cover his mouth. Even Petite Charlotte, who was chewing on some dead grass nearby, giggled.

"I say, my young fellow, have you tried making a pencil using two erasers? Because I certainly found it pointless!"

Charles couldn't help it. He found himself laughing uncontrollably. "What is wrong with you…" He laughed.

"Nothing. I am merely an unredeemable demon with a sense of humor." Alastor drank his coffee. Caught up with his own laughter, Charles took a sip of his own cup. He had to admit, this was probably the best coffee in his life. Alastor then revealed the breakfast he had concocted: French toast and some porridge concoction.

"What's this?" Charles pointed at his porridge bowl.

"Grits, my curious fellow. It is made from grounded, dried corn. Usually tastiest when served with meat, but I wasn't certain if you had carnivorous preferences for breakfast."

Charles failed to question himself what was wrong with him. It was textbook obvious to never accept food from demons! But how could he deny it? Last night's food was delicious and the creature that could kill him on the spot was offering him more than his own fanatic paternal ever did! Mouth watering and begging for food, Charles gave in. He took a bite out of it. The warm grits went down his throat like a savory waterfall and the French toast was crunchy under his teeth. He ate slowly, savoring the bites.

"Thank you…"

"Please! It's my pleasure!"

Charles then noticed that compared to his own plate, Alastor's plate wasn't filled with much food. The radio demon mostly refilled and drank his coffee. "Aren't you hungry?"

"A fellow like me learns to ration what he eats on working days!" Alastor said.

"Working days… at the radio?"

"That and much more invigorating entertainment! Small promenades in the city to broadcast the local terrors, the rightful murders here and there, the triggering of demon fights, and my work at the hotel as co-owner, head promoter, and financial backbone! And now, hosting a trio of living, entertaining sources! A fallen queen, a demon hunter… and a brat." Charles saw Alastor scratching his gloved nails on the tablecloth. "Forgive me, I have my reserves about my unexpected guest."

"Pain shared, believed me!" Charles rolled his eyes. "He scared hundreds of demons out of the hotel by fake screaming that cannibals were attacking him."

"What a creative outlet!" Alastor laughed.

"They all thought you were going to eat them."

With one single squeeze, Alastor crushed the cup in his hands. The coffee that hit the tablecloth slithered away all on its own. Charles stopped his hand from scooping up more grits. Alastor's smile was still present, but the dead silence, followed by the radio static-free voice, hinted that the demon was angry.

"I'm afraid I realized that I'm running late to my duties; you'll have to excuse me." Alastor nodded and curtly nodded to Charles. "It was a pleasure meeting you, my young fellow, and I look forward to seeing you again tonight. Please, do enjoy your day of learning."

To that, Alastor left the courtyard, his shadow following him.

Seconds later

Alastor never hosted parties in his own estate. If anything, the ballroom was more of an aesthetic choice and for a location of entertainment for his employee's gaming nights. It didn't really surprise him that a child would use the empty quiet space to study, but when he burst the doors open, he saw how the brat had converted it into his personal lesson room of chaos. Curtains shut, nearly all the tables and chairs stacked in a pyramid, and only two tables being used. One was stashed by books, chemistry kits, and jarred ingredients. The other had an abomination lying down on its back while Amar Blight-Noceda held a dagger in one hand and a book on the other.

"What, pray tell, are you doing?" Alastor demanded.

"Uh, repasando lecciones anteriores. Obviamente." (Uh, going over previous lessons. Obviously.)

"My dear underaged fellow, I don't speak your dialect," Alastor said, doing his best to remain patient. "Please, in English, what are you doing?"

"What happened to manners?" Amar brought down the dagger onto his abomination. It made indifferent moaning sounds while its master moved the dagger around, carving out a square opening. The child pulled a gooey replica of a human heart. "I'm supposed to be the bratty kid with no manners and you're the adult who's supposed to remind me that I need to be polite when meeting people."

"I need no introductions!" Alastor laughed, a laugh track in the background. "I am Alastor the Radio Demon! Overlord of Hell and proprietor of most of the wrath and gluttony territories in the Pride Ring! Authentic practitioner of demon magic and voodoo!" He teleported himself behind Amar. "And you are the sociopathic of Democles Pines-Cipher. Amar Blight-Noceda, a walking terror of irony compared to his supposedly heroic mothers whose presence in my domain is unexpected and undesired. Rather straightforward with the blunt insults and a door vandalizer!"

"Guilty." Amar tossed the gooey heart into a jar. The abomination oozed its way into the jar, sealing itself in. "Nice meeting you, but we've both got out week day commitments. I'm sure you need to make your way to the hotel. I need to go over my last Bard magic lesson before transitioning to my 7:30am meditation."

Alastor just glared at the boy. He was too rude for his tastes and really needed to be reminded on respecting others. He brought down his hand, intending to grab the boy's shoulder, to turn him and have a serious eye contact. His hand was a few inches away from the shoulder, but Amar, who was trying to clean the goo off the dagger, merely lifted his hand up and held his weapon up. He still had his back turned but he managed to stop Alastor from touching him.

"You know, I was just going over my Mortal History lesson about Aztecs. I was going over their specialty in human sacrifices, the heart extraction was the fun part. Did you know, Señor Alastor, that before the Europeans destroyed them, the Aztecs believed that human sacrifices was to return cosmic energy to the universe? The more people they sacrificed, the longer the end of the world was prevented." He twirled the blade perfectly through his fingers. "It's an authentic mosaic-handle dagger. My mamá bought it for my birthday from an ancient weapons antique shop. I don't think you noticed, but I like ancient South American weapons and magic."

"How lovely! You truly reenact history by using relics for your lessons!"

"I've also destroyed a lot of my toys with this." Amar stopped twirling. "Every time someone got too close to my space and got turned into a toy for my entertainment, I use this knife to cut their guts open. Did Charles and Audrey tell you? After Crystal Maze turned the Grand High Witch's daughter Leona into a stuffed animal and gave it to me, I used this same dagger to cut the toy open and stuff it with spiders. I turned it into a voodoo doll, I cut its head off, and I turned what was left of it into one of my Frankenstein's monsters."

"Sounds like a delightful carnage!"

"I wonder what would happen," Amar finally turned to look at Alastor, "if Audrey wakes up, finds Charles Frollo dead from an Aztec dagger jammed in his skull, and concludes that her demon killed him to satisfy his cannibal cravings to taunt her?"

Alastor remained stiffer than a deer in headlights. "You speak boldly for a child with tastes," he said.

"The child with tastes who must have hit a nerve for you to lose that static tune of yours." Amar sheathed his dagger and hid it in his school uniform. He walked past Alastor to fetch a small guitar resting by a pile of books.

"I happen to have standards when it comes to those praying on the weak and my dinners' ages. I might make an exception though," Alastor warned through his smile.

"Good luck!" Amar snorted, adjusting the string of his guitar. "I'm sure Audrey will hate your guts even more if two of her friends are dead when she hasn't even lifted her pinkie. You might want to tell Indigo to clean your chateau a bit better. The vermin told me everything."

"I have no rodents or insects in my domain."

"There's always the germs that fill the air," Amar pointed out. "Maybe I should give Charles a severe flu… The Grand High Witch did remove that lung problem he suffered since childhood, but his lungs are still weak. I wonder if I could accidentally kill him the same way Audrey's psycho nemesis framed her by killing Carlos…"

"What do you want from me that will not endanger your friend's life?" Alastor finally asked.

"My only friend in this building is napping. Señor Seguin Junior and his goat mean nothing to me. The only thing you and I are both into is getting the contract through. You stay out of my business, I stay out of yours, and in 1824 days from now, we never have to see each other forever. No deal, but a promise. OK, amigo?"

"Perfectly well, my good fellow!"

Hours later

A few radio broadcasts and killing sprees later, Alastor finally made it to the Hazbin Hotel. With the mood he was in, the first he'd have to do was get a drink at the bar.

An immediate silence greeted him the moment he stepped in. At this rate, he knew the routine. Husker would be drunk at the bar, Nifty would be rampaging around the hotel to wipe away the dust, Charlie and Vagatha would be leading another group therapy with the remaining patrons, and Angel Dust… would be working. He sighed internally… As entertaining as it was to watch the chaos of demons struggling to redeem themselves, it did get boring when staff routines got repetitive… and he got worried every time Angel Dust returned from work less like a sinner and more like a torn apart doll. Entertainment came with wrapped in layers of boredom.

Naturally, he didn't expect Husker to be orienting someone at the bar. He sensed the Fae magic coming from the girl. Probably one of the temporary newcomers, the Fae princess his goddaughter told him much about.

"Husker, my good fellow!"

Husker and his newfound helper both yelped.

"What the motherfucking Hell, Al?" Husker exclaimed. "I ain't in the mood to die on a Monday!"

"Don't you have nine lives?" His newfound helper asked.

"You want your head in one piece?"

"Sorry."

"Morning to you both! I don't believe we've met, my dear!" Alastor addressed the girl. "Alastor's my name! You must be Crystal Maze, the Princess of the Goblins! Beatrice told me so much about you!"

"Nice meeting you as well." Crystal crossed her arms. Her lilac button-up shirt's sleeves were rolled up to her elbows and was covered by a black waistcoat. "I'm not shaking your hand."

"Only natural," Alastor pulled a stool and sat at the bar. "A shot of bourbon, Husker, if you please!"

"It's Monday, bitch." Husker pointed at the chalkboard hanging next to the shelves.

Monday Mocktails All-Day. Happy Hours All Day.

The chalk drawn suns with goofy smiles were a dead giveaway that this must be Charlie's doing.

"Very well! The most bitter mocktail you can concoct, if you please!"

Husker didn't flinch. Crystal Maze pulled out a medium-sized glass and stirred two different red-colored liquids in it. After adding in sparkling water, draining a lemon of its acids, and pouring some see-through liquid from a small flask, she slid the glass to Alastor. "My Dad's Guts, homemade mocktail. Husk said you like anything bitter, so I went for my most bitter recipe."

"Interesting. What are the ingredients?"

"Cranberry and pomegranate juice, obviously lemon and sparkling water, and tears of despairs."

This definitely spiked his interest. Alastor took a sip. Bitter fruits and the cries of a broken heart went down his throat. Such entertaining flavors. "Delicious. However did you acquire the tears?"

"My friend Ozzy has been crying all morning. She misses her boyfriend, Charles Frollo. How are my friends in your lair?"

"Taking a fine day of recuperation, exploration, and education. Our dear Audrey is taking a well needed rest for as long as she needs, our fellow Charles is at his leisure, and Amar Blight-Noceda… is doing his homeschooling work."

Crystal Maze nodded in gratitude.

"I see that the princess has been generous to give you temporary employment as Husker's assistant! What of Charles' sister? The sole one who must resist the temptations of Hell to reach the next phase of her quest?"

"Helping Nifty clean. The princess is trying to explain to the others why the guests are here." Husker passed some glasses for Crystal to clean. "Especially what not to do with the human… or tell anyone outside the hotel that she's here. Maze here told me how her girlfriend really fucked up just before you got here."

Alastor leaned in eagerly. "Oh, how I love the drama caused on the mortal realm! What has your darling done?"

Crystal started opening her mouth, but Husker cut in. "Provoked the head bitches of that kid killing coven into auctioning her dead soul to Angel's boss."

Alastor broke his glass, ruining the delicious mocktail Crystal had made him. He knew what Husker was talking about. Bald, rash-headed witches. Clawed fingers, toe-less feet, noses that could widen to sniff out children, and disgusting elongated mouths that disturbed demons. Even those who were terrified of Alastor's sadistic smile preferred his unchanging expression, unlike those witches that looked like they ripped through their cheeks whenever those snake mouths smiled or got angry. Their antics of murdering mortal children due to 'their filthy dog dropping stench' was revolting to his eyes, an equal level to his own hatred of canine creatures. He did not understand why Hell bred these creatures. If anything, he was relieved that he never encountered one of them in his own youth. And when he found out through his good friend Beetlejuice that the Grand High Witch had tried to harm Alastor's beloved goddaughter as a toddler, his feast on numerous of the witch's followers gave her enough reasoning to not mess with him.

Retribution on the rightfully wicked was always among the best feasts.

Unfortunately, along with murdering children, those witches had too much indecency and auctioned off the poor souls to well-off demons. Angel Dust had told him the unfortunate stories of his lewd employer, the repulsive Valentino, purchasing the witches' 'trophies' if the results were of teenage years and with enough physical beauty to… Alastor just wanted to vomit… It never helped when Angel Dust brought up the suicides that followed via leftover holy weapons.

"Gothy didn't know what she was getting herself into!" Crystal protested. "Leona Ernst got pissed when Gothy protected the kid the bitch was targeting, I turned Leona into a plush toy when she tried killing Gothy, the Grand High Witch died in that train accident, and Amar outright destroyed Leona!"

"Guess that explains why Miranda ran out," Husker shrugged.

That got Alastor's attention. He didn't retain the names of all the patrons at the Hazbin Hotel unless they were unique guests. Unfortunately, 'Miranda' was the sole patron who happened to be a witch like Leona and the Grand High Witch. Miranda was a Hellborn, only lived on the mortal surface for a few years, and then died when a child foiled her schemes. She came to the hotel claiming redemption, but she was phonier than Angel Dust when he first checked in: she only wanted to partially redeem herself for the sake of living again and continuing her coven's goals.

Not to mention that her teenage, celebrity crush on Alastor was revolting.

"Wasn't Miranda allowed by Charlie to go on that week-long holiday to her cousin's in Wrath for the Harvest Moon Festival?" Alastor asked. "Now that I think of it, how many patrons do we have left?"

"If you count me, Ozzy, and Gothy, the hotel officially has ten patrons left," Crystal answered. "Some sinners bailed yesterday, and Miranda just bailed after stepping in this morning. It was before I came down. Husker told her what happened and she ran for it."

"The bitch didn't even take her stuff from her room. Told us to burn everything for all she cared," Husker shrugged.

"And I missed it!" What a relief! That was one patron he would not miss. "Why would yesterday's events cause her to flee? From what I understand, I have not eaten anyone in the perimeter."

Then he got the only answer he needed from Crystal.

"She found out that Amar was in the hotel. Apparently, he tormented so many witches from the Grand High Witch's coven, they're as afraid of the kid as Hell is afraid of you. Amar got Miranda killed when she tried targeting him."

Much later in the day

Amar scrubbed the final spot of the ballroom floor. He looked around, pleased that he cleaned the whole room to the point where all the surfaces shined.

If anything, his day had gone well after his minor 'first introduction' with Alastor. Writing paragraphs in Spanish? Check. Memorizing the ingredients for sleeping brews? Check. Walking around the rose maze for his first recess? Check. Struggling in his three-times table? Check. Practicing a rat's revival with liver? Check. Eating Mrs. Whovier's leftovers for lunch? Check. Crying over the history of colonialism and the destruction of empires? Check. Practicing his Spanish guitar to magically open the windows? Check.

The only mishaps had been his healing and bard magic exercises. Amar didn't understand what was going on with his magic. It seemed like since his arrival in Hell, it had gone into overload. For some reason, his magic's idea of reviving the rat with liquified liver was to have the rat explode, staining the walls with blood… and for the bones to regenerate into a horde of rats. Indigo Caligo had a heart attack the moment the rats got loose. Amar had tried to conceal them in the bathroom until second recess, but that didn't work. When he practiced playing a four-note tune to magically open the windows in the ballroom specifically, it caused all the windows in the chateau to slam open, breaking the glass and releasing the rats.

It wasn't really a punishment if Amar volunteered to clean the ballroom all by himself, no magic and no abomination to help him. He kinda earned it. Indigo Caligo, suffering from her rat phobia, was flying around chasing away the rats with her broom, Celia Facilier helping her chase them to the Blood Lake in the hopes of feeding them to the gators. Bayou and Charles were fixing the windows and checking on Audrey (the chaos had done nothing to wake her up). And all the cat demons were goners, going crazy around the perimeters as they chased their all-you-can-eat-buffets.

Amar looked at all the surfaces reflecting his small body… and the state of his hands. He gasped, which only worsened when he noticed the ballroom's Art Deco clock revealing that the time was 5:45pm. He heard the environment outside agitating.

Alastor was back. And Amar needed to get out of sight as fast as possible.

He couldn't let people see the state of his hands. He had no dry towels left, so in a panic, he rubbed his hands dry with the ballroom curtains. Unfortunately, it left stains on the curtain. Freaking out, he created a summoning circle, changing the stains' colors to dissolve with the curtains' red color. Grabbing his backpack, Amar ran for the doors.

They opened and in stepped the Radio Demon, a purple box with a pink bow at hand.

"Can I help you?" Amar pretended to be unfazed.

"Hello, my dear fellow! I hope your day was splendid following our foul introductions." The doors closed behind Alastor. "A little mishap with your spells, I heard?"

"Yes… I think my magic is going over the top. I apologize for the rats and the windows!" Amar clasped his hands behind his back.

Alastor tilted his head. "Suddenly running away. What happened to the boy who threatened one of my guests' lives?"

"I'm a kid, I have my days. You know how it goes. Anyway, I have a delayed tea party with my toys, so if you'll excuse me, I'll leave you to bring your package upstairs." Amar started walking past Alastor. He stopped, sniffing the air. He smelled something coming from the box.

Fear.

Danger.

Magical bile.

"What's in the box?" Amar asked, trying to hold his excited interest.

"A peace offering. Once I knew we had a common interest, I knew I had to collect it for you."

Amar raised his eyebrows. "What could we possibly have in common?"

"Oh, just the disdain for certain breeds…" Alastor opened the box and unceremoniously dumped its content on the floor. Or in better words, the person he managed to force into the box… alive.

Bald headed with splashes of rashes. Scars on her cheeks to hide her real mouth. Clawed fingers. Sandals revealing her toe-less feet. The teenaged, child murdering witch gasped for air as she struggled to kneel.

"Mr. Alastor, I'm really sorry if this is about the letter I slipped into your office before I left!" Miranda begged. "I don't plan on coming back to the Hazbin Hotel, I swear! Just don't have me go there!"

And Alastor saw it. The look of death in Amar when he recognized the witch. It got the demon's curiosity. From what he understood, Miranda's species of witches could sniff children from their 'dog's dropping stench'. Yet Miranda seemed unaware about the child standing behind her. Not until Amar pressed one finger against the root of her spine.

"No…" Miranda choked. "Not again…"

"Had fun in Hell while it lasted?" Amar asked, his young voice void of any emotion. "You remember the fun times you had above?"

"Mr. Alastor… Please…" Miranda begged.

"You know, I was willing to forgive you for doing the stupid stuff you tried to do… but that stunt of yours was the last straw." Amar pulled his finger back, clenching his hand in a fist. Miranda curled and choke. Amar waved his arm and Miranda unleashed a screaming choke. Alastor watched, entertained by the unexpected torture as Miranda threw up her own entire liver out of her mouth. The witch collapsed on the floor, unable to speak. She was too busy hyperventilating, trying to breathe as much as her heart could beat. Without her liver, she didn't have much to live.

Amar picked the blood-soaked liver with his hands. He squeezed his fingers through the flesh, ripping out the gallbladder from it. Alastor was too busy grinning at the sight of the squirming witch, he didn't notice the flash in Amar's eyes as the small boy quickly swallowed the bile-filled organ.

"I think Miranda gets the idea that she only has a day to live. Without her liver, that is." Amar licked his lips and turned to properly look at Alastor. The small boy walked over, placing the liver in Alastor's hand. "Thank you for the peace offering, Señor Alastor."

Confused as to what he missed, Alastor watched Amar Blight-Noceda leave the ballroom for the day. He looked down at the dying Miranda, boringly transporting her soon-to-be corpse into the Blood Lake for the gators to eat while he took her liver elsewhere.