Emily stood frozen in the center of the Hazbin Hotel's grand hall, surrounded by sinners of every imaginable shape and form. Some stared at her with fear, others with suspicion, and only a few dared to meet her gaze. The atmosphere felt suffocating, like the charged air before a violent storm.

None of the guests dared to move or speak. Their eyes were heavy with tension—the kind that only came from having witnessed heavenly wrath firsthand. To them, every angel was a living symbol of terror, a reminder of the annual massacres that rained down from above. Even without the angelic steel spear of an exorcist, Emily embodied everything that haunted them: murderous fury and an insatiable thirst for blood. And if a common exorcist angel could wipe out hordes of sinners alone, what could a seraph like her do?

But Emily didn't feel at ease either. The air felt thick, almost tangible, like a violin string pulled too tight. Every second she spent in that place made her feel more out of place—not just because of her celestial nature, but because it was her first time being surrounded by real sinners. Creatures who had chosen evil in life and were now, perhaps, searching for redemption. While their presence was theoretically justified by Charlie's project, Emily couldn't shake the deep discomfort gnawing at her.

Their silence and stares stripped her bare, as if their hollow, tormented eyes were screaming: "You don't belong here."

And in a way, they were right. She was here as an envoy, tasked with delivering secret documents about Nephilim to Charlie—documents that would help the young heiress control her destructive new form.

She was also here to prepare for the fight against Roo, the looming threat that endangered the fragile balance between Heaven and Hell.

Yet, her heart told her this wasn't truly her mission.

Emily felt, deep down, that no celestial being should set foot in Hell—fallen or not. It was a principle etched into the very fabric of Creation. And yet, here she was, treading on ground soaked in decay. Every corner of Hell screamed of suffering; every glance reflected unimaginable torment. The dissonance was overwhelming: How could redemption take root in a place designed to snuff out every flicker of hope?

A sudden, sharp thought pierced her mind: "If this is what Hell does to an angel… what does it do to a human soul?"

Emily shivered. For the first time, she truly grasped the weight of this place, the reason why Lucifer—despite his power and creativity—had sunk into depression. Hell was a perfect machine, a cruel system designed to break even the strongest spirit, to reduce every fragment of will to ash. The sensation was overwhelming, an echo of universal pain that seeped into every corner of this realm.

She took a deep breath, trying to muster some semblance of calm. Her fingers tightened around the handle of the suitcase containing the documents, and with renewed resolve, she repeated her question:

«Can someone please tell me where Charlie is? I have an urgent delivery for her.»

Her words seemed to vanish into the silent hall, swallowed by the thick, heavy air. The sinners' gazes, laden with suspicion and a hint of hostility, felt like daggers piercing through her, making her feel like an intruder. The slight tremor in her legs was almost imperceptible, but to her, it was a clear sign that the environment was winning. Hell was exactly what she had imagined—oppressive, alienating, capable of eroding even the firmest resolve.

Just as she felt herself teetering on the brink of giving in, a familiar voice cut through the tension, clear and commanding like a lighthouse in the darkest night:

«Alright, you've all been creepy enough. Thanks for welcoming our guest, but we'll take it from here! The hotel staff will handle this.»

Emily's head snapped up, and a wave of relief washed over her when she saw a familiar figure pushing through the crowd. Even with the dragon mask covering his face, there was no doubt—it was Adam. She already knew he was here, but seeing him in person, in this oppressive moment, was an unexpected comfort.

A smile blossomed on her face, and without thinking twice, she rushed toward him and threw her arms around him in an enthusiastic hug:

«Adam! I never thought I'd be this happy to see you!»

Adam stiffened for a brief moment, clearly surprised by her reaction, but eventually returned the hug with a small, restrained warmth. Then, lowering his voice, he whispered:

«Try not to use my name out loud, Emily. There are still plenty of folks down here who'd love to see me dead.»

Emily pulled back slowly, letting out a nervous laugh. She glanced around at the sinners dispersing under the urging of the hotel's security staff, thinking to herself: "Can't say I blame them."

Adam turned to her, his tone pragmatic, as if trying to avoid further trouble:

«Come on. Charlie should be in her office by now. I'll take you there—no need for more scenes.»

Emily nodded, clutching the suitcase handle tightly. As she followed Adam down the decaying hallways of the Hazbin Hotel, a familiar sense of comfort began to ease her anxiety. Hell was still suffocating, but knowing there was at least one friendly face here gave her the courage to keep moving.

Adam, meanwhile, walked in silence, his eyes scanning their surroundings with practiced vigilance. Emily couldn't help but notice the contrast between the man she remembered from Heaven and the one walking beside her now. Whatever he had been through had changed him profoundly.

For a moment, she found it almost ironic to be in such a dreadful place and yet feel relieved by the presence of someone she would've never expected to find comfort in back in Heaven.

«Adam…» she finally said, breaking the silence, «I don't know how you manage to live here. I've been here for minutes, and I already feel like I'm suffocating.»

He paused for a moment, turning to look at her. Even beneath the mask, Emily could sense a shadow of melancholy:

«You get used to it. It's never easy, but eventually, you figure out how to survive. And for what it's worth… I'm glad to see you too, Emily.»

His words were simple but genuine, giving her another surge of strength. No matter how crushing the environment was, at least she wasn't entirely alone.
—

The more they walked, the more Emily noticed just how different Adam was from the man she remembered. His posture, once proud and commanding, now seemed slightly hunched, as if weighed down by an invisible burden. That confident, cocky air that had always defined him in Heaven was gone. In its place was a man who looked worried—not just for himself, but for her. With every step, he made sure she was alright, gently placing a hand behind her back to steady her, careful never to cross the boundaries of her comfort.

Emily was, to say the least, surprised. The Adam she knew would've likely made some sexist joke and taken advantage of Sera's absence to touch her inappropriately, wearing that smug grin she'd always despised. But the man walking beside her wasn't the First Man who, just a few months ago, had commanded legions of exorcists in Heaven. The person at her side was someone else. Someone who had quite literally walked through Hell—and had come out the other side changed, marked deeply in both body and spirit.

Emily found herself studying him as they walked in silence, trying to catch every nuance of that transformation. Adam was no longer the symbol of divine perfection he had always believed himself to be, but a man—or rather, a sinner—carrying the weight of his choices like a chain. And deep down, Emily couldn't help but wonder how much Hell had truly contributed to that change.

Once again, the thought of how this place could break or reshape anyone who fell into it crept into her mind. She couldn't shake the question that had been gnawing at her for some time: Did people really deserve to suffer like this? Everyone was thrown into the same pit, with no distinction between a genocidal maniac, a petty fraudster, or a desperate soul who'd been backed into a corner. Was this really the right way?

Her reflection was interrupted when Adam opened the door to a glass elevator. They stepped inside, and he pressed a button for one of the upper floors. As the elevator began its ascent, Emily found herself taking in the Hazbin Hotel in its entirety.

Despite being built atop a place of suffering, the Hotel was richly decorated—almost lavish. The warm colors and diffused lighting created an atmosphere that was both welcoming and surreal, as if within these walls, one could find a brief reprieve from Hell's anguish. The glass elevators, silent and elegant, glided smoothly between floors, revealing rooms adorned with fiery red wallpaper. Handrails, plated in a gleaming yellow metal that resembled gold, caught the light like rays of sunshine. Shadowy, anthropomorphic figures moved about tirelessly, serving guests with quiet efficiency.

The contrast between the inside and outside was almost tangible. Outside, Hell was a place of terror and torment, but inside the Hazbin Hotel, there was a safe haven—a refuge. Emily couldn't help but notice how many people sought comfort in this oasis amidst chaos. The Hotel wasn't just a building; it was a symbol. A place that gave sinners hope, however fragile, that they could be more than what they had been.

For a moment, Emily felt lighter. And yet, the weight of her questions still pressed on her heart. She glanced at Adam again, studying his tired yet determined face, and wondered how much of him had been reshaped by that same hope.

A soft ding pulled her from her thoughts, announcing their arrival at the desired floor. The doors slid open with a smooth motion, revealing a long hallway illuminated by lamps that cast a warm, welcoming glow.

Adam continued to walk beside her, his steps slow but steady. Emily gripped the suitcase handle with both hands, but the weight was starting to get to her. Despite her angelic nature, the journey and the accumulated tension were beginning to leave their mark. Still, she didn't want to ask Adam for help. Something in her pride—or perhaps in the memory of his old behavior—kept her from doing so.

But Adam wasn't the cold, arrogant general Emily remembered. A quick glance was all it took for him to realize how much she was struggling.

«Hey, Em,» he said gently, stopping to meet her eyes. «You alright? That suitcase giving you trouble?»

Emily shook her head quickly, trying not to betray her exhaustion. «No,» she replied with a forced smile. «It's just… the new environment. I'm still getting used to it.»

Before Adam could respond, a bright, cheerful voice echoed down the hallway, muffled by distance but unmistakable in its liveliness.

Emily's face lit up instantly, as if the tension that had been weighing on her had been swept away in an instant. Recharged with new energy, she quickened her pace toward the direction of the voice.

«Charlie!» she called out, a genuine smile spreading across her face as she hurried down the corridor.

Adam lingered a few steps behind, watching her with a small smile of his own. Despite the place and the circumstances, there was something comforting about seeing Emily find her strength again, even if just for a moment.

—

Inside Charlie's office, located at the end of the corridor where Emily and Adam were walking, the Princess of Hell was enthusiastically discussing her plans to expand the Hazbin Hotel.

Around her desk, seated in far-from-formal poses, were Vaggie and Lucifer, both eyeing a large map of the Hotel's property. Charlie pointed out the surrounding land as if it already belonged to her, gesturing animatedly as she explained her ideas.

«We'll put the paintball field here.» she exclaimed, jabbing a finger at an area next to the main building. «Close to the pool, but not too close—you know, so it won't bother anyone trying to relax.» Then she shifted her attention to another spot behind the Hotel. «And here, we'll build a spa and wellness center, connected to the Hotel through an underground tunnel. It'll be perfect!»

Vaggie, ever the pragmatist, crossed her arms and commented with a measured tone, «Babe, if you add all these attractions, we might end up with people checking in just to use the facilities—not for redemption.»

Charlie nodded, admitting, «Yeah, that's a risk. But maybe, seeing how happy everyone is here, they'll change their minds and stay to redeem themselves. Angel and Pentious joined for personal gain at first. Look at them now—one's in Heaven and the other…» She gave a small, emotional smile, clearly touched by Angel's progress. «Well, we know how far he's come. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if he's the next to redeem.»

«Angel? Redeemed? Ha!» Vaggie scoffed, rolling her good eye toward the ceiling. «He's still a little too into porn and substances to be Heaven-bound anytime soon.»

Charlie waved a hand dismissively. «Give him time. It's not easy for an addict to break free from that.» She leaned her elbows on the desk, resting her chin on her fists with a mischievous grin. «Maybe a little romance could speed things up!»

Lucifer, who had been quietly listening with a half-smile, raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, suddenly intrigued. «Hold on, what now?» he asked, his curiosity piqued. «Romance? What'd I miss?»

Charlie's sly grin widened as she swayed playfully in her seat. «Let's just say I'm helping a certain someone play matchmaker for her big brother. You know her well—she helped you clear out the lab!»

Still confused, Lucifer tried to recall who had helped him with that task, until it clicked. Kitty.

Chuckling, Lucifer made a steaming cup of tea appear out of thin air, clearly settling in for some juicy gossip. «No way! Headshot and Angel? Of all the couples that could've formed… Now that's interesting!»

Vaggie, however, kept her tone serious, resisting the excitement swirling around them. «Yeah, well, I still think we shouldn't get too involved. Let them figure it out on their own. If we push them, we'll just mess things up.»

Charlie waved her hand reassuringly. «Oh, relax. I'm not trying to force them together. I just… want to set the mood. I don't know if you saw them today during the paintball game, but they're one romantic gesture away from being a couple! It's gonna be amazing!» She clapped her hands like an excited kid, then tried to regain some composure.

«But, back to business.» she continued, pointing to a spot on the map. «With the number of guests growing and the waitlist getting longer, I was thinking of buying some land near the Hotel to build a similar structure…»

Before she could finish, an unexpected sound interrupted the group's focus. The office door creaked open slowly behind them. Charlie, Vaggie, and Lucifer turned in unison, and the room fell into a heavy, tense silence.

Standing at the threshold, with a large suitcase in hand and an almost fearful expression on her face, was Emily. The young seraph stared at the room's occupants with wide eyes, as if time itself had frozen.

Timidly, Emily raised her hand and gave a small wave. «Hey. I'm here.»

«Em?» Charlie asked, equally surprised. The disbelief on the Princess of Hell's face quickly melted into an explosion of joy. «Emily!» she exclaimed, rushing toward her and pulling her into a warm embrace, completely ignoring the jealous glance Vaggie shot from beside her.

«I'm so happy to see you in person again!» Charlie added enthusiastically, squeezing her tightly. Then, gently placing her hands on Emily's shoulders, her tone shifted, a note of concern creeping into her voice. «What happened? Why are you here? Did… did you Fall?»

At the mention of a possible Fall, Lucifer and Vaggie exchanged a knowing glance. They both understood all too well the weight of such an event. For an angel, Falling meant severing every tie with Heaven and facing a brutal new existence in Hell. If that was really Emily's case, their first priority would be helping her find her footing in this cruel, unforgiving world.

Emily, however, raised a hand to reassure them, her face relaxing into a soft smile. «No, no, I didn't Fall. I'm here as an ambassador.» Then she turned a fond gaze to Charlie. «I'm glad to see you're okay. When I saw you in that… form, I was terrified. I thought you'd never come back from it. What happened? How did you regain control?»

Charlie shrugged with a modest smile. «An angelic seal and a heartfelt monologue from my friend Angel brought me back to my senses. And I have Adam to thank for helping, too.» She gestured toward the First Man, who was peeking shyly from behind the door, lingering in the background.

Adam, looking more humble than usual, tried to downplay his role. «If Headshot hadn't found the Deus Ex Machina, I wouldn't have been able to activate the seal…» he began, but stopped when Emily subtly raised a hand to silence him, perhaps fearing he'd reveal too much.

But Charlie gently reassured her. «Em, it's okay. Everyone in here knows about the Deus Ex Machina. My dad talked about it with me and Vaggie, and its current bearer is fully aware of how important it is.»

Emily stiffened for a moment, disbelief etched across her face. «What? The Deus Ex Machina has a new bearer? Here, in Hell?»

Before Charlie could answer, Lucifer chimed in with his usual casual tone. «Indeed!» he declared, lifting the cup of tea he'd conjured earlier. «Even I was surprised. It's rare for an artifact like that to choose new champions, but for it to pick a sinner… Now that is a first.»

Emily's mind was racing. Never in all her immortal existence had she imagined she'd come face to face with the King of Hell. The descriptions she'd heard in Heaven didn't do justice to the seraph standing before her. Lilith had painted him as a tormented being, weighed down by his rebellion, while others described him as a ruthless, vengeful monster.

And yet, Lucifer was neither.

He appeared calm, almost serene, and certainly far from the tyrant or reclusive depressive she'd expected. His presence wasn't menacing at all. In fact, it was shockingly different from what Emily had imagined. His gestures were relaxed, his posture elegant without being intimidating, and his smile—though ambiguous—didn't radiate hostility.

Emily was especially struck by his theatrical air, as if he were performing a role more for amusement than necessity. Every movement, every inflection in his voice seemed designed to captivate, to maintain control of the room without ever raising his voice. Despite his apparent lightness, there was a depth in his eyes that sent a chill down her spine—an expression that seemed to pierce beyond the surface, straight into the heart of her fears and insecurities.

And yet, he wasn't what she'd expected. He wasn't a monster, nor a terrifying figure. If anything, his appearance and behavior seemed deliberately crafted to defy every stereotype about him, as if mocking those who expected something more frightening or ominous.

Emily lowered her gaze for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. Hell was slowly unraveling every certainty she'd brought with her from Heaven.

Lucifer noticed her scrutinizing gaze and offered a faint smile, more polite than mocking. «What's the matter? Were you expecting someone more… imposing and terrifying?» he asked, with the slightly ironic tone of someone who knew exactly how much his myth had been twisted.

Emily dropped her gaze again, struggling to regain her composure. «You're… not what I expected, Your Majesty.» she finally admitted, carefully choosing her words.

Lucifer chuckled, a low, velvety sound. «I'll take that as a compliment.» He paused, raising his cup in a mock toast. «And please, drop the formalities. I might be the King of Hell, but I want you to see me as a friend.»

Emily gave a small, embarrassed smile—surely, she hadn't made the best first impression by gawking at him like some sideshow attraction. She quickly changed the subject, turning back to Charlie.

«Anyway, Charlie… I brought the documents you needed.» she said, lowering the heavy suitcase she'd been carrying to the floor.

Charlie nearly bounced in place with excitement. «Finally! Come on, let me see!»

Emily opened the suitcase, revealing freshly copied, thick tomes bound in ornate hardcovers. Among them stood a smaller book, distinctly marked as the Nephilim training manual. In one corner, a bundle of yellowed letters tied with string was neatly arranged, three of which looked brand new.

The others gathered around, curiosity pulling them closer to the suitcase's contents.

Charlie's enthusiasm slowly shifted into concern as she took in the sheer number and size of the books. «That's a lot of… instructions.» she murmured, already envisioning decades of grueling, rigid training.

Emily chuckled softly, trying to reassure her. «Relax, what you really need is right here.» She lifted the small book from the suitcase. «The rest is… theory. History, predictions, science… all important stuff that's been, well, overlooked, let's say. Because, you know, sometimes it's easier to pretend things don't exist.»

Lucifer rolled his eyes dramatically, adding a sarcastic comment. «Oh, Heaven ignoring anything that might disrupt its precious order. What a shocking revelation!»

Vaggie, intrigued, picked up one of the larger tomes and flipped it open to a random page. As her eyes skimmed the text, her expression grew perplexed. «These are the Myths of Elohim. Why would anyone ignore this? What's the point of hiding something like this?»

Emily sighed, giving a slight shrug. «I'm not entirely sure.» she admitted, her tone serious. «But I think it was… convenient. Ignoring the truth makes it easier to maintain control. The history of Creation, the rise and fall of the Nephilim, the mechanics of death after death… it's all in here.» She paused, letting her words sink in. «Lilith hid everything in her home, hoping that by pretending it didn't exist, Charlie would never manifest her Nephilim form. Well… we know how that turned out. Now, we're trying a different approach.»

Charlie turned to Emily, clutching the small manual tightly. There was a new light in her eyes—a mix of hope and determination. «So all this… it's the key to learning how to control what I've become?»

Emily smiled warmly, placing a gentle but firm hand on Charlie's shoulder, as if trying to transfer her determination. «Yes. And I'm here to help you. With Adam's support!» she added, turning her gaze toward the First Man.

Adam, who had been lingering in the background, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, shook his head, visibly surprised. «Me? What do I have to do with this?» he asked, raising an eyebrow with a genuinely uncomfortable expression.

Emily chuckled, her tone playful with a hint of provocation, as if trying to nudge him forward. «Oh, don't be modest. I know you assisted Michael with the Nephilim training.»

Adam averted his gaze, clearly embarrassed. He ran a hand through his hair—a nervous tic that betrayed his discomfort. If by "assisting" Emily meant sitting around watching Michael struggle with the emotional outbursts of the Nephilim cadets, then sure, technically he'd helped. But he certainly didn't feel like a mentor. He decided to leave those details out, opting for a vague response instead. «Well, yeah… let's say I lent a hand.»

Emily nodded, satisfied with his answer, even though she knew he was downplaying it. «Perfect!» she exclaimed enthusiastically. «Because I'm counting on you and your experience. That is, if Charlie's okay with it.»

Charlie, who had been quietly listening, nodded without hesitation, a warm smile lighting up her face. «Of course.» she replied confidently, her tone full of trust. «It's true, we had our differences at the start, but since he's been here, he's made huge strides. Now… I can honestly say he's a friend. And I trust him.»

Her words were sincere, and there was a touch of emotion in her gaze—almost pride. It hadn't been easy for her to overcome her initial prejudices, but Adam's transformation had shown her that even the most complicated people could change.

But for Adam, those words felt like a dagger to the chest.

Charlie's trust weighed on him like a boulder, growing heavier with each passing second. It wasn't just the guilt from his past haunting him—it was the secret he carried, a truth eating him alive.

Adam knew he could break the hold Alastor had over him by confessing everything. Telling Charlie what he'd done—the deal, the information he'd exchanged about the Deus Ex Machina—would be difficult but necessary. He knew that truth would shatter their bond. And maybe that was exactly what paralyzed him. The fear of seeing the light in Charlie's eyes dim, of hearing her speak words that would end their fragile friendship.

For now, he'd decided to tell only Headshot. He believed the person directly affected had the right to know that, thanks to him, someone as dangerous as Alastor knew far too much about the Deus Ex Machina—maybe even more than Headshot himself. Informing Charlie, though, would be the final step, something he'd face only when everything else was resolved.

Adam forced a smile, hoping it looked genuine. «Amazing!» he exclaimed, masking the turmoil raging inside him.

«You know what? I want to start first thing tomorrow morning!» Charlie declared enthusiastically, packing the books back into the suitcase and trying to close it with a determined snap. «I can't wait to learn how to transform on command!» She tried to hoist the suitcase onto her shoulder, but the weight pulled it down with a dull thud.

Vaggie stepped forward, placing a gentle yet firm hand on her shoulder. «Babe, you're still recovering, remember?»

Charlie huffed, crossing her arms. «Come on, I'm practically healed! I can handle a workout or two…»

Vaggie shook her head patiently, trying to reason with her. «As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm, I don't think jumping straight into physical training is a great idea. And let me remind you, the gym's being used early in the morning by Headshot's guards.»

But Charlie wasn't easily discouraged. With a spark of pride, she tried lifting the suitcase again. «Perfect! We'll train together! Headshot was in a Guild, right? I bet he's got some tips!»

Lucifer, who had remained silent until now, lazily flicked a finger, magically lightening the suitcase. «Charlie… maybe you should listen to Vaggie.» he said affectionately, his tone patient and protective. «There's no rush. Until you're feeling better, you could read some of those tomes and prepare at your own pace.»

Emily, who had been quiet the whole time, suddenly lowered her gaze, her expression turning serious. «Actually… there is something…» she began, but her sentence was quickly cut off by Charlie, who brushed off both her girlfriend's and her father's concerns.

«Don't worry about me!» Charlie exclaimed, lifting her chin with a hint of pride. «I can handle myself. I even stood up to Alastor today!» she added with a satisfied grin. Then she grabbed the suitcase—now much lighter—and declared, «I'm taking these to my room and heading straight to bed!» She turned to Adam with a resolute gesture. «Adam! You and me, six AM sharp, in the gym!»

Adam gave her a perplexed look, raising an eyebrow. «Damn, that early?»

Charlie completely ignored Adam's objection and continued speaking as if everything was already set in stone. «I'm calling it a night. We'll discuss the hotel improvements tomorrow. Goodnight, everyone!» she concluded with a tired smile, heading toward the door with the suitcase in hand.

She was about to leave when Emily suddenly seemed to remember something. «Oh, Charlie, wait a minute!» she called, making Charlie stop in her tracks.

Charlie turned, surprised by her voice. Emily stepped forward, gently but firmly taking the suitcase from her hands. «I forgot to grab something.» she explained, carefully opening the suitcase.

From inside, she pulled out a small bundle of letters tied with thin string. With meticulous movements, she untied the knot and picked out the two most recent ones, pausing for a moment. She seemed to hesitate, as if deciding whether this was the right time. Finally, taking a deep breath, she handed one letter to Charlie and the other to Lucifer.

Charlie stared at the envelope in her hands, noting the soft lilac color and the dark purple wax seal that elegantly closed it. Her gaze was uncertain, almost hesitant. «Oh, um… cute, but… what are these?» she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Emily met Charlie's gaze with a serious yet gentle expression. «They're letters of apology. From Lilith.»

The room fell into a suffocating silence. The air felt heavier, like every breath was an effort. No one moved, stunned into stillness. Even Adam, who could usually break the tension with a quip, froze. For a fleeting second, he'd considered joking that he'd been waiting for his own apology for millennia, but the deeply wounded look on Lucifer's face made it clear this wasn't the time.

Vaggie, however, couldn't take her eyes off Charlie. She knew how much seeing Lilith during that call had shattered her, pushing her into that destructive form that had nearly leveled the hotel. A part of her feared that reading that letter could trigger something similar.

Charlie and Lucifer stood motionless, each lost in their own thoughts, the unopened letters still clutched in their hands. They stared at those small pieces of paper as if they contained the entire weight of their past. Their expressions were unreadable, a mix of surprise, relief, melancholy… and a hint of anger.

Finally, it was Charlie who broke the silence. Clutching the envelope with both hands, she lifted her gaze toward Emily. «She wrote… apologies?» she asked quietly, her voice trembling, as if she were afraid to hope.

Emily nodded calmly, choosing her words carefully. «She seemed genuinely sorry. Like she knew she'd messed up… in a lot of ways.»

She paused, turning her eyes to Lucifer, who still hadn't said a word. His expression was hard, but deep in his eyes was a fragility he rarely let show. Emily continued in a softer voice, as if afraid of breaking something fragile. «She's still wearing her wedding ring… despite everything.»

Charlie and Lucifer exchanged a glance. Both were surprised by the revelation, and the weight of those words lingered in the air. Lucifer, who had been silent all this time, instinctively brought his hand to his own ring. The slow, unintentional gesture revealed more than any words could.

A shadow crossed his face. There was melancholy there, perhaps regret, or maybe something even more complicated. With a deep breath, he lowered his gaze to the envelope, his face serious and reflective.

Charlie, on the other hand, looked conflicted. Her mind swung between the curiosity of reading that letter right now and the fear of what it might say. Should she do it here, in front of everyone, or wait until she was alone?

Before she could decide, she felt a gentle hand rest on her shoulder. Vaggie was beside her, offering a reassuring, supportive look. She didn't say anything, but her gesture communicated everything Charlie needed to hear.

Charlie took a deep breath, holding the envelope to her chest as if shielding herself from what it contained. «Thanks.» she murmured, not looking at Vaggie, but feeling the warmth of her support.

Lucifer, meanwhile, continued to stare at his letter, the golden ring on his finger reflecting the room's light. In a voice lower than usual, almost a whisper, he said, «I… think I need to be alone.»

Charlie watched him for a moment, concern flickering across her face at his words. However, she managed a reassuring smile, trying to mask her own worry. «Of course, Dad.» she said gently. «It's better if we read these letters in private. We might… have strong emotional reactions.»

Lucifer gave her a grateful look, then turned and left the room with slow, measured steps, the letter still clenched in his hand.

Charlie turned back to the others, trying to regain her usual enthusiasm. But it was clear her mother's letter had left a mark on her too. Still, she forced herself to maintain a cheerful front. «We could all use a good night's sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a long day.» She paused, then looked at Adam. «Adam, can you check if there are any rooms left downstairs? If not…»

Charlie hesitated for a moment, trying to think of a suitable place for Emily. But nothing came to mind immediately. «…Oh, where can we put Emily?»

Adam stepped in, his usual practical tone cutting through the tension. «I'll talk to the others. Maybe she can stay with Cherri Bomb or Angel Dust.»

Emily's face lit up instantly at the mention of their names. «I'd love to meet them!» she exclaimed with excitement. «Pentious always talks about Cherri and Angel Dust… I mean, he's practically a role model now. He might inspire other sinners to redeem themselves. I mean, if he can do it…»

Hearing those words, Charlie felt a surge of emotion. She placed a hand over her heart, moved. In that moment, she was prouder than ever of her first guest. «Angel's come such a long way,» she said with a warm, almost nostalgic smile.

Even Vaggie, who had never hidden her initial disdain for Angel, nodded with reluctant approval. «Yeah.» she admitted. «He's… improved a lot since he first arrived.»

Adam smirked slightly, crossing his arms. «I just hope he doesn't scare Emily off. Angel can be… intense.»

Emily laughed softly but confidently. «I'm a Seraph. I think I can handle him!»

Her reply drew a few chuckles from the group, a brief moment of levity that eased the lingering tension in the room.

But while the others began to relax, Charlie's eyes drifted back to her mother's letter. That small rectangle of paper, seemingly harmless, felt heavier than a mountain, weighed down with regrets, secrets, and broken expectations.

What would she find inside? What words would Lilith have chosen to justify years of silence? And more importantly—would it be enough?

Charlie took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling slowly, as her fingers gripped the letter a little too tightly, crumpling it slightly. The thought struck her like lightning: "It better be a damn good excuse."

Because if it wasn't, if that letter didn't contain an explanation that could at least begin to ease the pain Lilith had left behind, then Charlie knew their relationship would never heal.

But a small part of her, fragile and hopeful, still wanted to believe. She wanted to believe that, for once, her mother had truly thought of her—her pain, her life.

With one final, deep breath, Charlie decided she'd find the courage to face those words. But not now. Not in front of everyone.

—

Reaching his spacious, apple-shaped suite, Lucifer closed the door behind him, shutting out the forced calm of the hallway. The letter from Lilith, clutched between his fingers, felt like it was burning, heavy with years of silence and regret. The wedding ring on his finger—a symbol of a bond that was supposed to last forever—felt heavier than ever.

Even though their marriage was technically over, Lucifer had never stopped wearing that ring. It wasn't out of habit. Deep down, some part of him had never given up hope. Hope that Lilith would return, that they could mend what had been broken, that they could start over. Together.

But now, with that hope seemingly closer to reality, his mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. He felt torn in two: on one side, the disillusioned, depressed part of him kept whispering that this was all a farce, a vain attempt to cling to a dead dream. On the other, the remnants of his angelic nature—a fragile shard of optimism that had never fully faded—already pictured the moment he'd see her again. In his mind, they'd apologize to each other, forgive, and start anew.

Lucifer shook his head sharply, as if trying to physically expel those thoughts. They were too sweet, too dangerous. He couldn't risk being hurt again.

He sat on the edge of the bed, still gripping the letter tightly. The envelope, dark purple and sealed with black wax, bore Lilith's emblem stamped on it. "Her favorite colors" he thought, and his heart clenched painfully.

His gaze drifted around the room, seeking a distraction, and landed on the nightstand. Alongside the lamp, his ever-present rubber ducks, and a book, there was a pink container—Belphegor's sleeping pills.

One pill guaranteed a deep night's sleep. Two brought pleasant, relaxing dreams. But three… three showed you what you desired most.

Lucifer had taken three pills on many nights, fully aware that each time he closed his eyes under their influence, he'd be back in Lilith's arms. And those dreams, so perfect, had never changed.

In his mind, the day would begin in an ordinary way: crafting rubber ducks, a pastime that helped fill the void. Then, someone would knock at the door. When he opened it, there she was—Lilith, radiant, as if she'd never left.

He sighed, recalling all those nights spent dreaming of Lilith in every possible scenario: with Charlie by their side, in their bedroom, even in Heaven. But every morning, reality hit him like a punch to the chest. The bed was empty, the dream shattered, and his bitter tears slipped silently into the shadows.

But now, he held something different in his hands. This time, it was real.

Lucifer didn't know if this letter marked the start of reconciliation or yet another disappointment. But whatever it contained, he knew it would mean a turning point. Perhaps it was time to close a chapter of his life and begin a new one—with or without her.

He took a deep breath, his heart pounding as he braced himself for what Lilith had to say. With a decisive motion, he broke the wax seal and opened the envelope.

A soft scent of lilies hit him immediately, a touch that was so her. Carefully, he unfolded the paper, noticing how meticulously it had been folded. With slightly trembling hands, he began to read.

Lucifer,

I don't even know where to begin. Every word feels too small to contain the pain and regret I carry in my heart. But I have to try, because you deserve the truth.

When I made that pact with Adam, I knew my time with you and our daughter had an expiration date. I knew I'd have to leave one day, but I never imagined how hard it would be. I stayed until Charlie came of age because I knew I couldn't leave before she was ready to stand on her own. But even then, leaving her felt like tearing out a piece of my soul.

I chose to leave to protect her, to prevent my presence from triggering her Nephilim form. I believed that the price of my absence was necessary for her safety. But I was wrong. And she transformed anyway.

Since I left, I've lived with constant torment—not knowing how you were doing. I imagined a thousand times what your life was like without me, but I couldn't return, couldn't break the pact. My absence was the price of your safety, and it's a wound I still carry today.

Lucifer, I left you with an enormous burden, and for that, I will never forgive myself. I wonder if you've managed to get through it without me, if you found the strength to stay strong for Charlie. I know I broke you, and there's nothing I can do to fix what I destroyed.

I never stopped loving you. Not for a moment. Every step I took away from you was filled with regret, with the desire to turn back and choose differently. But I couldn't. Not after what I promised. And so, I lived with the emptiness of your absence, knowing I'd never be able to fill it.

I'm not asking for your forgiveness. I don't believe I deserve it. But I want you to know that every choice I made, even the most painful one, was for you. And if there's still a part of you that remembers what we were, what we dreamed of together, please, keep it alive. Not for me, but for Charlie. Because she is proof that our love created something extraordinary.

With all my love,
Lilith

Lucifer finished reading and, for a moment, sat perfectly still. The room felt wrapped in an unreal silence, broken only by the rapid beat of his heart. Then, slowly, his hands began to tremble. His eyes, filled with tears held back for far too long, quickly blurred.

When he finally let go, the sobs overwhelmed him like a flood. These weren't quiet, restrained tears—they were an explosion of repressed emotions: pain, love, relief, regret. Every wall he had built to protect himself from these feelings crumbled, leaving him vulnerable in a way he hadn't felt in centuries.

Clutching the pillow from his bed, he lay down, his tears soaking into the fabric as the weight of all those years spent filling the void with inventions and rubber ducks poured out of him.

Lilith still loved him. It had never been an illusion. She left only to protect Charlie, to save what they both cherished most. And that meant it wasn't truly over between them.

With his face buried in the pillow, Lucifer whispered to himself, between sobs: «Lilith…»

For the first time since she left, he felt a spark of hope—small but burning bright. He didn't know what the future held, but that letter was the first step toward a change he had longed for, for so long.

—

After escorting Emily to the lobby, Adam immediately set out to find her an available room. In a hotel this packed, he knew it would be a challenge, but he hoped luck was on his side. He rifled through drawers, sifted through paperwork, and scanned every hook on the marble wall behind the front desk, where room keys were usually hung. Nothing. Every single room was occupied.

With growing tension etched across his face, he made a few calls to see if any guests were planning to cut their stay short. It wasn't uncommon—some left out of frustration, fear, or simply because they couldn't handle the path to redemption. But tonight, no one seemed eager to pack up.

Adam stared at the empty wall of hooks, as if willing a key to magically materialize before his eyes. He felt drained, frustrated, and the weight of handling everything was pressing down on him like never before. "Even though I'm the father of mankind, I keep making one mistake after another." he thought bitterly.

With a deep sigh, he turned to Emily. His face tried to project calm, though inside, the burden felt almost too heavy to bear. «Well...» he said finally, shrugging with resignation «...looks like you'll be rooming with Cherri or Angel. No other options.»

Emily tilted her head slightly, her gentle smile radiating a natural calm. «That's not a problem,» she replied, with the steady confidence of someone who already had everything under control. Then she added, with a spark of excitement, «I'll get the chance to know them better. Plus, I have something to deliver to Cherri. I'd say it's perfect.»

Adam frowned, intrigued by that statement. «Deliver something? What exactly?» he asked, his tone laced with a mix of suspicion and curiosity.

Emily flashed an enigmatic smile. «Let's just say it's a gift… from a mutual friend.»

Her words left Adam puzzled. He studied her for a moment, trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind that vague answer, but eventually decided not to push. "Better not to ask too many questions" he thought, knowing there were already enough problems to deal with without adding more mysteries to the mix.

«Alright.» he said at last, trying to inject a confidence into his voice that he didn't fully feel. «Let's see who among them has a room with a spare bed… or, at least, enough space so that the whole thing doesn't turn into a circus act.»

Emily chuckled softly, the warm, relaxed sound melting some of the tension in the air. «Don't worry.» she said with a reassuring smile, one that seemed perfectly crafted to put him at ease. «I'm sure we'll figure something out.»

Adam couldn't help but let a bit of her optimism rub off on him. He ran a hand over the back of his neck, a nervous gesture that masked a flicker of temporary relief. «Let's hope so. This hotel's already got enough circus acts without us adding to it.»

Emily nodded and stepped forward, ready to tackle the next part of the evening with her usual serene confidence. Adam, meanwhile, mentally braced himself for the inevitable interaction with two of the Hazbin Hotel's most eccentric residents.

But as he walked beside her, he couldn't shake the nagging question in the back of his mind—what kind of "gift" did Emily really have for Cherri? And, more importantly, why did he feel like it was going to make an already complicated night even worse?

—Hotel Bar

Pushing open the door that separated the bar from the rest of the hotel, Adam held it for Emily to step through first. It was a simple gesture, yet enough to leave the seraph stunned once again. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if she'd ever get used to this new Adam—stripped of arrogance, humble, even respectful. He hardly seemed like the same person she'd once known.

Her thoughts, however, were quickly swept away by the scene around her. The Hazbin Hotel's bar radiated a warm, laid-back atmosphere, bathed in soft lighting that glinted off half-empty glasses and amber-colored liquors. At the round tables, groups of sinners chatted quietly or laughed, sharing knowing glances as they sank into plush seats that looked like they were designed to trap anyone who dared sit down. Tiny chandeliers hung overhead, casting gentle shadows across faces and glossy surfaces.

As soon as she entered, her gaze was drawn immediately to the counter on the left—the beating heart of the room. The marble countertop reflected the glow of the glassware and the neatly arranged bottles of liquor behind Husk, who—as always—seemed to blend into the setting, serving drinks with his usual bored expression.

And there they were, leaning casually against the bar: Angel Dust and Cherri Bomb. Angel, instantly recognizable with his pink-and-white fur, multiple limbs, and that bold, flamboyant attitude, chuckled at something Cherri had just said. Cherri, with her punk rebel vibe and signature cyclopean eye, was shaking a cocktail in one hand while gesturing animatedly with the other.

Emily felt a thrill of excitement ripple through her. At last, she was about to meet the sinner Charlie had once presented to the courts of Heaven as a shining example of redemption. What kind of person would he be? Would she be able to see the change Charlie spoke of so often?

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice the glances being thrown her way by the other patrons in the bar. Some squinted with suspicion, others whispered among themselves. After all, an angel's arrival was hardly an everyday event in Hell—and their wariness was more than justified.

Adam, on the other hand, seemed more tense than usual. His gaze scanned the room cautiously, as if he expected chaos to break out at any moment. For all the changes he had gone through, his instincts as a strategist and commander hadn't dulled—he knew full well that Emily's presence might not be welcomed, and that kept him on edge.

With a natural, almost protective gesture, he placed a hand on her lower back, subtly guiding her toward the bar, where their companions-in-misery were waiting.

Cherri Bomb was the first to spot them. She was sipping her cocktail when she looked up, arching an eyebrow in curiosity. After a moment of hesitation, she nudged Angel Dust with her elbow, gesturing toward the newcomers.

Angel turned with his usual flair, the ice in his glass clinking before he lifted it in a lazy salute. A sarcastic grin curled his lips as he leaned against the bar.

«Hey, Adam.» His voice was smooth, dripping with amused derision. «What brings you here? Looking for a little comfort in our miserable corner of the world?»

Adam sighed, ignoring the jab. He dropped onto one of the stools, arms crossed over his chest.

«We've got a problem.» he announced, cutting straight to the point. His tone was serious, and everyone immediately understood he wasn't there to joke around. «There are no free rooms for Emily. She's going to have to bunk with one of you.»

Angel pulled a dramatic face, clutching his chest like the news had physically wounded him.

«Oh no! I can't possibly ruin my private sanctuary! It's already crowded enough with all my personalities!»

Cherri burst out laughing and gave him a playful shove. «Oh, knock it off, Angel. You've got enough space in your room to host a rugby team.»

Angel huffed theatrically but didn't get the chance to fire back with some raunchy quip because Emily stepped in, her voice calm and her smile peaceful as she raised a hand to get their attention.

«First of all, I'm really happy to finally meet all of you in person.» Her gaze swept over the group before settling on Angel Dust. «Especially you.»

The spider demon raised an eyebrow, surprised by the remark, as Emily gestured toward him with a gentle nod.

«Charlie's told me a lot about you. You're on the right path.» She paused briefly, tilting her head slightly before adding with quiet confidence, «In fact, I'd say you're pretty far along.»

Angel felt his heart skip a beat. He was used to being told he was a mess, a waste of potential, a lost cause. He'd walked through the doors of this stupid hotel with nothing but the intention of finding a safe place to sleep—somewhere away from Valentino. Redemption had never really been on the table. Sure, he liked being here, and yeah, he cared about the people around him more than he'd ever admit… but he'd never believed he had a real shot at changing.

Vaggie still treated him like an irresponsible screw-up. Sir Pentious, who'd arrived after him, had already made it to Heaven. Everyone seemed to have their path laid out, while he felt stuck in his own personal hell.

And yet here was a seraph, telling him he was on the right track.

Something inside him tightened and melted all at once. For a moment, the bar faded away, the background chatter dulled, and the only thing that existed was that sentence—that unexpected recognition shaking the foundations of his self-image.

Breaking free from Valentino. Getting out of Hell. For the first time, those goals felt a little less impossible.

He dropped his gaze to his glass, lazily rolling it between his fingers to buy himself a few seconds, hiding the crack in his usual bravado. Then, after a deep breath, he slipped his mask back into place, flashing a cocky grin.

«Oh, I know, sweetheart. No need to tell me.»

Emily watched him for a moment, as if she could see through the veneer of confidence to something deeper, but she didn't press. Instead, she simply smiled warmly and continued, «In any case, I don't want to be a burden to anyone. A couch or even just a corner to lay out a blanket will do just fine.»

Cherri turned toward her, tilting her head. «You know what? You can crash with me.» Her tone was casual, but there was a flicker of warmth in her eye. «My room's a bit... chaotic, but if you don't mind the mess, there's space for two.»

Emily looked surprised by the offer, but her smile widened. «Really? I wouldn't want to be a burden.»

«A burden? Sweetheart, it's the least I can do!» Cherri slapped the bar with a grin. «And besides, you've gotta tell me how my potential boyfriend is doing. How's he holding up with all those angels? Flirting with anyone else?»

Emily chuckled. «I assure you, he's only thinking about you. And on that note…» She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pink envelope. «…this is for you, from him.» she explained, handing it to her new roommate.

Cherri's face lit up with curiosity, though a slight pout appeared as she took the envelope. «A letter? I may have died in the '80s, but I've kept up with the times, y'know.»

«Oh, he's well aware.» Emily replied with a knowing smirk as Cherri opened the envelope.

A small, steampunk-looking device slipped into Cherri's palm. It wasn't much bigger than a candy, rectangular in shape, with tiny towers that resembled antennas—one of them already spinning, searching for a signal. On one side, a USB-C plug was built in, ready to connect to any modern smartphone.

Emily smiled knowingly as Cherri held the little gadget between her fingers, examining it like a puzzle waiting to be solved.

«Ooh, cute… but what is it?» she asked, puzzled.

Angel, never one to miss an opportunity, leaned in with his trademark sly tone.

«C'mon, Cherri, it's obviously an antenna. Plug that thing into your phone and bam! Infernal magic, angelic power, or whatever the hell it is.» He waved his hands dramatically, mimicking an explosion.

Cherri raised an eyebrow, still skeptical, but her curiosity was piqued. «Okay, but… what do I do with it? It's not exactly the kind of thing I deal with every day…»

Emily chuckled, folding her arms in satisfaction. «That, my dear, is a bridge between two worlds. Sir Pentious—or your potential boyfriend, as you called him—figured out how to make two devices communicate despite the block between Heaven and Hell. It's his gift to you. He wants you two to talk… whenever you need to.»

For a moment, Cherri's expression was pure disbelief. Then, as Emily's words sank in, a genuine, almost tender smile spread across her face. Clutching the device in her hands, she whispered, «So… I can talk to him? Even though he's up there? Without using the Heaven Phone?»

Emily nodded enthusiastically. «Exactly. Just plug it into your phone and call him. He's got an identical device.»

Cherri couldn't hide the joy on her face. It was rare to see her this vulnerable, but in that moment, she looked like a lovestruck teenager. «That damn snake… always got something special up his sleeve.»

Angel, watching the scene unfold, cleared his throat with an ironic grin. «Well, I gotta admit. That's not a bad move. Definitely scored some extra points with that one.»

Cherri turned to him, still clutching the device. «Oh yeah, he scored big time. But if he even thinks about flirting with someone else, I'll find a way to make him pay. Even if he's in Heaven.»

Emily giggled, her tone light and sweet, clearly pleased she'd brought a bit of happiness to her new roommate. «Don't worry, Cherri. He's not thinking about anyone else. You're definitely his one and only obsession.»

Cherri's smile widened, a spark of determination flashing in her eyes as she carefully tucked the device into her jacket pocket. «Good. Then let's show him we know how to surprise him, too.» With a theatrical flourish, she hooked her arm around Emily's and started dragging her toward the hallway. «Come on, we've gotta plan our first call! I want it to be unforgettable.»

Emily laughed softly, letting herself be pulled along by her new friend, her steps light and full of excitement.

Angel watched them go, the amused grin still lingering on his lips. There was something oddly fascinating about how the seraph seemed perfectly at ease, even though she was clearly out of place in a bar full of sinners.

Then he shrugged it off and went back to sipping his cocktail, letting the burn of the alcohol distract him. But his smile faded slightly when he noticed Husk approaching with his usual relaxed gait, a glass steady in his paw.

The old feline leaned against the bar with lazy ease, but his gaze betrayed an insight that went far beyond his apparent indifference.

He tilted slightly toward Angel, lowering his voice for a comment that would hit exactly where it needed to.

«You see that, Legs?» he began, his gruff tone carrying that odd hint of softness only those who knew him well could detect. «You could have something like that, too, if you'd just give it a shot.»

Angel froze. The glass hovered between his fingers as his grin wavered just a fraction. For a brief moment, his cherry-colored eyes flickered with something deeper—an emotion that surfaced before he could shove it back down.

Then he burst into exaggerated laughter, theatrical and loud, like he could laugh away any truth in Husk's words.

«Oh, c'mon, Husker!» he exclaimed with a cheeky grin. «Me and Headshot? We're just friends, you know that.»

Husk didn't look the least bit convinced. With the same calm, he grabbed a rag and started wiping down the bar, his eyes never leaving Angel.

A sly smile tugged at his lips as he replied with disarming ease «When you'll stop lying to yourself, give me a call.»

Angel arched an eyebrow but didn't respond right away. He just twirled the glass between his fingers, as if Husk's words had left a deeper mark than he wanted to admit.

Then, with a dramatic flourish, he tilted his glass toward Husk, letting a few drops of alcohol spill onto the bar in a mock attempt to splash him.

«Oops.» he chirped with a dazzling smile. «Slipped.»

Husk snorted, shaking his head with the faintest hint of a smile. «Idiot.»

Angel shrugged and went back to his drink, but this time, his grin held a subtle hint of uncertainty.

—

Watching Emily walk off safely with Cherri Bomb, Adam slumped against the bar with a long, weary sigh, like the weight of his entire existence had suddenly crashed down on him. His shoulders relaxed slightly, but the tension in his eyes didn't fade.

His gaze drifted aimlessly around the room, lost among the bar's patrons and the dim, flickering lights, but his mind was elsewhere, trapped in a storm of thoughts. He vaguely registered Husk saying something to Angel Dust, followed by a burst of laughter, but the words slid right off him, leaving no impression. He was too consumed by what gnawed at him: he had to confess everything.

The thought of confessing the truth to Charlie burned in his stomach like poison. He'd already put it off too many times, convincing himself he needed to talk to Headshot first, that there were other urgent matters to handle. And yet, the longer he let time pass, the more guilt ate away at him. It wasn't just the shame of having made that damned deal with Alastor that weighed on him, but the terror of what would happen if Charlie found out from someone else. He couldn't let that happen.

Clenching his fists, Adam forced himself to make a decision. "I need to warn Headshot".

The young sniper had a right to know that Alastor understood the Deus Ex Machina better than he could possibly imagine. Adam had to alert him, prepare him… without letting Alastor realize that Headshot was anything but an easy pawn to manipulate. The Radio Demon always thought he was one step ahead, always holding the winning hand. But that blind confidence was exactly what made him vulnerable.

It was time to get ahead of the game.

With a sharp cough to grab attention, Adam turned toward Husk, who was lazily polishing glasses with his usual indifference.

«Hey, Cat…» he started, trying to keep his tone as casual as possible, though his fingers drummed nervously against the bar. «I need to talk to Headshot. Any idea where he is?»

Husk glanced up from the glass, giving Adam a quick once-over in silence. Then he shifted his gaze to the clock hanging above the bar, calculating the time with a thoughtful expression.

«If he's not here…» Husk finally replied, shrugging slightly «…he's either in the security locker room or in his room.»

Adam nodded, doing his best to ignore the tension coiling between his shoulder blades.

«Thanks.» he muttered, pushing himself away from the bar.

He cast one last glance around the bar, as if trying to imprint the normalcy of the moment into his mind before diving into the chaos that was sure to follow. Then, without another second of hesitation, he moved toward his goal.

The next step could change everything. And this time, there was no turning back.

—early evening, Hotel hall

«You heard the dragon, folks! Nothing to see here, move along!» Eddie's voice rang out firm and steady as he raised an arm, signaling the crowd to disperse.

The sinners' wary gazes lingered on the seraph at the center of the lobby for one last moment before they reluctantly scattered. Emily stood frozen, visibly shaken, whispering to Adam, who was trying to reassure her with a calm he clearly didn't feel himself.

Linda sauntered over to Eddie, hands stuffed in her pockets and a thoughtful look in her eyes. «Damn, they looked ready to lynch that seraph. And her… she looks terrified.»

«Da.» Yaga murmured, stepping forward with her usual authoritative composure. Her Russian accent, thicker than usual, gave her words an even graver weight. «Like German in Soviet land, trying to convince soldier he's not enemy.»

Linda shivered. «Jeez, coming from you, that hits different.»

Muto, as silent as ever, pulled out his usual notepad. After scribbling a quick note in his messy handwriting, he held it up for the group to see. Eddie read it aloud: «They're scared. Fear makes people do stupid things.»

Eddie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. «You're right, Muto. Fear's the most dangerous thing we've got down here in Hell. And we've already got enough problems.»

As if to underline his point, a sudden mechanical buzz grabbed their attention. Sprock, riding one of his absurd inventions, zipped overhead on some sort of makeshift jet. The contraption spat out sparks and a deafening noise, sending the few lingering sinners scattering in a fresh wave of panic.

«Exactly.» Eddie muttered, glaring up at Sprock with a look of pure exasperation. He ran a hand down his face and glanced skyward, as if hoping for help he knew wasn't coming.

Tiger stepped forward with a crooked grin, his muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap. «I'll handle this.» he announced confidently, already moving with predator-like grace to intercept the little flying demon.

Linda's gaze followed Emily as she walked away with Adam. The seraph moved stiffly, every step looking like a battle against herself. «You think she'll be okay?» Linda asked Eddie quietly. «She looks like she's about to fall apart.»

Eddie crossed his arms, eyes narrowing slightly as he watched Emily. Despite her obvious fragility, there was something in her gaze—a fire, a stubborn determination—that struck him. She looked like she was balancing on the thinnest wire imaginable but refused to fall.

«I don't know.» he admitted finally, his voice low and thoughtful. «But she's tough. She has to be, to survive down here. Let's hope it's enough.»

An explosive shout shattered their moment of contemplation. «FUCKING , SPROCK!» Tiger roared, leaping across the lobby in a desperate attempt to grab the flying menace. Sprock, far from any intention of stopping, continued to zoom around, cheerfully humming like he was the grand marshal of a victory parade. His jet sputtered and screeched, leaving a trail of sparks and chaos in its wake.

Tiger growled, visibly fuming. «TURN THAT DAMN THING OFF BEFORE I TURN YOU OFF!» he bellowed, launching himself into another wild jump to snatch Sprock mid-air.

Eddie covered his face with one hand, shaking his head slowly. «Why does it always end up like this?» he muttered, the tone of someone who had long accepted the absurdity of his squad.

Behind him, Linda struggled to suppress her laughter, while Muto, ever the calm in the storm, began scribbling something else on his notepad. When he held up the page, Eddie read the message and couldn't help but let out a bitter chuckle: "Hell is chaos. We are chaos."

«Couldn't have said it better myself, Muto.» Eddie replied, a wry edge in his voice.

Meanwhile, Tiger let out another frustrated roar as Sprock slipped through his grasp yet again. «I SWEAR IF I CATCH YOU, I'LL TAKE YOU APART PIECE BY PIECE!»

Linda finally burst out laughing, unable to hold it in any longer. Eddie sighed once more, watching the circus unfold before him. «One day…» he murmured to himself, «…we'll have a normal night. But not today.»

And with that thought, he prepared to face the umpteenth absurdity of Hell.

—

Eddie retreated to his room, utterly exhausted, weighed down by a day that seemed like it would never end. After finally wrangling Sprock—a task that had drained what little patience he had left—he'd carefully stored his weapons in the locker room, locking them away with his usual meticulousness. Then, at last, he'd made his way to his room.

The moment he closed the door behind him, the suffocating silence seemed to amplify his exhaustion. As he collapsed onto the mattress, head in his hands, he felt his body give in to a weariness that wasn't just physical.

He'd wanted to end the night differently. With his friends. With Bruce. With his sister.

With Angel.

That last thought slipped into his mind like a whisper, quiet but relentless, until it was impossible to ignore. He rubbed his temples, as if the motion could soothe the chaos bubbling inside him.

Angel…

That stupid spider had crawled into his head and refused to leave. Frustrated, he lit a cigarette, letting the first drag fill his lungs with fleeting relief. He'd quit ages ago, but… then Angel happened.

"Damn it."

He moved to the edge of the bed, careful not to spill any hot ash on the sheets. He was back where he started.

He took another deep drag, watching the smoke dissipate into the air as he tried once more to impose rational boundaries on himself. "Angel is just a friend." He kept telling himself that, like a tired, worn-out mantra.

He even tried to list his flaws, as he had countless times.
"Brash. Provocative. A hopeless troublemaker."
He had had more lovers than Eddie could count—and many of them had been clients. Clients.

"And since when do I care about that?"

The thought hit him suddenly, as if it had come from outside. In life, he would have said it was Loki whispering in his ear, but now he knew the voice belonged only to his own conscience.
Like an avalanche, Angel's assets filled with a disarming force, sweeping away any attempt at rationality.
Brilliant. Full of life. Kind, in his own way. Charismatic. Incredibly resilient. And incredibly handsome.

And then there was the part Eddie couldn't ignore, the one that haunted him more than anything else: that scent of sadness clinging to Angel, even when he laughed.

The resignation behind his cocky smiles.

The simmering, gut-deep rage that seeped out whenever he talked about Valentino.

Eddie had felt it every single time. And the more he thought about it, the stronger his desire to save him grew, burning inside like a fire he couldn't put out.

His rational side tried to fight back, pulling him into line. "It's your hero complex", that voice reminded him. "Your trauma. Your need to protect others. Your own damn desire to be saved."

But then the other part of him—the instinctive, stubborn part—pushed back just as hard. It reminded him of all the hours they'd spent laughing and joking at the bar. That afternoon shopping trip when, for the first time, Eddie had felt light. The moment Angel had made him glow.

He saw it again, like a movie playing in his mind, one he couldn't switch off.

The tension that had thrummed through his body when Angel coaxed him out of the dressing room. That mischievous smile. The quickened beat of his own heart.

And then, there was the pendant.

He lowered his gaze to his chest and gently pulled out the chain hidden beneath his shirt. The silver metal caught the light, reflecting a faint bluish glow. The pendant—a Viking shield etched with patterns resembling wood grain—had a small, stylized Mjolnir engraved at its center.

Angel had chosen it. But it wasn't just an accessory. It was a symbol.

Angel had seen him. Really seen him. Not just as another demon, not just as a teammate, but as something more.

Something Eddie still couldn't define.

He ran his thumb over the pendant, replaying in his mind the moment Angel had fastened it around his neck. He remembered the vulnerability he'd felt then, that sensation of being exposed. But also the strange, unexpected sense of security that had washed over him.

No one had ever chosen something for him with that kind of care.

"It's perfect for the Hotel's Shield. And it connects you to your roots." Angel had said.

Those words had warmed his heart more than he was ready to admit.

And that's when it happened—the glow.

In the mirror, he'd seen the blue light illuminating his veins, a calm, powerful current just beneath his skin. As if his body already knew something his mind refused to understand.

He let himself fall back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The pendant, cool against his chest, seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat.

He'd never fully understood that glow, but it had never been as strong as it was that day.

And as the memory tangled with the present, he wondered if Angel was the cause.

If he was the one breaking down his walls, drawing out that light. Making him feel something he'd never felt before.

The thought hit him like a punch. He ran a hand across his forehead, closing his eyes and trying to steady his breathing.

No. He couldn't allow this.

Not in a place like Hell. Not with Valentino looming over Angel like a shadow.

And yet, despite all his efforts to suppress these feelings, his heart kept beating faster.

Clutching the pendant between his fingers, Eddie took a deep breath. He wasn't ready to name whatever this was, and maybe he never would be. But for the first time, he didn't try to bury it.

Maybe—just maybe—that light had a purpose.

And maybe, just maybe, it was worth finding out.

A faint blue glow illuminated the room. At first, he thought it was a trick of the light, a reflection from the lamp off the pendant's metal. But when he lowered his gaze to his hands, he saw the truth: his veins were glowing. The Deus Ex Machina vibrated gently, pulsing in perfect sync with his heart. Eddie sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.

It was undeniable. Next to Angel… he felt good.

He wasn't ready to label what he felt, but for the first time, he didn't try to push it away. He let it linger, filling the room alongside its calm, enveloping light.

Like a deep breath after too long underwater. And as he watched the cigarette smoke curl towards the ceiling, he finally let himself relax.

Loud knocks on the door made Eddie almost jump.

The glow on his hands vanished instantly, as if his body had sensed the urgency before his mind caught up. Now, only the dim light of the bedside lamp illuminated the room, casting long shadows along the walls.

Eddie sharpened his senses, pausing for a moment before responding. His antennae picked up the sharp, acrid scent of anxiety and fear.

It hit him like a cold draft seeping under the door. Whoever was on the other side wasn't threatening him—they wanted him to open up, and fast.

For a fleeting second, his mind wandered. "What if it was Angel?" What if he was standing there with that fake offended pout, arms crossed, eyes glinting with that cocky defiance, ready to scold Eddie for leaving him alone? He pictured Angel leaning against the doorframe, his mismatched eyes glowing in the dark, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he fired off some irreverent quip—something that would make Eddie's heart race.

The thought shook him more than it should have. He gave his head a sharp shake, banishing the illusion.

"It's not Angel." Not at this hour. Not with that scent of unease lingering in the air.

«I'm coming!» he called out, stubbing out his cigarette and quickly tucking the pendant back under his shirt.

With long, purposeful strides, he reached the door, placing his hand on the handle. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and slowly lowered the latch, ready to face whatever—or whoever—was waiting on the other side.

Eddie found himself face-to-face with Adam, and for a brief moment, surprise flickered across his features. The First Man didn't look like his usual cocky, overconfident self, always trying to wedge his way into the group. No, tonight he was different. His body betrayed a restless energy—one leg bouncing nervously, fingers twitching as if searching for something to hold onto, like he was drowning and grasping for a lifeline that wasn't there.

Eddie crossed his arms, studying him for a beat before fully opening the door.

«Adam? What's going on? Why are you at my door at this hour?»

Adam lifted his gaze, trying to muster a smile, but it lacked any conviction.

«Hey, Headshot,» he greeted, his voice far less sure than usual. «Sorry to bother you, but… this is urgent. REALLY urgent.»

He paused, then gestured toward Eddie's arm.

«It's about Alastor… and … that.»

Eddie followed the motion of Adam's hand, his eyes dropping to the Deus Ex Machina on his wrist. Then he looked back at Adam, then again at the bracelet. If whatever was happening involved both the Radio Demon and that mysterious artifact, it wasn't just urgent.

It was serious.

«Alright,» Eddie muttered, stepping aside. «Come in. I'll pull up the desk chair.»

—

Sitting stiffly on the wooden chair, Adam found himself face-to-face with Eddie.

He had spilled everything.

The crushing sense of failure after Lucifer's wrath. The desperate desire to feel like part of the group. The need to find a shortcut, to prove his worth quickly. How Alastor had sunk his claws into Adam's insecurities—subtle, hypnotic, the perfect tempter he had always been. The deal.

And, most of all, the moment when, backed into a corner, Adam had betrayed everyone, revealing to the Radio Demon everything he knew about the Deus Ex Machina.

Adam braced for an immediate explosion—a yell, maybe even a punch to the face.

But Eddie said nothing.

His face was a mask of stone. Indecipherable. Cold.

Not even with his newfound "gift" could Adam read him. It was like staring at a brick wall.

The silence stretched, each second feeling like an eternity, until Adam finally let out a small, uneasy breath and tried to break the tension.

«Look, I know I made a mistake, but—»

Eddie cut him off, his voice chilling in its calm.

«Mistake?» he repeated, his tone smooth as a freshly honed blade. «Oh no. What you did isn't just a mistake.» He spat the last word out, dripping with venomous sarcasm. «It's a colossal mess. Hell, let's call it what it is—a betrayal. Of the group. Of Charlie.»

A shiver ran down Adam's spine.

Eddie rose from the bed with deliberate, measured movements, but each step toward Adam seemed to make the room itself tremble. He was massive—not just in height, but in the way his rage seemed to fill the space, making him loom. The faint blue glow of his veins pulsed under his skin, like distant thunder rumbling just beneath the surface, ready to explode.

«You've put this entire damn hotel in danger!» Eddie roared, his voice rising like an unstoppable crescendo. «And not just the hotel.» His tone darkened further, turning lethal. «You put me in danger. You put my sister in danger.»

Eddie's chest heaved with rapid, furious breaths. He wasn't just angry—he was terrified. For Molly. For what Adam had just revealed.

Because now Alastor knew.

He knew Eddie couldn't control the Deus Ex Machina. He knew it wasn't Eddie who decided when or how it activated. And that meant Alastor could come for it. For him.

Terrified by Eddie's fury, Adam pressed himself back into the chair, trying to make himself smaller.

«The only thing keeping Alastor at bay was the idea that I could control the Deus Ex Machina! And now…» Eddie's voice broke with raw intensity. «Now he knows I can't!»

Adam tried to get a word in, forcing himself to stay composed.

«Technically, the Deus Ex Machina can't be controlled, so—»

«TECHNICALLY, I SHOULD KICK YOUR ASS STRAIGHT INTO DOUBLE HELL!» Eddie bellowed, miming a choking gesture in Adam's direction.

Adam leaned back further, hands raised in a placating gesture, but his mind raced. He couldn't let Eddie's rage spiral out of control—he needed to give him something, anything, now.

Drawing in a shaky breath, he forced his voice to steady, mimicking a calm he didn't feel.

«Or…» he said, carefully «I could finally tell you how to unlock its full potential.»

Eddie froze mid-step.

Adam swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest like a war drum.

«I know how to do it,» he finished, his voice dropping lower, heavier.

Eddie's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. For the first time since Adam walked through that door, there was a flicker of hope.

A chance.

Eddie stared at him for a long, tense moment, his breathing just a little heavier, fists clenched at his sides. His eyes glinted with silent fury, the muscles in his shoulders taut like coiled springs.

Was this a trap? A pathetic excuse? Or worse—was it really the only way to fix this mess?

Eddie inhaled deeply, forcing himself to calm down. Losing control wouldn't solve anything. He didn't want to explode again.

With a low, tense voice, he sat slowly on the edge of the bed, his gaze never leaving Adam.

«Talk.»

Adam nodded, swallowing hard. He knew Eddie would glare at him through the entire conversation, but he was already in too deep. Better to face it head-on.

«The Deus Ex Machina isn't a weapon.» he began, choosing his words carefully. «It can't be controlled, and anyone who's tried has ended up badly. It's literally a piece of Elohim. Michael lent it to me when I descended during the last purge…»

«Michael?» Eddie interrupted, his brow furrowed. «The archangel Michael?»

Adam nodded. «That's the one. I don't know exactly why, but he lent it to me. He explained what it was and how it worked. It has a will of its own and decides who can carry it, for how long, and when to intervene. However, there's a way to gain its cooperation. If you meet all the necessary conditions, its power will fully activate and allow you to achieve anything—as long as you truly desire it.»

Eddie leaned forward on his forearms, shoulders slightly tense with stress. «And what are these conditions?»

Adam took a deep breath. «The Deus Ex Machina responds to seven principles.» He started counting them off on his fingers, enunciating each word precisely. «Be authentic. Be humble. Be selfless. Love others. Forgive those who hurt you the most. Place your complete trust in the Deus Ex Machina. And finally, ask.»

Eddie blinked. Ironically, he'd already met some of these conditions almost by accident, just by being himself.

Be authentic? He'd done that, and it had allowed him to activate an angelic sigil.

Be humble? He wasn't exactly arrogant. Most of the time.

Be selfless? He'd taken a kid off the streets and protected her like his own sister.

Love others? Molly, Charlie, Vaggie, Cherri, Husk… Angel…

But trusting the Deus Ex Machina? Asking? And, above all, forgiving?

His stomach knotted.

Forgive those who hurt you the most. He wasn't ready for that. Not yet.

He decided to sidestep the issue for now. «Ask… for what?» he asked, his jaw tightening.

Adam shrugged. «Whatever you need. But you have to truly want it.»

Eddie ran a hand over the back of his neck, biting the inside of his cheek. The information was important, sure. Crucial, even. But it didn't change the fact that Adam had blown everything with Alastor. «That explains how to activate it.» he finally said, his tone more measured, controlled. «But it doesn't explain how we're supposed to avoid getting dragged into Alastor's mess. At this point, it's only a matter of time before he makes a move.»

Adam closed his eyes for a moment, running a tense hand through his hair.

«I know.» His voice was low, almost a whisper. «And that's why I'm trying to fix it.»

Eddie took a deep breath and brought his hands to his face, covering his nose and mouth as he tried to sort through his thoughts. The longer they waited, the worse things would get; Charlie had to know. There was no other way.

Eddie shot up from the bed, his voice firm. «First thing we need to do...» he started, «...is tell Charlie.»

«NO!»

Adam's reaction was immediate, almost instinctive. Too sharp not to be suspicious.

Eddie's gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing into slits of frustration and suspicion.

Adam quickly tried to compose himself, raising his hands in a calming gesture. «I mean... not yet,» he amended, trying to control his tone, though it was clear he was stalling. «I want to be the one to tell her. But right now... I just can't.»

Eddie didn't respond, his arms crossing over his chest, waiting for a valid explanation.

Adam swallowed hard and continued. «She asked me to help with her Nephilim training. If she finds out about this now, she'll be left without a guide.»

There was a nearly pleading note in his voice. No matter how strong he was, no matter how much he tried to maintain control, Adam feared losing Charlie's trust.

Eddie knew that. And he understood. But that didn't mean he liked it.

The silence between them stretched, thick with tension.

Adam hoped—prayed—that his newfound persuasion skills would work on Eddie too. But he knew exactly how he'd obtained them, and the thought made him sick.

After what felt like an eternity, Eddie sighed, closing his eyes for a moment as if trying to make sense of all the chaos. When he finally spoke, his voice was low but resolute. «Fine.» he said, pausing briefly before opening his eyes, fixing Adam with a cold stare. «But it has to be as soon as possible.»

Adam nodded, visibly relieved. «I'll fix this, and then I'll tell her.» he promised, clearing his throat to give his words more weight. «Promise.»

Eddie didn't look convinced. «That's assuming Alastor doesn't make a move first.» His tone dripped with disdain. The idea that Alastor already knew about the Deus Ex Machina disgusted him, but what infuriated him most was that Adam had put them in this situation.

«He won't.» Adam shook his head, his voice confident. «Thanks to our exchange, I have a decent idea of how he thinks. He won't make any reckless moves unless he's cornered. So... just don't let him know you know that he knows. Please.»

Eddie shot him a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow. It was strange. Almost man who for years had led the exorcists during the Exterminations, forcing him to hide like prey once a year, was now here, in front of him, asking for his help. He found it ironic. Annoying, even.

Turning away, he sneered: «Funny how, until last year, I had to hide from you one day a year.» His voice was laced with venom but also a hint of incredulous acknowledgment. «Maybe people really do change.»

Adam didn't reply. He didn't need to. Deep down, he knew Headshot was right: he wasn't the arrogant bastard who led the exorcists, convinced he could cleanse Hell by wiping out as many sinners as possible. That man belonged to a past that now felt distant and senseless.

Now he was just a man broken by his own guilt, desperately trying to make amends. And he didn't know what to think of himself anymore; he just wanted to fix things.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted when Eddie spoke again, dragging him back to reality. «When's this training supposed to start?»

Adam hesitated for a moment before answering. «Tomorrow morning. Six o'clock.»

Eddie raised an eyebrow, though Adam didn't see it. «My team and I are usually there at the same time.»

«I know.» Adam nodded. «It was Charlie's idea. She's hoping to get your help too.»

Those words hit Eddie harder than he wanted to admit. His wings, folded in the hollows of his back, gave a slight, involuntary twitch—whether from pride or expectation, he wasn't sure.

Charlie wanted his help. For a moment, he felt honored.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but his voice remained impassive.

«Good then.» he stretched slightly. «Go get some sleep.»

Adam watched him for a moment, then nodded seriously. «Of course.»

He hesitated, as if wanting to add something more, but held back. «See you tomorrow morning.»

With those words, he quietly exited the room, closing the door behind him.

Eddie remained still for a moment, then let himself fall back onto the bed, feeling even more exhausted than before.

With all the problems he already had, now he had another one piled on top.

He covered his face with his hands, exasperated. "Fantastic!"

—Next morning, Hazbin Hotel gym

Eddie pounded the punching bag with a violence that rarely belonged to him. Each punch sank into the rough canvas with a dull thud, sending the heavy, stuffed shape swinging back and forth. The rhythm was relentless, furious.

He hadn't slept a wink.

Adam's words had burrowed deep into his mind all night, keeping him awake as he worked through plan after plan to keep Alastor away from him and his sister. Why Molly, of all people? The Radio Demon had threatened him more than once, always with that syrupy smile and that almost playful tone. But the message had been clear: he could hurt her.

But why?

Was he still holding a grudge over their confrontation? Still bitter about almost being killed? Or… were there other reasons?

Eddie had no answers.

He clenched his jaw and drove his fist harder into the bag, making it shudder from the impact.

The others watched him in silence, exchanging uneasy glances. They'd never seen him this angry.

Sprock, still feeling guilty about causing trouble the night before, even tried to hide behind Muto. But Muto, with his usual slow, deliberate movements, stepped aside as if to say, "Not my problem if the boss is pissed at you."

Yaga, though not the oldest, was definitely the wisest of the group. She decided to step in.

She waited until Eddie let go of the bag, resting his forehead against it for a moment, his breath still heavy from the effort. Then, with her usual blunt tone, she spoke: «Something eating you up, big boss? You're hitting harder than a Nazi on the run.»

Eddie gave a half-smile. Yaga was still stuck in World War II.

He took a breath, lifted his head, and met her gaze. «It's nothing. Rough night, as usual.»

It wasn't entirely a lie. But it wasn't the whole truth either.

Yaga didn't look convinced.

She fixed him with that 'stern Russian matriarch' stare, arms crossed, expression severe. «Boss, you can't keep dreaming about your father torturing you. It's not good for you.» Her voice was firm but not harsh. «It's time to leave the past behind. Stop letting it shape your present.»

A shiver of irritation ran through Eddie.

His gaze hardened.

«It's a little hard not to let it shape me...» his voice dropped an octave, tense like a string on the verge of snapping, «...when I've got THESE.»

With a sharp gesture, he yanked up his shirt.

Silence.

His scars, deep and etched into his skin like permanent brands, were still there. They always would be.

Yaga kept a mask of impassivity, but the others looked away. It wasn't the first time they'd seen them, but getting used to them was another matter.

Eddie didn't stop. «You guys were lucky.» His voice was thick with bitterness. «You didn't bring anything from Earth with you, just some memories. I took my own life just to stop seeing these. And surprise...» he let the shirt fall back down with a harsh tug «...they were still there. So forgive me if I find it hard to forget.»

Then he turned to Yaga, a sharp smile on his lips. «And anyway... you're always talking about your time in the war.»

If he thought he could put her on the spot, he was dead wrong. Yaga crossed her arms and lifted her chin proudly.

«True.» she admitted easily, no excuses. «I talk about the old days. But I don't dream about the battles I fought. I don't chase them, and I don't let them define me. The war bent me, but it didn't break me.»

She took a brief breath, her eyes drifting to a distant point, as if she could still see the night sky streaked with fire and metal. Her shadow behind her shifted shape, visually echoing her memories.

«What happened to you was terrible, boss, no one denies that. But just as terrible was watching my navigator burn alive while I tried to land a plane that wouldn't respond. Hearing her screams drown out the sirens. Gripping the controls with my hands covered in her blood, knowing there was nothing I could do.»

She paused, her voice low but steady, carrying a weight she didn't try to lighten.

«It hurt. A lot. But I walked back to base on my own two feet and filed my report, because there wasn't even time to mourn the dead. Because if I had stopped, I would have betrayed not just her, but all the others still flying, still fighting.»

She tapped her temple with a finger, a brief, meaningful gesture.

«I don't have scars on my body, boss... but I've got plenty up here. And they'll always be there.»

Her words hit Eddie like a punch to the gut. He dropped his gaze, feeling a sudden wave of guilt. He wasn't the only sinner suffering in Hell.

They didn't deserve his anger, didn't deserve the weight of his frustration. He ran a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Then, in a low mutter, he let out an apology barely loud enough to hear.

Yaga gave a sly smile. «Apology accepted.» she replied with her usual casual tone.

Eddie shook his head, a bitter half-smile tugging at his lips. He went back to hitting the punching bag, this time with less rage.

But Yaga's words kept echoing inside him.

Forgive the one who hurt you the most. Another condition required by the Deus Ex Machina.

He'd lost his temper over nothing.

And if he couldn't even control his frustration with his own people… would he ever be able to forgive the person who gave him those scars?

Before he could sink deeper into his thoughts, the gym door burst open with a sudden, jarring bang.

Eddie looked up, his brow still slightly furrowed—and froze at the sight in front of him.

Charlie had entered the room with an energy that was completely out of place for this early in the morning. She was dressed in what Angel would definitely call a crime against fashion: a hot pink full-body jumpsuit with a neon yellow leotard over it. Purple leg warmers hugged both her arms and legs, and a matching headband clung to her forehead like a hideous relic from the '80s.

She clapped her hands, beaming like she'd just stepped onto a stage, hyping up an imaginary crowd with uncontainable joy.

Behind her, dragging his feet like a man headed for the gallows, was Adam.

If Charlie was the embodiment of morning enthusiasm, Adam was its polar opposite. With bags under his eyes big enough to qualify as luxury luggage, a tiny blue book tucked under one arm, and a coffee cup clenched in the other hand, he looked like he was physically suffering with every passing second.

It was glaringly obvious that the First Man wasn't used to waking up this early.

Eddie blinked, then ran a hand down his face, as if the gesture could somehow wipe away the chromatic horror in front of him.

Charlie, meanwhile, was a ball of pure energy. She clapped her hands enthusiastically and turned to Adam, trying to pump him up.

«Come on, Adam! Cheer up! I've got so much to learn!»

Adam, barely able to keep his eyes open, let out a long, guttural groan, clutching his coffee like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

Charlie waved him off with ease and turned toward the other side of the gym, where Eddie's security team was watching with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

«Hey, Headshot!» she called out brightly, bouncing and waving her arm with way too much energy. «Good thing you're here, I've got a huge favor to ask!»

«Ugh, more responsibilities.» Tiger snorted, flashing a grin. «I don't envy you one bit, boss.»

Eddie sighed, watching the princess approach with determined steps. «The glamorous life of the Hotel's Shield.» he muttered, resigned.

As Charlie came closer, Eddie immediately picked up on a swirl of overlapping scents. The unmistakable cotton candy sweetness that clung to her, light but distinct. Beneath that, excitement, anticipation, a hint of anxiety… and something darker. A quiet sadness, hidden beneath layers of enthusiasm, like this new activity was more than just self-improvement—it was a distraction from something else.

He was trying to figure out the source of it when Charlie caught him off guard, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug.

She barely reached his chest, but that didn't stop her from pouring every ounce of affection into the gesture. Eddie stiffened for a moment, not used to such spontaneous displays, but then relaxed just a fraction, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Charlie looked up at him, her eyes gleaming, and started talking at lightning speed, like a runaway train.

«Emily brought me the documents I needed to understand how to manage my Nephilim form! Or rather, forms, because apparently, I've got more than one! Adam can help me with the control part, teaching me how to summon the right form, but there's also a physical aspect and—» She paused just long enough to inhale before launching back in without missing a beat. «And that's where you come in! Sure, Adam trained exorcists, but you were part of a Guild! If you handle the physical side, he can focus on the emotional part! What do you say, Shield? Want to help me?!»

Eddie stared at her for a few seconds, unsure of how to respond.

She reminded him of his sister. Bubbly, optimistic, even a little naïve at times… but with a deep pain buried beneath layers of sweetness.

He took a slow breath, closing his eyes for a moment. His big brother instinct flared up before he could even stop it.

"It's incredible this woman's the daughter of Lucifer and Lilith" he thought, before answering.

«Alright,» he sighed, crossing his arms. «But you'll train with my guards. I can't do it all on my own.»

Charlie's eyes went wide, and she squealed in delight. «OH, THANK YOUUU!» She shouted so loud it probably echoed all the way to the reception desk. Then she hugged him even tighter, inadvertently pressing her face against his shirt… and froze.

The heat. The humidity. The smell of sweat. She recoiled instantly, pulling back with a look of pure disgust. «Eww!» she squealed, flailing her hands like she could shake off the sensation.

Eddie raised an eyebrow, amused. «Welcome to the magical world of the gym, princess.»

—Library

Eddie wasn't the only one who hadn't slept all night.

Molly had been so absorbed in her blog that she hadn't even noticed the hours slipping by.

It wasn't just the "DustShot" section that needed updating—though, obviously, that was one of her top priorities. There were tons of rumors to sift through, new guests to profile, and potential couples to analyze… and she had to do it all on her own.

Sitting in front of the glowing computer screen in the Hotel's library, her red-rimmed eyes betrayed the exhaustion piling up. The artificial light had helped her stay awake through the night, but now that dawn was creeping in, keeping her eyes open was becoming a real challenge.

Even Bruce—her brother's old mentor and now her unofficial guardian—had finally succumbed to fatigue. He was fast asleep, his head resting on the nearby table. His rigid posture and steady breathing suggested he was only half asleep, ready to snap awake at the slightest suspicious sound.

Molly stretched a little, gazing at the fruits of her labor with a sense of pride.

Redemption Road.

That's what she'd named her blog.

A simple, clear name, easy to find for anyone genuinely looking to change… but anonymous enough not to attract unwanted attention. The last thing she needed was for Velvette—the undisputed queen of Infernal social media—to stumble upon her little creation and decide to wreck it just for fun.

Writing, documenting, telling the stories of the Hotel and its guests… it was her way of contributing to the redemption project.

She wanted the blog to show the outside world that the Hazbin wasn't just some bizarre initiative dreamt up by an idealistic princess. It was a place where redemption was possible. A place worth trying for.

And if that meant flooding the site with ridiculous columns, gossip about potential couples, and detailed accounts of the guests' daily lives—then so be it.

She ran a hand through her hair, satisfied.

Despite her young age, she'd taken on a massive responsibility, yet she didn't really feel the weight of it. It was nothing compared to the life she'd had before. Writing was infinitely easier than working on a cocoa plantation.

She spent nearly every hour of her day making the blog interesting, user-friendly, and always up-to-date. And it was turning into a little gem. She had a knack for both computers and writing, and that made her proud.

It felt almost absurd to think that not long ago, she'd struggled even to write by hand. Now, her fingers flew across the keyboard like she'd been born to do it.

Sure, the blog wasn't complete yet, but it already had most of what you'd expect from a platform like this.

There were practical articles like "Ten Things to Know Before Entering the Hazbin Hotel", in-depth features like "The Hotel's Guests and Their Stories", and totally pointless but hilarious sections like "Potential Couples" or "Hotel Fashion Trends."

And the best part? She'd done almost all of it by herself.

Sometimes, Molly fantasized about becoming like Velvette. Not in the sense of being a ruthless, social media monopolizer, of course. But she did like the idea of being just as influential, just as skilled in her field… without buying people off or exploiting subordinates the way Velvette did.

Molly had a dream: to become the best vlogger in all of Hell. Actually, scratch that—the best vlogger in Hell and Heaven.

Of course, she knew it wouldn't be easy. All the major social platforms were controlled either by an Archdemon or Velvette herself. The idea of carving out a space in that world seemed almost impossible.

Almost.

She yawned. It was definitely time to take a break.

But before shutting everything down, she quickly scrolled through her saved files and paused on a video she'd recorded the day before.

She clicked it open.

Two familiar figures appeared on the screen: Angel Dust and her brother.

They interacted the way they always did—that mix of teasing, challenging glances, half-hidden smiles, and that way of being around each other that anyone could see for what it was...

Except for them.

Molly ran both hands through her hair, exasperated. It was so obvious they liked each other.

It was right there, in plain sight. In the looks they exchanged when they thought no one was watching. In the small acts of care they did for one another without even realizing it.

Why were they being so dense? What was holding them back? What the hell were they waiting for?

«Why don't they just kiss already?! The tension is so obvious!» she blurted out, huffing.

Her voice echoed through the quiet library, momentarily drowning out the soft snoring from Bruce beside her.

That's when she noticed something strange.

A shadow moved beside her—fluid, unexpected.

A second later, a hand with long, crimson claws rested lightly on the table, just brushing the edge of her keyboard.

Then, a distorted voice, buzzing with static like an old, badly-tuned radio, purred with a syrupy tone: «What interesting subjects...»

Molly jolted, her heart leaping into her throat.

She spun around, ready to defend herself or, at the very least, scream loud enough to wake Bruce.

But when she saw who was standing beside her, the tension melted into a strange mix of relief and suspicion.

It was Alastor. Her friend.

Molly, still too naïve to understand just how dangerous that man really was, let out a sigh of relief and slumped back in her chair.

«Alastor! You scared me.» She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to slow her racing heartbeat. «You really should announce yourself before popping up out of nowhere.»

Alastor chuckled, tilting his head with his usual exaggerated grin. «Kitty, darling, you should know by now… how discreet I am.» His crimson eyes gleamed with amusement, his playful tone oozing between his words like poisoned honey.

«But I didn't mean to frighten you.» He continued with his usual theatrical flair, waving a hand casually. «I just stopped by looking for something to read after breakfast, but—» his eyes drifted with feigned surprise to the computer screen, «—I couldn't help but notice my favorite little reporter!» With a broader grin, he pinched her cheek gently, the gesture surprisingly affectionate… but laced with an unsettling sense of control. «So I thought I'd stop and say hello…» his voice softened, but the intensity in his gaze didn't waver. «And I just happened to catch a glimpse of this fascinating footage.»

Molly watched him, her expression a mix of suspicion and curiosity.

Alastor had never shown any interest in technology. He hated anything modern and digital, preferring more traditional means for his communications and entertainment.

And yet, now, his pinprick pupils were glued to the screen, and his smile seemed even sharper than usual.

«You know…» he added, not tearing his gaze away, «…I usually despise these… technological contraptions.» His voice dropped a note, thick with some undefinable undertone.

Then, without missing a beat, Alastor's smile widened as he purred, «However… these images tell a truth that is quite… intriguing.»

Molly didn't catch the dark edge in his tone, too wrapped up in her own excitement to pick up on the more sinister nuances. So, without a second thought, she launched into a flurry of words.

«Right?! They're so cute together!» she exclaimed, gesturing animatedly. «I caught them smoking together on the balcony the other night. They're constantly tossing jabs at each other, but neither of them wants to make the first move! It's so frustrating!»

She slumped back in her chair, letting out an exaggerated sigh.

«Sometimes I just wanna grab their heads, smash them together, and say, 'Now kiss!' They're terrible!»

Alastor stroked his chin thoughtfully, his grin stretching just a fraction wider. There was something sharp in the way his expression shifted—an unsettling note of interest that Molly, in all her innocence, completely missed.

«So… your brother has a little thing for my effeminate fellow.»

Molly barely stifled a laugh, covering her mouth with one hand. «A little thing? HA!» She shook her head, amused. «It's way more than a little thing. My brother adores him! He just won't admit it—to anyone, including himself.» She rested her elbows on the table, fingers laced under her chin, eyes flicking back to the video still playing. «Whenever I mention DustShot, he glares at me like he wants to incinerate me on the spot…»

Alastor froze for a heartbeat, his grin twitching into the faintest flicker of confusion.

«You mention what, now?» he asked, his tone polite but laced with curiosity.

Molly blinked, surprised by his reaction.

«Uh… it's the ship name I made for them.» she replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. «They're Angel Dust and Headshot, so… DustShot!»

The Radio Demon tilted his head slightly, like a predator watching its prey with renewed curiosity.

«Do enlighten me, dear…» he said, his voice dripping with its usual theatrical charm. «What do you mean when you "ship"?»

Molly giggled softly, realizing only then that the concept might be completely foreign to Alastor. «Ah, right, sorry… you died way before it became a thing.» She cleared her throat, explaining with the patience of a teacher. «It's short for relationship. You use it when you think two people—real or fictional—would make a cute couple.» She waved a hand dismissively, like it was no big deal and definitely not a romantic theory involving her brother and Angel Dust. «And I, well… I've been shipping them since…» She paused for a moment, then snapped her fingers. «I dunno, since we cleaned up the Hotel after Charlie's meltdown? Around then.»

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and let out a dreamy little laugh. «It started as a joke, but then I saw my brother glowing...»

Those last words triggered a subtle change in Alastor's demeanor. His body stiffened for a split second.

Molly didn't notice, but his crimson eyes narrowed with a deeper, more calculated interest, like he'd just uncovered a detail worth dissecting.

«Your brother… glows, dear?»

Molly nodded enthusiastically, oblivious to the way Alastor's voice had dropped just a shade lower.

«Yes!» she chirped, her tone as light as ever, unaware of the weight behind her words. «When he's got a lot of adrenaline pumping. Anger, fear… and now, infatuation!» She sighed dreamily. «You should see it—it's adorable!»

Alastor remained silent for a long, lingering moment. Then, slowly, that grin slithered back onto his lips. Wider. Sharper. Amused in a way that felt just a bit too delighted.

«Oh…» Alastor breathed, his voice curling with a musical lilt. His grin spread even further, revealing more fangs than necessary. «What a fascinating revelation…»

Molly nodded along eagerly, completely unaware of the subtle, sinister satisfaction threading through the demon's tone.

«Funny you haven't noticed it,» she commented offhandedly, crossing her arms and rocking slightly in her chair. «I think everyone's caught on by now. But, you know, I guess you're just super busy and all—that's why it slipped by you.»

She cast a casual glance back at the screen, where the video of Angel and Eddie continued to play. Lingering glances. Snarky jabs. A tension so thick it practically bled through the monitor. For anyone who knew where to look, it screamed the obvious. She sighed, resting her chin in her hand with a dreamy smile.

«Anyway, getting those two together is basically my mission now.» she declared with conviction. «Charlie and Vaggie will help me out… I hope. But even if they don't, I've got this.»

Alastor watched her for a beat longer, his grin never faltering.
On the surface, he looked like the usual amused spectator of some innocent romantic comedy.
But inside? Inside, his interest had flared into something entirely different.

So much information. So unexpectedly useful. And all he'd had to do… was listen.

«How very interesting…» he murmured, tilting his head slightly with a crooked smirk.

His tone was light, almost affectionate. But beneath the surface… there was something else. And Molly, wrapped up in her bubbly excitement over DustShot, didn't notice any of it.

Alastor straightened up, clapping his hands against his hips with his signature theatrical flair.

«Well, well, it's been a pleasure chatting with you, dearest, but I must be off now. See you at breakfast!»

He spun on his heel with the smoothness of a dancer and sauntered away with his usual relaxed stride, hands clasped behind his back, that smile never leaving his face.

As if the conversation had been nothing more than idle chit-chat.

But as he drifted away, that grin didn't waver. Not for a second.

Molly turned her attention back to the screen, completely absorbed in the video, utterly unaware of the dark, twisted gears now grinding away in the Radio Demon's mind.

And yet, as Bruce continued to snore, blissfully unaware, the air in the library seemed to grow just a little heavier.

As if something invisible had slithered into the room.

Something that knew how to wait.

And now, it had exactly the information it needed.

—Two hours later, breakfast
As soon as Charlie dropped into her seat at the table with the others, she collapsed forward, her torso slamming onto the wooden surface with an exhausted groan. Her breath came in heavy, labored gasps, arms dangling limply at her sides, and she barely missed planting her face right into her breakfast plate.

Vaggie shot forward immediately, alarmed. «What the hell… Charlie!» She leaned in, concern flashing across her face, before whipping her head around to glare at Eddie, her good eye practically blazing with fury. «What the hell did you do to her, you jacked-up butterfly?!» she snapped, looking ready to leap across the table and throttle him.

Eddie, entirely unfazed by her reaction, raised his hands in a peaceful gesture, as if his innocence was beyond question. «Nothing I didn't do myself when I started with the Guild.» he replied coolly, letting his gaze drift lazily across the table. «Running, weightlifting, bench press with the barbell, and a few rounds with the punching bag.»

He leaned back in his chair, spinning the small blue book between his fingers with a vaguely skeptical expression. «The exercises in this thing are way too advanced for her.»

Vaggie arched an eyebrow, still clearly not convinced.

Eddie sighed, flipping through a few pages before shoving the book toward her. «Thor's balls… look at this!» He jabbed a finger at a spot on the manual, and Vaggie leaned in to read. «Can you imagine Charlie doing this?!»

Vaggie's eyes widened as she scanned the illustrations. The image was downright terrifying: a man performing an impossibly deep squat with a load that would've made even a professional bodybuilder sweat bullets. The following pages weren't any better, filled with brutally heavy exercises, ridiculous weight limits, and movements so complicated they seemed designed to break anyone who wasn't born with steel bones. Even for someone athletic, it was a nightmare.

«This is… insane!» she exclaimed, snapping her gaze back to Eddie with a mix of disbelief and indignation. «Who the hell would think it's a good idea to make a beginner do this?!»

Charlie, her face still smooshed against the table, let out a faint whimper.

«I don't even want to know what's in that book…» she mumbled, her voice muffled by the wood.

Eddie nodded, satisfied that Vaggie had finally caught on to his point.

«Exactly. That's why I decided to start her on something simpler.» He shrugged. «Something anyone could handle.»

Tiger, who had wandered over with an amused smirk, crossed his arms and asked, dripping with sarcasm, «Anyone? Even a Guild rookie?»

He dropped into the seat beside the other security guards at the next table, still eyeing Eddie with a glint of curiosity. «And speaking of that…» he added, his tone shifting to something more inquisitive. «You never mentioned being in a Guild. Or that there were Guilds in Hell.»

A brief, heavy silence settled over the table.

Eddie sighed, dropping his gaze for a moment before giving a nonchalant shrug. «There was one.»

He paused, like he was weighing how much to reveal. Then he added, his voice neutral, «A long time ago. Didn't last.»

His words hung in the air, heavier than anyone expected.

Tiger exchanged looks with Yaga and Sprock, both clearly intrigued by the revelation, but no one dared push further.

Muto tapped his fingers lightly against the table, the rhythmic sound cutting through the tense silence. Then, slowly, he pulled out his battered notebook and scribbled something onto a crumpled page. With an impassive expression, he held it up for the others to see.

"Why don't we start our own?"

The shaky handwriting made more than one eyebrow rise. Tiger burst out laughing, shaking his head. «Oh, come on, Muto…» he said, though his tone held more curiosity than mockery. «You're saying we—five misfits and a grumpy boss—should start a Guild?»

Yaga, who had been listening quietly up to that point, rested her elbow on the table and grinned, her eyes glinting with mischief. «Wouldn't be the worst idea.» she said, tilting her head thoughtfully. «We've already got a name: The Irredeemables. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?»

Sprock, who'd been fiddling with a piece of metal between his fingers, paused and stared at them. «We could be The Guardians of Chaos… or something cooler.» Then he turned to Eddie, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. «And you'd be our leader. Obviously.»

Eddie looked at each of them in turn, his serious face betraying a faint tension beneath the calm exterior. «This isn't a joke, guys.» he said, his voice low but firm. «Guilds aren't just groups of friends having fun. They come with responsibility. Rules. And risks.»

Linda tilted her head, locking eyes with him. «Well, aren't we already in trouble every day? What difference would it make?»

Muto nodded silently, while Yaga added with a sly smile, «And you're already our boss, whether you like it or not. Only difference is, there's no official contract… yet.»

Silence settled over the group again, everyone waiting for Eddie's response. He dropped his gaze, old memories of the former Guild flashing behind his eyes. The pain. The betrayals. The end.

Then he shook his head, pushing those thoughts aside. «I'm not interested.» he declared coldly, standing up from the table. «And I suggest you drop it too.»

He walked off without another word, but the seed had been planted. His crew exchanged knowing glances.

The idea was born.

And it wasn't going to die that easily.

—

As Eddie piled his tray with anything that contained sugar, he couldn't shake the bitterness from his thoughts. "What a stupid idea," he muttered to himself, grabbing a donut with more force than necessary. "If only they knew all the hidden headaches that come with Guild life."

The memories soured further as he added a pastry to the pile.

'Why do I have to give part of my earnings to the Guild?'

'Why do I have to pay for sick or injured comrades?'

'Why do some people get treated better?'

He remembered those complaints all too well. The same gripes, over and over, from people who didn't understand that a Guild wasn't just an alliance—it was a support network. But when they were the ones in trouble, those same ungrateful bastards complained they weren't getting enough help.

Eddie clenched his jaw, shaking his head slightly. "No, we're better off as we are…"

Before his thoughts could spiral deeper, a light tap against his ankle pulled him back to the present.

Looking down quickly, he was met with a familiar sight: a little creature he hadn't seen in a while. Fat Nuggets, Angel's tiny pink pig, was nudging against his leg, trying to get his attention with gentle prods of his snout.

Eddie couldn't help but smile. Setting his tray on the nearest surface, he crouched down and scooped up the little animal.

«Hey, little guy! Long time no see.» he murmured, cradling Fat Nuggets against his chest like a baby. The piglet grunted happily, rubbing his snout against Eddie's chest, and Eddie felt a warmth bloom in his chest—something he didn't feel often.

«Where's your owner, huh?» he asked, his voice softer than usual, as if Fat Nuggets might actually answer.

The answer came sooner than he expected.

A familiar voice echoed through the room, tinged with a hint of worry.

Angel Dust.

Eddie felt a small jolt in his chest.

That kind of reaction always caught him off guard, but he forced himself to keep a neutral face.

"It's nothing." he told himself. "Just his voice."

But the quickened beat of his heart told a different story.

When Angel appeared in the doorway, the effect was immediate.

He moved quickly, eyes scanning the room with concern until they landed on Eddie—and more importantly, Fat Nuggets nestled in his arms.

Eddie forced himself to act casual, ignoring the warmth creeping up his neck. But inside, just seeing Angel was enough to crack the walls of self-control he'd painstakingly built.

With a sly grin, he masked the unease bubbling beneath his skin. «Looking for this little guy?» he asked, lifting Fat Nuggets slightly like a prize.

Angel approached with quick steps, relief softening his features.

«Shotty!» he exclaimed, a mix of affection and gratitude in his voice as he reached for his piglet. «Thank fuck you found him!» He cradled Fat Nuggets carefully against his chest, his touch almost maternal. «Don't know how, but he managed to sneak out of my room.» He shook his head with a sheepish smile. «I don't like letting him loose, especially now with so many people around.»

Eddie nodded, reaching out to scratch behind Fat Nuggets' ear. The piglet grunted in delight.

«Good thing he ended up in the right hands, then.» Eddie murmured, his voice dropping just a notch.

Without realizing it, his tone softened, turning almost tender as he spoke to the little creature. «Been a while, huh? You little pink devil.»

Angel barely stifled a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

«And what was that?»

Eddie straightened immediately, clearing his throat, trying to salvage a shred of dignity that seemed to have evaporated into thin air. «Nothing… I get soft around cute animals.»

Angel's grin grew, but this time there was something different in his gaze. It wasn't just amusement. There was curiosity, something deeper that seemed to dig beneath the surface.

«Who'd have thought Headshot the tough guy's got a soft spot for cute beings?» He gave Eddie's arm a playful pat, the brief contact lingering longer than necessary. «Maybe I should bring Fat Nuggets around more often if that's the effect he has on you.»

Eddie tried to maintain his impassive expression, but he felt the heat on his cheeks intensify. «Don't push it. I just… like animals.»

«Mhm, sure.» Angel replied, drawing out the words, clearly unconvinced.

Then, suddenly, his expression shifted—his eyes darkening just a little, his smile fading into something quieter, more vulnerable. Stroking Fat Nuggets gently, he lowered his voice as if confessing something he hadn't said out loud before.

«Y'know… sometimes I think Fat Nuggets is the only good thing I got left.»

Eddie froze, caught off guard by the sudden change in tone.

Angel looked down at his piglet, his voice softer, almost fragile.

«The job's shit sometimes.» Angel continued, his tone dropping even further, his eyes reflecting a hidden pain behind his usual cocky façade. «I do what I gotta do, smile, play the part… but after…» He paused, his fingers nervously running along the piglet's back. «After, I always feel dirty. Broken.»

He hugged Fat Nuggets tighter, like the little pig could shield him from those thoughts.

«He's the only one who never looks at me like I'm some used goods.» His voice trembled slightly, but he quickly pulled it back, forcing a bitter smile. «With him… I don't have to pretend I'm something I'm not.»

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with something neither of them wanted to face directly.

Eddie swallowed hard, his heart pounding louder than it should've been. Then, with a voice gentler than he'd intended, he said, «You're not… used goods.» His voice was low, almost a whisper.

There was a spark there, something raw and real, an intimacy they hadn't shared before. «And if it helps… I don't see you as broken or dirty. It doesn't matter how many people you've fucked. You're not a candle that burns down every time someone lights it; you're a person. And the number of beds you've been in doesn't define who you are. You're a porn actor, so what? They don't call it "the oldest profession in the world" for nothing. You're not the first, and you won't be the last. In some cultures, your role is even considered sacred.»

Angel stayed silent for a moment, letting those words sink in. Then, slowly, a smile curled at his lips. But it wasn't the usual cocky grin. It was warmer, more genuine.

Feeling the moment get too personal, Eddie rushed to close it off.

«The point is… I think you deserve better. That's all.» He shrugged, feigning indifference. «And if anyone gives you shit about your job, call me. I'll set 'em straight.»

Angel raised an eyebrow, surprised and… maybe a little touched. «We're soft today, huh, Shotty?»

Eddie pulled a mock frown, more amused than offended, and with a vaguely theatrical tone grabbed his tray. «Alright, I take it back. You're on your own, Silly.»

Angel laughed, a light, easy sound that melted some of the tension between them. «Didn't peg you for the sensitive type, Headie.»

Eddie shot him the finger, playful. «Go fuck yourself, Angel.»

Angel responded by raising two of his free arms, the ones not holding Fat Nuggets. «Only if you watch!»

Eddie froze for a second, caught off guard by the bold comeback. He felt the heat rise to his face but forced himself to keep a straight expression. Then, with a mischievous smirk, he shot back, «Careful what you wish for, Silly.»

He stepped a little closer, his voice dropping to a provocative whisper. «I might just take you up on that.»

Angel's eyes widened, surprised by the unexpected reply. A faint blush colored his cheeks beneath the fur, but he didn't back down. If anything, his grin grew even more devilish.

«Oh? And who says that's not exactly what I want?» His voice was low, husky, and the step he took toward Eddie closed the gap between them even more.

The air between them crackled with palpable electricity.

Eddie rolled his eyes, trying to downplay the tension, but he couldn't stop the shiver that ran down his spine.

Those words nearly made his fingers tremble.

"Damn it, Angel."

«You're impossible.» he muttered, trying to keep his tone neutral, though his racing heart betrayed him.

Angel chuckled, holding Fat Nuggets close as he watched Eddie with an amused expression. «C'mon, you know I love teasing you.» His voice was soft, velvet-smooth, slipping under Eddie's skin like both a caress and a challenge.

Then, with a grin full of pure mischief, he added: «And once you start glowing… I know I've done a good job.»

Eddie swallowed hard. He felt that familiar glow start to pulse beneath his skin, a faint bluish light threading through his veins.

Of course, Angel didn't miss it. And his grin stretched even wider, satisfied like he'd just won a challenge neither of them had openly acknowledged.

—A few hours later, Lucifer's room

The sun filtered weakly through the drawn curtain, casting faint slivers of light across the dark room. The King of Hell still lay in bed, clinging to his pillow like a man grasping at a memory. The sheets were rumpled, his clothes from the night before still clinging to his body, reeking of smoke and wine—the remnants of a night spent crying and trying, unsuccessfully, to sleep.

What little sleep he had managed had been restless, haunted by the incessant thoughts that Lilith's letter had stirred. A bittersweet torment gripped his heart in an unrelenting vice.

Since the day Charlie had almost lost herself, he'd tried to be more present, more involved in managing the Hotel. And yet, this morning, he couldn't even muster the strength to get out of bed. His head throbbed, his eyes were red and swollen, and the pillow beneath him was still damp with tears. There was nothing regal or fearsome about him—not in this pathetic mess of a man drowning in his own thoughts.

The silence in the room was heavy, nearly suffocating, and for a moment, he considered staying there forever, hidden from everything and everyone. But then, a faint rustle broke through that oppressive quiet.

He lifted his gaze, eyelids heavy as lead, and noticed a white envelope resting on the nightstand beside the bed. One of Alastor's shadows had undoubtedly delivered his mail. The sight of the letter sent an involuntary shiver of irritation down his spine.

«Ugh, enough with the damn letters.» he croaked, his voice hoarse and laced with frustration. The mere thought of facing another message, another burden to add to the mountain of worries already crushing him, was nauseating. Lilith's letter had been more than enough to shatter his precarious balance. Who else dared to write to him now?

With an exasperated sigh, he forced himself to reach for the nightstand. His fingers brushed against the paper reluctantly, and with a lazy flick of his magic, he drew the curtains aside. The hellish light burst into the room, blinding his tired eyes. He squeezed them shut, cursing his impulsive decision.

When his vision finally cleared and the room came back into focus, his eyes fell on the sender's name.

And his blood ran cold.

Valentino.

The name was scrawled on the envelope in elegant, sinister handwriting, each letter slashing across the paper like a wound.

Lucifer froze, his mind racing in a thousand directions. What the hell do that sadistic pimp want? What new twisted game was he playing?

His heart pounded harder, a mix of anger and apprehension tightening in his chest.

«What do you want, you bastard?» he hissed through gritted teeth, glaring at the envelope as if he could set it ablaze with just a look.

He knew opening that letter meant inviting more trouble. But ignoring it?

Well, he'd never been one to turn his back on a threat.

With a deep breath and clenched jaw, he slid his finger under the edge of the envelope and ripped it open with a sharp motion. Whatever was inside, he was ready to find out.

Or at least, he hoped he was.