Inside the Hazbin Hotel, the vibe couldn't be more different.
Warm lighting. Bright colors. An optimism that was forced, an optimism that hung in the crooked tendrils of air like a broken promise unable to crack itself — no matter how many times reality tried and prove this whole damn thing wrong.
Charlie Morningstar stood toward the middle of the room, her hands clasped together as she spoke with sparkling verve.
"And that's why redemption isn't only possible — it's required! But if we can just get people to see that—"
She stopped mid-sentence.
Her voice was not fading off naturally. It cut.
Like something had reached into the moment and one of us wasn't there.
Her smile faded.
"…Do you feel that?"
Vaggie didn't hesitate.
Her hand reflexively went to her spear, the posture in her back tightening as she scanned the room like a soldier waiting for an attack.
"…Yeah," she muttered. "I don't like it."
It was not a presence that screamed danger.
It was worse.
Like something that didn't have to be dangerous to turn into a problem.
A well-known voice came from the corner of the room, crackling softly in spite of the tension.
"Well now… that's definitely new."
Well, Alastor was the one who just leaned coolly against the wall with the same creepy smile plastered at his face. But there was something different about it — subtle, nearly imperceptible.
Sharpened.
Interested.
"Oh, I do love a surprise," he went on, amusement in his voice. "And this one … oh, this one just has a real special feel."
Outside, the man stopped walking.
His head cocked slightly, as if he had heard something distant.
"…Radio demon," he murmured.
There was no acknowledgement in his tone. No excitement.
Just acknowledgment.
"I remember something like you."
And then—
He disappeared.
Not vanished in smoke. Not dissolved into shadow.
He was simply… gone.
Inside the hotel, Alastor's smile wavered.
If only for a split second.
"…Oh?"
It was seeping enough that no one else caught on.
But for the first time in quite some time —
Something unfamiliar settled in the back of Alastor.
Not fear.
Not yet.
But something that was similar enough to pique his interest.