The mechanical joints of Spade’s fingertips glinted with a cold, hard metallic luster.
His long, slender fingers flexed nimbly as he shoved the final Exorcist corpse into a blackened burlap sack at his feet.
With a casual twist, he sealed the opening with a metal clasp, ensuring not even a trace of the angel’s lingering holy light could leak out.
He looked up, and on that eerie, clown-like face, his mouth stretched into a grin that nearly split his cheeks.
A mask-like smile hung on his face, radiating an indescribable sense of playfulness and cruelty.
Those ten straggling angels just now—two high-ranking Exorcists and eight rank-and-file ones—had all become souls lost to his hand.
Targeting stragglers had been Spade’s unwavering hobby for centuries.
First, he would use that clown face to tease and toy with them, watching the angels shift from arrogant rage to trembling terror, before slowly putting them to death.
This twisted joy was one of his few pastimes during his long years in Hell.
He had lucked out this time.
The Exorcist army led by Adam was the largest in ten thousand years, and the number of stragglers scattered about was uncountable.
What did it matter if he killed a few more?
Destroying the evidence was a trivial matter to him.
Besides, the last time he visited Carmilla, he had given her and her two daughters all his stock of angel meat.
Now that his cold storage was empty, he was taking this opportunity to restock.
After confirming there were no living presences nearby and that even the last traces of angelic tracking light had dissipated, Spade’s figure suddenly flashed.
A black afterimage sliced through Hell’s dark red sky, and in an instant, he vanished from the spot, heading straight back to his own territory—that hidden factory permeating with the smell of rusted metal and a faint scent of blood.
Back inside the factory, dim lights illuminated the haphazard mechanical pipes, and the air wafted with the scent of engine oil and unknown spices.
Spade dragged the burlap sack full of Exorcist corpses, walking into the kitchen area with practiced ease.
His movements were horrifyingly proficient—dismantling, processing, cooking—the entire workflow was seamless.
In moments, the once-holy angelic bodies were transformed into meat suitable for long-term storage and sorted into the cold locker.
The moment he closed the heavy door of the cold storage, Spade clapped the dust off his hands, his clownish grin deepening.
This was enough to last him a long time.
Now, it was time to find some other fun to kill time.
The years in Hell were long enough to be numbing; centuries were but the blink of an eye.
On this day, Spade was slumped listlessly in the leather chair of his office, the small television in front of him playing a variety of Hell’s boring programs.
Having television in modern Hell was a novelty; in the past, he could only pass the time with an old radio.
But even with TV, it was nothing but repeating farces and bloody competitions.
It made his eyelids heavy, and he was so bored he felt like he was starting to grow mold.
“Tsk, this crappy TV isn’t even as interesting as the old radios back then.
At least on the radio, you could hear other demons arguing.” Spade curled his lip, his clown face showing a look of disdain as his mechanical finger casually pressed the remote to channel surf.
Suddenly, the TV screen cut to a commercial—in the frame, the blonde Princess of Hell, Charlie, was full of enthusiasm, gesturing wildly as she promoted her “Redemption Hotel,” trying to get the most heinous demons to turn over a new leaf and ascend to Heaven.
The commercial was filmed terribly—logic was non-existent, the emotions were exaggerated—it was exactly like in the original work, as bad as it could possibly be.
Spade stared at the screen.
He was stunned for a couple of seconds before he couldn’t help but burst out laughing, the smile on his clown face becoming vivid once more.
“Our Princess of Hell is truly bored out of her mind, actually opening something like a Redemption Hotel?
Wanting demons to repent?
It’s pure fantasy.” He shook his head, his tone full of mocking banter.
“But fine.
Hell has been quiet for too long.
Finally, there’s something new to watch.” With those words, Spade suddenly stood up from his chair, straightened his clothes, and turned to walk out of the office.
He summoned a few demons responsible for managing the factory and issued a casual yet indisputable command: “I’ll be out for a few days and won’t be back.
Handle the factory business yourselves.
Don’t cause me any trouble.” Without waiting for a response, Spade walked out the factory gates without looking back.
Where was he going?
The answer was obvious—naturally, it was to that new Redemption Hotel opened by Princess Charlie.
The plot was finally about to begin, and he didn’t want to miss the show.
Meanwhile, inside the Redemption Hotel.
Charlie’s head hung low, her blonde hair draped limply against her cheeks.
Her once-bright eyes were now dull and lifeless.
She looked utterly dejected as she pushed open the hotel doors, her footsteps heavy as she walked in.
She had just been out promoting the hotel and had once again been mocked and rejected by countless demons.
Her heart, once full of hope, had been thoroughly dampened, and even her tail drooped powerlessly.
“Charlie!” Vaggie spotted the depressed Charlie immediately and hurried forward, gently taking her arm and comforting her in a soft voice: “Don’t be sad, it’s okay.
We’ll take it slow.
Someone will eventually believe in us.” Under Vaggie’s gentle comfort, Charlie took a deep breath, patted her cheeks, and pulled herself together.
She clenched her fists, her gaze becoming determined once more: “You’re right!
I can’t give up.
The Redemption Hotel will definitely be a success!” Just then— *Knock, knock, knock.* A crisp knocking sound, carrying a somewhat eerie rhythm, suddenly rang out.
Charlie’s eyes lit up.
She instantly forgot her previous gloom, a brilliant smile breaking across her face as she turned toward the door with great anticipation.
“It must be a new guest!
Finally, a kind demon is willing to give it a try!” She skipped to the door and grabbed the wooden handle, swinging the hotel door wide open.
The next second, the smile on Charlie’s face froze instantly, and she stood rooted to the spot as if a paralysis spell had been cast on her.
Standing outside the door was not the ordinary demon she had expected, but a tall figure with a bizarre aura—an impossibly wide, yellow-toothed grin, wearing a bright, eye-searing red suit.
He held a vintage radio-cane in his hand, and the air around him hummed with the static of an old-fashioned broadcast.
It was him!
The existence known by everyone in Hell, the most dangerous and maddening being—the Radio Demon, Alastor!
Alastor tilted his head slightly, the yellow grin on his face widening further.
He was just about to open his mouth to deliver his classic “Hello—” in his signature tone.
But the “Hel—” had barely reached his lips before he could spit it out.
Charlie suddenly snapped out of it.
Her pupils shrank, her scream caught in her throat, and without a word—*BAM*—she slammed the door shut with all her might!
The force of the impact was so great the entire hotel shook, the door slamming hard against the frame, locking Alastor out.
Charlie leaned her back against the door, her hands gripping the handle tightly.
She gasped for air, her heart pounding wildly, her face pale.
She even wondered if she was hallucinating.
How could the Radio Demon possibly come to their little hotel?!
Vaggie was startled by this sudden turn of events.
She quickly walked to Charlie’s side, seeing her shaken state, and asked in confusion: “Charlie?
What happened?
Who’s at the door?
What scared you like that?” Charlie shuddered at the sound of Vaggie’s voice.
She turned to look at her, her eyes full of terror and disbelief, her voice trembling: “Vaggie!
You won’t believe it!
Alastor the Radio Demon is outside!
He actually came to our hotel!” Upon hearing this, Vaggie’s expression changed instantly.
Her once-gentle eyes turned solemn, and she instinctively moved to stand in front of Charlie.
“Alastor?
That lunatic Radio Demon?
How did he find this place?” Charlie hadn’t recovered from the shock yet.
Her hand on the door felt weak as she whispered frantically, “Oh my god, oh my god, why would he come here?
How could our shitty little hotel catch his eye?
This is terrifying!” Outside, Alastor, far from being angry at having the door slammed in his face, let out a low chuckle.
The crackle of old radio static accompanied his laughter, carrying an indescribable creepiness.
He raised his hand and knocked gently on the door again, his tone light and playful: “Don’t be so nervous, my dears~ I’ve come with the utmost sincerity to join your Redemption Hotel~” Inside the hotel, Charlie and Vaggie exchanged a look, both seeing total helplessness in the other’s eyes.
What they didn’t know was that on a nearby street corner, a figure dressed strangely with an eerie clown-like smile was leaning against a wall.
He was watching the hotel door with great interest, a mechanical finger tapping his chin, his face full of the delight of someone watching a good show.
“Oh my, oh my, the show has begun~” Spade chuckled softly, his eyes full of anticipation.
“This is going to be something to see.” The winds of change in Hell officially began to stir from this tiny Redemption Hotel.
And Spade, who had specifically come looking for entertainment, was destined to become the most unexpected variable in this farce.