[Hell · Outside the Hazbin Hotel · Dark Alleyway] A heavy, dark red sky hung eternally over Hell.
The air was thick with the pungent stench of sulfur, burnt leather, and low-grade alcohol.
The ground was pitted and scarred, littered with dried black bloodstains and the shattered bones of demons.
Occasionally, twisted, pus-covered low-level demons scurried through the shadows of the alley corners, emitting piercing screeches before vanishing back into the deeper darkness.
The Hazbin Hotel sat in the center of this chaotic, dilapidated street.
Its exterior looked like a vintage lodge that had been half-burned down and haphazardly patched back together.
A crooked sign hung from the eaves, bearing the words “Happy Hotel” in jagged, blood-red script.
Faint, dark red stains clung to the edges of the sign, lending the place an eerie and absurd atmosphere.
In the shadows of the alleyway outside the entrance, Spade leaned against a cold, damp stone wall.
Half his face was submerged in thick gloom, leaving only his eyes—glowing with a ghostly green light—to stare fixedly at the hotel’s main entrance.
His form shifted uncannily in the darkness; one moment he appeared to be a standard demon, and the next, the blurred silhouette of Prototype 2006 would flicker through.
His fingertips rhythmically tapped against the wall, producing a dull “thud, thud” that echoed clearly in the silent alley.
Charlie stood before the hotel’s main doors, her clean, neat white dress creating a sharp contrast with the filth and chaos of Hell.
Initially, her head was bowed, her blonde curls draping over her cheeks.
Her eyes were filled with trepidation and unease, and her small hands gripped her skirt so tightly that her knuckles were white.
She looked like a frightened little lamb, her breathing kept so shallow it was as if she feared the malice of Hell would swallow her whole if she drew too much attention.
Just moments ago, a few words of encouragement from Spade had acted like a faint but warm beam of light, piercing through the gloom in Charlie’s heart.
She suddenly snapped her head up.
Her dull blue eyes flared with light, like ignited stars, filled with unprecedented resolve and confidence.
Taking a deep breath, she straightened her slender back.
A bright, hopeful smile spread across her face.
She waved vigorously toward Spade in the shadows, then turned with light footsteps and strode toward the Heaven Embassy.
Her gait was no longer hesitant or trembling.
Every step was steady, and her golden curls bounced with her movements.
From behind, she looked radiant and full of life, as if she truly believed she could persuade Heaven to stop the Extermination of Hell and fulfill her great dream of redeeming demons.
Standing in the dark, Spade took in Charlie’s newfound confidence.
As her small figure disappeared around a corner toward the contact point that linked Heaven and Hell, he couldn’t help but chuckle.
He shook his head, his voice low and laced with a mix of mockery and helpless sentiment, audible only to himself.
“Tsk, tsk…
That little girl Charlie.
Her confidence must be through the roof right now.
She’s probably floating on air.” He paused, a complex light flickering in his green eyes, and continued his quiet banter in a tone that suggested he saw through it all.
“The girl is a pure idiot, through and through.
Even if she was just moping a moment ago because she couldn’t tie a knot or her plans were falling apart, you give her a tiny bit of encouragement and she’s immediately back on her feet.
It’s like she’s been injected with chicken blood; she just charges forward foolishly.
I don’t know if that innocence is a blessing or a curse.
In a dog-eat-dog place like Hell, she’s probably the only one left holding onto such unrealistic hope…” Spade sighed softly and fell silent.
He turned and merged into the deeper shadows.
His footsteps were silent, like a phantom, as he slipped toward the hotel’s back door and headed straight for the kitchen to start on the day’s meals.
The Hazbin Hotel’s kitchen was a place of perpetual chaos and domesticity.
The stove was built from black rock, topped with several rusted iron pots simmering with Hell’s uniquely bizarre ingredients.
The air was a mix of spicy, greasy, and strangely sweet aromas.
The cabinets were cluttered with various jars containing Hellish seasonings, and dried demon plant roots were scattered across the floor.
It was messy, yet it felt lived-in.
Spade entered the kitchen, skillfully tied on an oil-stained apron, and picked up a spatula to begin processing the ingredients with practiced ease.
His movements were deft and efficient.
As he stir-fried the food, he occasionally muttered to himself, complaining about Charlie’s naivety, Heaven’s hypocrisy, and the unreliable bunch of demons inhabiting the hotel.
The only sounds in the kitchen were the clinking of the spatula and his hushed, rhythmic grumbling.
[Heaven · Embassy · Sacred Hall] Diametrically opposed to the filth, chaos, and darkness of Hell, the Heaven Embassy was a magnificent, holy palace of pure white.
The entire hall was constructed from white marble that emitted a soft golden glow.
The soaring dome was carved with exquisite angelic patterns.
The walls were polished to a spotless shine, and the floor was like a mirror, clearly reflecting anyone who stood upon it.
The air was filled with a faint, soul-soothing holy fragrance, devoid of any impurities—so clean that it seemed even dust feared to settle there.
The hall was empty and terrifyingly quiet.
Charlie’s small figure standing in the center of the vast space seemed particularly tiny.
Despite Spade’s encouragement back at the hotel, Charlie couldn’t help but feel the nerves return the moment she stepped into this hall representing Heaven’s authority.
Her small hands clenched together again, her palms slick with cold sweat.
Her blue eyes darted around, and her heart hammered against her ribs as if trying to leap out of her throat.
The silence was absolute; the only sound was her own ragged breathing echoing through the cavernous space, each breath carrying a slight tremor.
“Is…
Is anyone here?
Hello?” Charlie mustered all her courage and called out toward the front of the hall.
Her voice was as thin as a mosquito’s buzz, laden with timidity.
The only response was an endless echo.
“Is anyone here…
anyone here…
here…?” Her voice drifted through the grand hall, repeating over and over, growing fainter until it vanished into the silence.
No one answered.
Charlie’s heart raced faster.
She bit her lower lip and cautiously shuffled forward, her gaze landing on a pure white reception desk at the front.
The desk was smooth and empty, looking cold and solemn.
Charlie stared at it for a long while, her anxiety mounting.
“What’s going on…?” she complained inwardly.
“Heaven’s embassy is way too deserted.
Isn’t there even one angel on duty?
Such a huge hall and not a soul in sight—it’s creepy…
If I’d known it would be this scary, I would’ve dragged Vaggie along.
At least I’d have someone to talk to…” As she grumbled to herself, she didn’t stop moving.
She slowly reached the reception desk.
The moment she approached, a set of pure white elevator doors behind the counter—previously shut tight—opened with a soft “ding.” The instant the doors slid open, a wave of even more intense holy energy washed over her.
Startled, Charlie jumped back, her eyes wide with alarm as she stared into the elevator.
The elevator was empty, yet it felt as though an invisible hand were beckoning her.
Charlie swallowed hard, her heart in her throat.
She hesitantly lifted a foot and, step by step, crept into the elevator.
The doors slid shut, and the elevator began its ascent.
In the cramped space, Charlie pressed her back against the wall, her body trembling slightly as she whispered to herself.
“Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid…
Charlie, you can do this!
You’re here to negotiate with Heaven, not to die!
No matter how scary Adam is, he can’t just attack me right here in Heaven…
right?
I’m the Princess of Hell, after all.
He has to show some respect…” But the more she tried to comfort herself, the more panicked she became.
Rumors of Adam kept flashing through her mind—the brutal, arrogant leader of the Exorcist army, the First Man, Adam.
Just the thought of him sent shivers down her spine.
The elevator soon came to a halt.
The doors opened to reveal a long, equally white and pristine corridor.
Paintings of angels hung on both walls, and at the far end, a massive wooden door was visible.
It was carved with intricate, imposing patterns.
Charlie took a deep breath, clenched her fists, and began walking cautiously down the corridor.
Each step felt like walking on a knife’s edge, the tension nearly suffocating her.
Finally, she reached the meeting room door at the end of the hall.
She reached out and gently pushed the wooden door open.