Leave a comment if you want more! I'm on a writing streak right now! I've never updated so many chapters in a week before!
Chapter 16
Charlie walked through the dimly lit halls of the Happy Hotel, feeling the weight of the morning pressing down on her.
The conversation with Alastor still lingered in her mind—his unexpected display of sincerity, the way he had prepared breakfast with such care, and of course, the oddly bittersweet moment when he handed her the plate meant for Vaggie.
She shook her head, letting out a small sigh.
Alastor is… complicated.
At times, he was the embodiment of chaos, delighting in his own brand of mischief. Other times, he was unreadable holding onto secrets and memories that no one could fully understand.
And yet, despite everything, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something… about him, something that he was trying to hide behind his smile.
Lost in thought, she nearly walked past the lounge without noticing the tall figure sitting stiffly on the couch, an expression of absolute bewilderment frozen on his face.
Charlie blinked, stepping back to take in the scene.
Alastor sat in his usual, exaggerated posture with his legs crossed and one arm draped lazily over the armrest, but his usual confident air was completely absent.
Instead, his red eyes were locked onto the glowing screen of a modern smartphone resting in his hands, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.
The sight was so bizarre that Charlie had to stifle a laugh.
"Uh… Alastor?" she finally called, stepping into the room.
He didn't respond immediately, his gloved fingers hesitantly tapping at the screen, as if it might explode at any moment. His frown deepened when the device vibrated in response, making him jolt slightly.
Charlie couldn't hold back her amusement anymore.
She crossed her arms, tilting her head with a wide smile. "Are… are you okay?"
Alastor let out a dramatic sigh, setting the phone down on the coffee table with exaggerated care as if it were a cursed artifact rather than a simple piece of modern technology.
"This infernal contraption,"he declared, gesturing to the phone with the same energy one might use to describe an unspeakable horror."It refuses to cooperate!"
Charlie chuckled, walking over and picking up the device. She glanced at the screen; he had somehow opened the calculator app and was repeatedly pressing random numbers without any apparent purpose.
"Oh," she said, stifling another laugh. "Uh, what exactly were you trying to do?"
Alastor waved a hand dismissively.
"I was trying to excess this so-called 'Hellstigram' for a particular job of mine."
Charlie bit her lip to keep from laughing outright. "W-Wait, how did you get a phone?"
Alastor tapped a finger against his chin thoughtfully before answering,
"Ah, yes! That spider fellow, his name was Angel Dust?"
Of course. That made too much sense.
Charlie let out a small groan. "And what exactly did Angel tell you to do with it?"
Alastor smiled, though it held a slight edge of irritation."Oh, nothing useful! He simply shoved it into my hands and said, and I quote—'Have fun, grandpa!' quite rude I must say!"
Charlie snorted.
"Then he scampered off cackling and hiding behind Husker before I could get any useful information out of him."
She shook her head. Well, that explains a lot.
"Here, let me help you!" Charlie took a seat next to him, tilting the phone so he could see. "Okay, well, first of all, you had the calculator open."
"Calculator?"
"Yup, it's used for math and stuff."
Alastor gave her a deeply offended look, looking over her shoulder to see her somehow exit out of the app.
"I do know what a calculator is, my dear. I simply fail to see why it would be the first thing to appear when I touched the blasted thing!"
Charlie giggled at his struggle, proving that she was still a demon after all.
"Okay, that's fair, but this is the home screen, see? This is where all the apps are." She swiped her finger across the screen, watching Alastor's expression as he took in the movement.
His eyes narrowed slightly, clearly skeptical.
"So, the images move at the flick of a finger?" He mused, reaching out and hesitantly swiping at the screen himself. When it responded instantly, his ears twitched in surprise."Hah! Fascinating."
Charlie grinned. "You can do a lot with this. You can make calls, send messages, browse the internet…"
Alastor's eyes flicked up to her with interest."Internet?"
He heard that word before but never cared enough to figure out what it was. Especially when it had something to do with tv.
Charlie paused, realizing just how much explaining she'd have to do if she went down that rabbit hole.
"Uh… it's basically a place where you can find all kinds of information, and I mean all kinds of knowledge, watch videos, and interact with people from all over." She summed it up as best as she could.
Alastor's smile faltered ever so slightly.
"You mean to tell me that this—"he gestured at the phone"—contains access to an entire world of knowledge?"
"Well, yeah."
"And all you have to do is tap on this overcomplicated piece of a metal brick?"
"…Yeah?"
Alastor was silent for a moment.
"That sounds terrible."
Charlie burst into laughter at how done he sounded.
"I mean it!"Alastor insisted, throwing his hands up."Why, in my day, if you wanted to know something, you had to work for it! You had to listen, or read, or—Heaven forbids—engage in actual conversation!"
Charlie wiped a tear from her eye, shaking her head. "I mean… you still can do those things."
"Bah! But now it's all at the mercy of—"He pointed at the phone accusingly"—this thing!"
Charlie giggled, covering her smile with her hand. "I take it you're not a fan of modern technology?"
"It's not my specialty I admit,"He said, smile stiff."But I tolerate it when I must~"
"Well, if you ever actually want to learn how to use it, I can teach you." Charlie rolled her eyes playfully.
Alastor hummed, stroking his chin."Tempting. Very tempting…"
Charlie smirked, remembering what he said earlier. "I could even show you how to go to Hellstigram, I can even be your first follower there!"
That got his attention, his red eyes lit up with genuine intrigue.
"Hellstigram, you say?"
"Yep! I personally have two hundred followers, no big deal~" She was definitely not bragging.
Not. At. All.
"…Teach me."
Charlie laughed, holding up the phone and getting comfortable on the couch, she could already tell she was going to be there for a while.
"Alright, let's start with something simple before we get to it, you need to know a few things."
As she pulled up a music app, Alastor watched closely, his curiosity finally overcoming his skepticism.
Perhaps, just perhaps, there was some merit to these modern contraptions after all.
As Charlie guided Alastor through the basics of using the phone, a nagging voice at the back of her mind reminded her that she really shouldn't be doing this.
This is Alastor, she reminded herself.
The Radio Demon. An Overlord. One of the most dangerous entities in Hell.
She knew what he was capable of. She had heard the stories, listened to the warnings, especially from Vaggie.
And yet…
Here she was.
Sitting beside him, laughing with him, teaching him how to use a smartphone like he was just another lost soul in need of a helping hand.
Why was she like this?
Charlie had always believed in redemption, in second chances. It was the foundation of everything she was trying to accomplish with the hotel.
But Alastor was… different.
She knew this, hell, her most trusted person even told her this.
He wasn't a sinner looking for salvation, he wasn't someone trapped in Hell, desperate for a way out.
He was content here. Thriving. Powerful.
He didn't need her help.
And yet, when she saw him confused over something as simple as a phone when she saw that flash of genuine curiosity in his red eyes, she wanted to help.
She wanted to bridge the gap between them, even if she knew it was a dangerous path to walk.
It wasn't wise.
It wasn't safe.
But Charlie had never been one to turn her back on someone, even when she really, really should.
And maybe that was her biggest sin.
"You're making that face, "Alastor suddenly said, tilting his head at her.
Charlie blinked, turning away from the phone to look at him in confusion. "What face?"
"The one where you're thinking far too hard about something you probably shouldn't be thinking about."His grin widened knowingly.
She sighed, shaking her head. "I just… I shouldn't be helping you."
Alastor chuckled."And yet, here you are!"
Charlie exhaled through her nose.
"Yeah… Here I am."
There was a brief pause.
Alastor, taking the phone out of her hand, tapped the phone screen experimentally, still getting used to the sensation of it responding to his touch.
"You're far too kind, dear. It's rather adorable, I can see why Vagatha took a liking to you~"
Charlie stiffened slightly. "That's not—"
"Oh, don't misunderstand!"He turned to her, his smile sharp yet oddly amused."It's not a complaint. If anything, it's quite entertaining to watch you struggle with that pesky little conscience of yours."
She should stop this.
She should listen to all the warnings she had been given and keep her distance from him.
But instead, she took the phone back from him and smiled, "Okay, let me show you how to search things up."
Alastor's grin widened.
Charlie really was too nice for her own good.
—
Alastor sat alone in the dimly lit lounge, the glow of the smartphone illuminating his sharp features.
Now that Charlie had finally left him to his own devices, quite literally, he found himself curiously poking around this so-called Hellstigram.
He tilted his head slightly, watching as the screen responded to his every tap and swipe.
It was a peculiar sensation, this immediate access to… everything.
He could see why so many demons wasted their life and afterlives glued to these infernal little screens.
A chuckle escaped his lips as he scrolled through the feed Charlie had set up for him. She had done all the tedious work for him from creating an account, setting up a profile picture (a grainy, unflattering photo she had taken of him mid-sentence), and even following a handful of people from the hotel.
She seemed particularly excited when she made him follow her without giving him a say in it.
Heh. How trusting.
His crimson eyes flickered with amusement as he skimmed through the various posts. Angel Dust's page was, predictably, filled with risqué poses and shameless thirst traps.
Even Husk's had an account with exactly one post: a blurry photo of a glass of whiskey with the caption "fuck off."
But then, as he idly swiped through, he decided to finally go to the account for the reason why he did all of this, to begin with.
A familiar, furry face appeared.
He remembered her name to be Loona.
Alastor's grin widened ever so slightly as he tapped on her profile.
The hellhound had been particularly hostile toward him since their little run-in at I.M.P. Though he hadn't given her much thought at the time, seeing her here, in this carefully curated space of hers, was… intriguing.
Her page was unsurprisingly active, with how she was glued to her phone the entire time he was there.
The first image was a mirror selfie in her usual ripped fishnets and crop top, throwing up a careless hand sign.
The caption simply read, "Felt cute. Might maul someone later. Idk."
Alastor chuckled.
She seemed to be quite popular, the number of followers she had blew Charlie's out of the water, with thousands of likes and comments on each post.
Half were from lustful male demons fawning over her edgy, dangerous vibe.
The other half were… Alastor decided to ignore the other half, which seemed to be the reason for most of the number of followers she had.
He could have gone another hundred years without knowing about 'them', but sacrifices must be made.
Alastor hummed to himself as he scrolled through Loona's posts, tapping a gloved finger rhythmically against the phone screen. The more he looked, the more he realized just how incredibly easy it was to learn about someone without even speaking to them.
Gone were the days of having to actually follow someone around, hide in the shadows, or eavesdrop from a respectable distance.
Gathering all the information needed before completing the kill.
No, no, no! Now, all it took was a few swipes and taps, and suddenly, you could know everything about a person.
Their habits, their interests, their moods—all conveniently documented for the world to see.
How delightfully horrifying!
Alastor couldn't help but grin at the thought, the concept of privacy was all but nonexistent in Hell, but even still, the sheer amount of information people willingly gave away was downright laughable. And Loona?
Oh, she was no exception.
He continued scrolling, seeing more of her unfiltered, unapologetic life on display. Bar fights, blurry club photos, moody selfies captioned with "Don't talk to me" or "Fuck off" (ironically, all of which had thousands of likes). There were even a few rare candid shots, ones clearly taken by someone else, where she looked genuinely relaxed.
One, in particular, caught his eye.
A photo of her lounging on a worn-out couch, legs kicked up over the armrest, a cigarette dangling between her fingers. The lighting was dim, the angle slightly off-center, but there was something… strangely personal about it.
She wasn't posing, wasn't putting on an act.
Just existing.
Interesting.
While he continued to scroll, something caught his attention.
Alastor's eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he scrolled further.
There, buried among the various images of her everyday life, was a post that stood out.
At first glance, it seemed no different from the rest. It was a casual, low-effort photo of her desk of a half-eaten sandwich, an empty energy drink can, and her ever-present frown. The caption read,
"Shit job. Shittier lunch."
Harmless.
But Alastor's gaze lingered, something catching his attention in the background.
Just barely peeking out from the edge of the frame, nearly blending into the dark surface of the desk.
A corner of a book.
Not just any book.
A grimoire.
A very familiar grimoire.
Alastor stilled, his playful grin freezing in place.
His fingers hovered over the screen, zooming in ever so slightly.
There it was. Bound in worn leather, etched with faded infernal symbols, symbols that pulsed faintly, even through the dim lighting of the photo.
His eyes darkened with interest.
That was Blitzo's grimoire.
But even out in the open so carelessly, he noticed powerful protection spells.
The protective wards surrounding the ancient tome were not to be taken lightly. Even through the blurry background of a casual Hellstagram post, Alastor could sense the potent energy emanating from it, a testament to the dangerous secrets it held within its pages.
His shadow had already experienced the painful backlash firsthand when it attempted to breach the vault. The searing holy magic woven into the grimoire's defenses spoke of Blitzo's surprising foresight and paranoia.
For an imp who seemed so careless and crass, he clearly knew how to protect his most valuable assets.
Alastor hummed thoughtfully, his gloved finger tapping rhythmically against the screen as he studied the image. The gears in his mind turned, processing this new information, fitting it into the ever-growing puzzle that was I.M.P.
But despite that… here it was.
Still sitting out in the open.
Casually tossed aside on Loona's cluttered desk as if it were nothing more than an old notebook.
Alastor's grin twitched, stretching wider.
Well, well, well~
He tapped a gloved finger against his chin, humming in amusement. This was quite the discovery! It seemed little Loona had access to far more than she realized.
And if she was the one handling the book outside of Blitzo's prying eyes…
Then she might just be the easiest way to get what he wanted.
He chuckled under his breath, a low, buzzing sound that filled the otherwise empty room.
Technology truly was a marvel.
Without even stepping foot inside I.M.P. again, without uttering a single word to Loona, he had just learned something very important.
And now…
All he had to do was make his next move.
Alastor leaned back into the plush seat of the hotel lounge, the glow of the phone screen reflecting in his sharp crimson eyes.
His grin stretched, his mind already spinning with possibilities.
Oh, this was far too easy.
In the past, if he wanted information, he'd have to dig for it by pulling the right strings, whispering in the right ears, and even getting his hands a little dirty. But now? Now, the entire game had changed.
He hated Vox even more than he did before, the screen was his domain after all.
Shaking his head away from useless thoughts, he focused back on what was actually important.
With One well-placed illusion, a sprinkle of deception, the hellhound wouldn't even know she was being played.
He let out a low chuckle, his fingers lazily tapping against the phone as he pondered his next move.
Creating a false identity wouldn't be difficult. After all, he had spent centuries slipping in and out of different personas, weaving himself into places he had no business being.
And lucky for him, dear Loona had a type.
Strong, rugged, and dangerous.
Alastor's magic crackled faintly as he raised a hand, his fingers twitching with controlled precision.
The screen may be Vox's domain, but before there was TV there was radio. But without radio, there would not be TV and without TV… there wouldn't be smartphones.
The phone flickered for a moment, the screen glitching ever so slightly, an invisible force rewriting its very code as he molded his deception.
A new profile. A new face.
With a simple snap of his fingers, an image materialized.
A hellhound.
Not just any hellhound, of course, he was meticulous in his design.
The crimson fur was dark and sleek but with a rough, untamed edge to it. Tall, broad-shouldered, scars littering his visible skin in just the right way—not too much, just enough to tell a story.
His eyes? Sharp. A deep, piercing red, though subtly different from his own.
A hunter. A fighter.
A hellhound straight out of one of those grimy, underground fighting rings.
Loona's exact taste.
Alastor tilted his head, inspecting his work.
A masterpiece.
He entered the name, Red Death.
Ah, howdelightfullycliché.
He shook his head, sighing to himself. The things he would do for the hunt.
Next, a fabricated backstory? Simple.
Former pit fighter. Runs a gang—or maybe a lone mercenary? No, no, something a little rougher around the edges.
Both, it is.
One who doesn't play by the rules.
Oh, the bad-boy appeal was dripping off this one.
He let out an amused hum before finalizing the account.
His magic pulsed one last time, seamlessly embedding his false presence into the Hellstigram algorithm.
There would be no glitches, no inconsistencies. It would be real, as far as the system was concerned.
As far as Vox and Velvet were concerned as well.
Alastor's grin widened as he leaned further back into the plush chair, his fingers drumming idly against the phone's sleek surface.
His illusion was almost perfect, but there was one small issue.
An account, no matter how ruggedly handsome and mysterious it appeared, wouldn't be enough to immediately catch the hellhound's attention.
No, no, no.
She followed a specific kind of hellhound, ones with clout, ones with status.
A low-level, no-name account? Boring. She wouldn't even look at it twice.
Ah, but that was easily fixed.
Alastor's crimson eyes gleamed as his magic flared once more, a faint buzz of radio static crackling in the air around him.
He spread his fingers, and the screen flickered—data twisting, reshaping, rewriting itself at his command.
500,000 followers.
He added a few more touches.
A collection of believable posts and selfies, mimicking what he saw from other accounts.
A few quotable words.
"You bark; I bite. No leash. No master."
A few vague, aggressive captions:
"You fight to survive; I fight to win."
And finally, to tie it all together, fake comments.
Thousands of fabricated likes, and comments from his false followers hyping him up.
How people would post these kinds of things with utter seriousness was beyond him. He was barely holding himself back from laughing himself to another death!
All of this was nothing but smoke and mirrors.
A perfect illusion, the perfect bait.
Alastor tilted his head, admiring his handiwork. Ah, the wonders of modern deception!
With everything in place, he casually tapped the follow button once more.
Making it so that his false account would appear when she was casually scrolling through her phone, which she seemed to do often.
He liked one of her photos, for good measure.
A simple, subtle nudge.
Alastor chuckled, tossing the phone up slightly and catching it with ease.
Now, he just had to sit back and wait.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
—
Loona lay sprawled across her bed, the dull glow of her phone screen reflecting in her crimson eyes as she scrolled absentmindedly through Hellstigram.
Another fucking slow day at I.M.P., another pile of boring-ass paperwork Blitz had shoved onto her desk, and another wasted afternoon stuck inside.
The only silver lining? She had her phone.
She was barely paying attention, her thumb moving on autopilot through the endless stream of posts.
Angel Dust being a whore, some random lower-tier demons posting cringe thirst traps, Husk posting another picture of his drink with the same tired-ass caption—seriously, why did she even follow him?
Oh right, he recommended good drinks.
And then.
Her scrolling slowed.
An account she had never seen before caught her attention.
Loona narrowed her eyes, tapping the profile.
Red Death.
She didn't recognize the name, but damn, the profile was screaming her type.
Her gaze flicked over the photos—gritty, shadowed shots of a hellhound with deep red fur, sharp eyes, and scars in all the right places. His captions were short and cocky like he didn't give a shit whether people followed him or not.
Which, of course, only made him more appealing.
She scanned the follower count.
Half a million.
That was already enough to get her attention, Loona had standards, after all. No way was she dealing with some rando with like, ten followers and a profile pic taken from a shitty bathroom mirror.
The photo of him being surrounded by other hellhounds, probably his pack, left her feeling…
Anyways.
His photos had just the right level of cocky aggression, the kind of shit the underground fight ring hellhounds posted after knocking someone's teeth in.
No stupid soft boy aesthetic, no fake edgy try-hard bullshit.
Just raw, violent energy.
She smirked a little, fangs poking out as she clicked on one of the pictures. It was of him beating the shit out of a sinner trash talking him for being a hellhound.
Her tail was unknowingly wagging in excitement.
"You bark; I bite. No leash. No master."
Goddamn, that was hot.
Loona tapped her claws against the screen, debating. She wasn't the type to just follow people back for no reason, but… she wasn't not interested.
While she was debating on whether or not to follow him.
Her notifications pinged.
She blinked.
Red Death liked your post.
Heart pounding in excitement, she tapped the alert, bringing up the picture he had liked.
It was one of her better ones, a selfie from last week, with her in a black crop top, ripped fishnets, and one boot propped up against the bathroom sink. The caption had been simple:
"Felt cute. Might maul someone later. Idk."
Her tail wagged back and forth, thumping against her bed.
She exhaled sharply through her nose, eyes flicking back to his profile.