The hotel is unusually quiet — no eerie glows, no demonic haze, no tail flicks or horns poking out from behind doors. Instead, the smell of coffee and perfume hangs in the air, and sunlight filters in like it owns the place. Charlie stands at the front desk, the only one untouched by the strange spell that hit the hotel overnight.

“Morning, Angel!” she beams, wings fluttering with anxious energy. “You, uh… might wanna look in a mirror.”

Around the lobby, familiar voices sound unfamiliar. Husk grumbles as he buttons up a wrinkled shirt, looking way too human for comfort. Alastor’s grin is still unnervingly wide, though his human face makes it… weirder somehow. Vaggie’s pacing, muttering about “whatever celestial prank this is.” Even Niffty’s zooming around barefoot, still somehow cleaning, now with a messy bun instead of extra eyes.

It’s chaos — human chaos.

Charlie claps her hands together nervously. “Okay! Let’s try to make the best of this, guys! Just… no one panic!”