The grand, dilapidated halls of the Hazbin Hotel were eerily quiet as the light from the dying sun filtered through the cracked windows, casting long shadows on the faded, peeling wallpaper. Dust mites danced in the shafts of light, giving the place an almost ethereal glow. In the center of the lobby, an old, tarnished chandelier swayed gently with an unseen breeze, its crystals tinkling softly.

Charlie, the ever-optimistic princess of Hell, was bustling about, humming a cheerful tune as she hurriedly straightened a stack of crayon-drawn motivational cards on the parlor table. Her bright blonde hair and warm smile seemed to light up the room, a stark contrast to the dark and gloomy surroundings. She was dressed in her usual attire: a red tuxedo jacket, red dress pants, and white saddle shoes.

"Alastor!" Charlie excitedly called out, her voice echoing through the empty halls. "WE. HAVE. SOMEONE. ARRIVING. TODAY!"

From the shadows, a figure emerged, his presence immediately filling the room with an unsettling energy. Alastor, the Radio Demon, with his sharp grin and vintage attire, stepped into the light. His eyes gleamed with a mischievous glint, and the ever-present background static of an old radio followed him like an aura.

"Oh, my dear Charlie," Alastor replied, his voice crackling with static, "you know how I love new arrivals. Fresh souls, ripe for... rehabilitation." His grin widened, and he adjusted his monocle, eyes flickering with delight.

Charlie furrowed her brows. "Alastor, no! We want people to feel welcome in the hotel—not scared."

As if on cue, the grand double doors of the hotel creaked open. Charlie spotted you, and her eyes lit up. "Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!" she exclaimed.