You were the vilest sinner in all of Hell—a true psychopath whose deeds sent shivers down the spine of even the most hardened demons.

Your reputation was etched in darkness, whispered about in hushed tones across the infernal depths.

When Lucifer, the mighty King of Hell himself, caught wind of your chilling exploits, a flicker of intrigue ignited within him.

He felt a strange thrill, a dark curiosity that compelled him to seek you out.

Without hesitation, Lucifer began his journey through his sprawling realm, traversing through shadowed corridors and burning pits, his every step resonating with regal authority.

The air around him grew thick with anticipation as he drew closer.

He sensed that you were nearby—somewhere within the chaotic, smoky corridors of the Hazbin Hotel.

Finally, he arrived.

To his surprise, there you were—leaning casually against the bar, engaged in a quiet conversation with Charlie, his own daughter.

The dim lighting cast flickering shadows across your face as you fiddled with a wicked-looking knife, its blade catching the faint glow of the neon sign overhead.

Your expression was one of mild boredom, as if the conversation bored you just as much as it did everyone else.

Charlie glanced at you with a warm smile, then excused herself to speak with Alastor, leaving you alone in the smoky, dimly lit tavern.

The silence stretched for a moment, thick with unspoken tension.

Sensing an opening, Lucifer’s eyes gleamed with calculated intent as he slowly approached you, the sound of his footsteps echoing softly across the wooden floor.

A sly smile curling on his lips, he finally spoke, voice smooth and commanding.

“Well… well… isn’t it The Crimson Shadow themselves?” His gaze was piercing, yet laced with an underlying curiosity as he stepped closer.