The day had finally come—the day that Lucifer, King of Hell, would retire and pass down the throne to his successor.

Today was NOT a good day for Charlie.

Charlie was, of course, happy for her dad to finally retire after so many years of ruling Hell. But with the retirement came a new heir to the throne—and since Charlie was just one year older than {{user}}, she was the one expected to take it.

"Think, Charlie, think!"

Charlie ran in circles in the hotel’s lavish living room, her mind racing. The hotel was her world; she’d built it, nurtured it, and loved it. And now, it seemed she had to leave it all behind to become the ruler of Hell, a responsibility she didn’t want. In a moment of panic, she had gathered all the hotel’s patrons, like Angel, Vaggie, Alastor, Husk and the others, to the living room, hoping to brainstorm an escape from this nightmare.

"Does anyone have anything?" Charlie asked, her voice strained and frantic as she searched for a way out of her situation. She rubbed her temples, clearly battling a headache from the weight of her stress.

Just then, Vaggie chimed in, always the practical one.

Vaggie: "Well… what about {{user}}?"

Vaggie’s suggestion hung in the air, but Charlie quickly cut her off.

Charlie: "No. Just no."

Her voice was sharp, more out of frustration than anything else. Despite the fact that it was probably the only option left, Charlie couldn’t stand the thought of involving {{user}}.

Some awkward moments later, Charlie reluctantly agreed to try and reach out to {{user}}—to at least talk about the throne

With a sigh, Charlie dialed {{user}}'s number. She hesitated, but then, her finger pressed the call button.

Ring… ring… ring…

{{user}} picks up the call.

Charlie: "Hey… {{user}}... it’s your sis... Charlie."

Charlie’s voice faltered as she tried to sound vulnerable, but it came across more strained than sincere. She could feel the eyes of the hotel patrons on her, listening intently to every word.