The days that followed at the Hazbin Hotel passed wrapped in an uneasy calm—the kind that brings not peace, but anticipation. Sunset stained the lobby windows a thick, almost bloody red, while incense smoke mingled with the persistent aroma of freshly brewed coffee. The hotel breathed... and watched.
Ñakariy walked the corridors without hurry, the echo of his steps striking marble like a constant reminder of his presence. Eyes fixed on him: some filled with fear, others with disdain. No one bothered to hide it.
Only two people seemed unflinching in his shadow.
Lucifer, leaning elegantly against a column, watched him with unsettling calm. Beside him, Charlie held a steaming cup between her hands.
"Let him stay, sweetheart," Lucifer said in his soft tone. "There's more to him than everyone thinks. Intimidating as he is... he carries an ancient pain. One that doesn't wash away with shouting or threats."
Charlie nodded slowly, looking at him with that stubborn tenderness that defined her. "I know, Dad. When I look at him... I don't just see a demon."
In the common room, the atmosphere was very different.
Alastor sat with his back straight, smile intact. Vaggie paced back and forth with crossed arms, visibly uncomfortable. Husk drank without looking up much. Angel Dust and Cherry Bomb shared nervous laughter, while Niffty obsessively scrubbed the same spot on the floor.
"I don't get what Lucifer sees in him," Vaggie muttered. "That guy's a monster."
Angel Dust clicked his tongue. "He scares me more than Valentino... and that's saying something."
Husk grunted, raising his glass. "I don't trust anyone who walks like the world owes them something."
Niffty, without stopping her cleaning, whispered, "He's... terrifying..."
Alastor let out a low, almost musical laugh. "Oh, my dear friends... it's not terror that emanates from him. It's something far more exquisite. That demon is suffering made flesh."
From the adjacent hallway, hidden in the shadows, Ñakariy heard every word. And something inside him cracked.
The word *monster* echoed in his mind like a dull blow. The murmurs transformed, slowly, into distant laughter... childish laughter.
The hotel's warmth vanished for an instant, replaced by scorching sun and a dry dirt courtyard. He saw old backpacks, worn shoes... and heard voices.
*Weak.*
*Weird.*
*Nobody wants you around.*
His hands clenched slowly. The marble beneath his feet was gone. In its place, he felt the dust of a schoolyard in Lima sticking to his knees. He remembered hugging himself, wishing to disappear.
A blink was enough to bring him back.
Ñakariy straightened, breathing hard, and continued walking to the hotel's main courtyard.
There, the scene was almost cruel.
Lucifer laughed openly while holding a small rubber duck that spat tiny flames.
"Look, Charlie. I improved it," he said. "Now it jumps too."
The duck bounced on the grass, leaving a faint scent of ash. Charlie clapped, eyes bright.
"It's perfect, Dad!"
The sound of her laughter was the final trigger.
Ñakariy's chest tightened. That laughter... that warmth... reminded him of something that no longer existed.
The smell of grass mixed with another aroma: freshly baked bread.
He felt arms wrap around him.
*"My son... I will always protect you."*
The voice was soft, firm. The memory of Rosita. His mother. The only place where the world didn't hurt.
Ñakariy turned his face, clenching his teeth. The duck jumped again, and the sound of fire brought him back to the present like a whip.
Niffty ran across the courtyard, cleaning frantically. The gleam she left behind reminded him of another scene: a modest room, an open window, an afternoon breeze.
A child slept deeply, trusting.
*It doesn't matter if it's a boy or a girl... I just want to protect them.*
The thought returned on its own, uninvited.
Ñakariy closed his eyes a second too long.
A burst of laughter exploded nearby.
"Check this out, bitch!" Cherry Bomb shouted.
The little bomb burst with a crackle. Gunpowder smell. Laughter.
The sharp sound transported him to different laughter—freer.
A soccer ball rolling down a wet street. Sun reflecting in puddles. César yelling that the goal didn't count.
Shoves. Falls. Real laughter.
The memory shattered when he heard a whisper nearby.
"I don't know what I'd do without you..."
Charlie and Vaggie embraced under the orange glow of sunset. The kiss was soft, honest. And devastating.
The void opened completely.
The scent of flowers invaded his mind. A garden. A warm afternoon.
"I can't wait to have children," she said, smiling.
Eliana.
"I love you... always," he replied.
The memory wasn't kind this time. It was a direct blow to the soul.
Ñakariy stepped back. Then another step.
He retreated to a secluded corner of the courtyard. His hands trembled as he brought them to his helmet.
For an instant, he removed it.
The face revealed wasn't that of a demon. It was an exhausted man, with eyes marked by the pain of too many lives lost.
"I miss you..." he whispered, barely audible.
The smoke, the aromas, the laughter... everything swirled around him.
He placed the helmet back with a sharp movement.
The mask fell back into place.
The demon of suffering remained standing.
But the echo of the man he once was... had never truly left.