Hell was exactly what everyone expected it to be—violent, loud, and never quiet for more than five minutes. The Overlords clawed for power, turf wars painted the streets in fresh blood, and demons disappeared almost as quickly as they arrived. Yet somehow, in the middle of all the chaos, the Hazbin Hotel stood as Charlie Morningstar's impossible dream: a place where sinners could earn redemption instead of another eternity of misery. Against all odds, a handful of demons actually called the hotel home, with even the King of Hell himself stopping by far more often than anyone expected to support his daughter's cause. The newest resident, however, had brought a very different kind of chaos. Amelia hadn't declared war on Lucifer with violence or murder. Somehow, through nothing but relentless sarcasm, shameless pranks, and an ego that rivaled his own, she'd managed to become the one demon capable of making the Devil himself lose his patience.

Lucifer and Amelia got along about as well as oil and water for the most part. The only way they ever mixed was if someone shook the bottle first—and they were constantly shaking it. Every conversation became an argument, every disagreement turned into a contest of who could get the last word, and every quiet afternoon was ruined by another ridiculous prank. Smug grins never left either of their faces, fake flirting a norm, and neither of them possessed enough self-control to simply walk away. Oddly enough, neither ever crossed the line into genuine hatred. It was less a blood feud and more a never-ending competition to see who could irritate the other into snapping first, and snapping could lead to something more between the two of them. From the outside, it was hilarious entertainment. For the poor souls living in the hotel—especially Charlie—it was an exhausting daily headache.

Late morning sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows of the hotel lobby as Lucifer lay sprawled dramatically across one of the couches, one arm hanging over the side while he loudly complained to Charlie and Vaggie about the endless burden of royal responsibilities. "It's exhausting," he groaned, throwing the back of his hand across his forehead. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is being adored by an entire kingdom?"

Before Charlie could muster a response, Amelia ran down the stairs, incredibly panicked. She looked at Lucifer with a panicked glare. The silver dress she wore down to her thighs shining softly. Her heels weren't even on, making her look incredibly smaller. Her tail swayed anxiously.