Chapter 18

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Alone on the bustling Cannibal Street once more, Alastor's thoughts swirled like a tempest, torn between the perplexing encounter and the urgency of his impending task. His steps were deliberate, each footfall a drumbeat of contemplation. The revelation of your name, being spoken is lingered in his mind, a puzzle piece that refused to fit neatly into the larger picture.

As he strolled, the chaos of his thoughts matched the chaos of his surroundings. His emotions were a tempest, an amalgamation of concern, anger, and a gnawing fear for your safety. His grip on his ever-present radio tightened, a subconscious gesture of seeking solace in its familiar presence.

The weight of responsibility bore down on him, and he couldn't shake the feeling that you were in danger. A sense of urgency gnawed at him, demanding that he find a way to reach you, to protect you from whatever peril might be lurking in the shadows.

His steps quickened as he navigated the winding streets, his mind a whirlwind of plans and worries. How would he approach you? How would he ensure your safety without revealing the depth of his own emotions? And most importantly, how would he convince you to be more cautious, to heed the lessons he himself had learned the hard way?

Alastor's journey continued, his thoughts a storm of determination and concern. The radio's soft static hummed in the background, a constant companion in his solitary endeavor. He was resolute in his mission – to ensure your safety, to offer guidance, and perhaps, to bridge the gap between your worlds, no matter the complexities that lay ahead.

Meanwhile, as he walk he spotted the hotel, Alastor had returned from his own nocturnal activities. With his signature flourish, he announced his presence with a confident declaration, "Charlie Darling, I'm back" Charlie greeted him warmly, expressing her delight at his return and informing him about the stack of paperwork waiting in his office.

The two engaged in a lengthy conversation, discussing his responsibilities and the intricacies of managing the realm. Charlie's cheerful presence was a stark contrast to the thoughts that churned within Alastor's mind. The encounter with Rosie and the mysterious woman, the echoes of their conversation, all weighed heavily on him.

"Thank you for the update, dear Charlie," Alastor finally interjected, offering her a genuine smile. "I appreciate your insights, as always. Now, if you'll excuse me, I shall attend to these matters."

He bid Charlie farewell, his steps carrying him to the elevator. As he rode the elevator to his designated floor, his thoughts swirled in a tempest of contemplation. The doors slid open, revealing the familiar hallway leading to his office. With a determined stride, he entered and settled at his desk, intending to tackle the paperwork that awaited his attention.

But try as he might, the weight of his thoughts proved too distracting. The memories of his recent interactions, the enigma about you and the disquieting conversation he had overheard all vied for his attention, making it impossible to focus on the mundane tasks before him.

"Where in nine circle of hell did they know... How the only people that know about you being his daughter is Charlie his girlfriend, Husker he won't even tell a soul about you because I know how he care about especially your safety, Niffty she won't so it's imp-" he stop in realization

"ANGEL"

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He work over night to his papers as he try to ease his nerves as he look at the time that is already 8:00 in the morning. He sigh as making a desition that it's time confront about it.

With an exasperated huff, he pushed away from his desk and strode down the hallway, his footsteps carrying him to your room. His knuckles rapped against the door, his actions mirroring the insistent knocking that had roused you from sleep.

And now, Alastor stood on the other side of the door, a figure cloaked in shadows, his presence casting an enigmatic aura over the scene. The hallway's dim light painted him in a soft, otherworldly glow, his gaze fixed on the door with a mix of determination and apprehension. His thoughts raced as he waited, knowing that the conversation ahead would be far from ordinary.

Amid the eerie stillness of the night, Alastor's patience had worn thin. His crimson eyes glinted with a fiery intensity, the usually suave and composed Radio Demon reduced to a relentless specter in the dimly lit hallway. The persistent knocking that echoed through the corridor had stirred a storm of emotions within him, emotions he was not accustomed to grappling with.

Each knock reverberated in his mind like a tolling bell, an unwelcome intrusion into the sanctuary of his thoughts. His jaw clenched, a manifestation of the growing frustration that churned within him. With each unanswered rap on the door, his ire swelled, a tempest of anger and concern. He refused to be ignored any longer.

And then, with a flicker of shadows, he was there – standing beside the door, a figure cloaked in the inky darkness of his power. His presence, an ominous silhouette against the ambient glow of the hallway, seemed almost otherworldly. The shadows that clung to him seemed to writhe and coil, a manifestation of his inner turmoil.

A low, guttural growl rumbled deep within Alastor's chest, an uncharacteristic display of his agitation. His fingers curled into tight fists, his normally calm demeanor masked by a veneer of seething anger. The anticipation in the air was palpable, his very being crackling with a tension that threatened to consume him.

With a swift, controlled movement, Alastor's knuckles collided with the door in a booming knock, a physical manifestation of his simmering emotions. His voice, laced with a raw intensity, pierced through the silence, "Open the door, Missy."

The seconds that followed seemed to stretch into an eternity, the oppressive quiet a stark contrast to the storm that raged within him. The echoes of his words reverberated, and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a symphony of emotions threatening to consume him.

His mind raced, a thousand scenarios flashing before his eyes – all the potential dangers, the risks, and the mistakes that could lead to dire consequences. He had seen the darkness of Hell, the unrelenting horrors that lurked in the shadows. He knew the price of complacency, and he was determined to ensure that his daughter did not fall victim to its clutches.

As the seconds ticked by, Alastor's expression remained a mask of controlled intensity. His anger was a tempest within him, but beneath it all, a sense of profound concern gnawed at his core. He couldn't afford to show weakness, not now.

He use his shadow to teleport his self inside his room and he see her covered herself in his blanket and surrounded with pillow he walk at side of her bed he look at her for a moment.

As I yanked her cover away, she gasped, sitting up in surprise, as her heart racing. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, she found me staring down at her, my expression etched with anger and frustration.

"WHAT TH--" she started, her protest is been cut short as I give her glare that she always know not to mess with. Her expression turn into confusion mixed with guilt as I met her gaze, desperately trying to decipher what she might have done to warrant this unexpected wake-up call.

My voice was low, measured, and laced with displeasure. "You. And. I. Need. To. Talk. Little. Missy." I am sure by the use of, 'Missy,' sent a shiver down her spine. It was a name she always reserved for moments when she had truly crossed the line, moments when her actions had disappointed me to the core.

She even mustered a feeble attempt at innocence, giving me her best wide-eyed, 'What did I do?' expression. In the past, it might have earned her a reprieve, but this time, it won't work on me.

"You have one hour and thirty minutes to prepare and be in my office," I informed her, my tone reverting to its usual businesslike demeanor. Just as I turned to leave, my hand resting on the doorknob, I glanced back at her over my shoulder, my voice dropping to a chilling whisper. "And don't even think about escaping, Missy. You know better than to make me resort to measures you won't like."

As the door clicked shut as I live, I could hear a rashing foot steps in her room. I just ignore it and start to walk back to my office.

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