The early light of dawn crept through the crimson-tinted gadriens, casting a soft glow across the room. Y/N groaned as she stirred from her slumber, the weight of the night's events pressing upon her. She sat up slowly, her naked body aching as if it had been stretched to its limits, and rubbed her head with a sigh. Her thoughts were a tumult of passion and confusion.

"Fuck me," she murmured, the words slipping from her lips like a desperate prayer to the gods of pleasure.

Alastor emerged from the shadows, fully dressed as if the night had never happened. Not a trace of the carnality that had transpired remained on his person. It was as if the fabric of time had been sewn shut, leaving no evidence of the raw, primal act that had claimed them both.

Y/N flinched, the stark contrast of his attire jolting her back to reality. "Jeez, Alastor, you scared me," she said, her voice a mix of annoyance and vulnerability. "It doesn't even seem like you took me last night."

He stepped closer, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he took her hand. "Sorry for such an unfulfilling night?" He chuckled softly, the sound a velvet caress in the silence of the room. "Dear, I quite enjoyed it. You were tighter than any cunt I've ever had. Smile," he added, brushing a gentle thumb against her cheek.

Y/N's cheeks burned with a blush as she stepped away from his embrace, wrapping herself in a shawl that had been discarded on the floor. She walked down the hallway, feeling the weight of his gaze on her bare body until she reached the sanctuary of her own room. Inside, she found Husk and the feline demon, both watching her with knowing eyes.

"You okay, kid?" Husk asked, his voice filled with concern.

Y/N nodded, the facade of indifference barely holding. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just going to find some clothes," she replied, her voice a mere whisper of its usual vibrancy.

As she disappeared into her room, Husk couldn't help but let out a sigh. "Her heart is breaking, and she doesn't even realize it," he mused to the demon, who flicked an ear in response. "Poor kid."

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As the afternoon sun began to cast shadows across the Hotel Inferno, Y/n descended from her chamber, her feet whispering against the velvety crimson carpet that lined the grand staircase. She had chosen to adorn herself in a tasteful patterned shirt that clung to her curves in all the right places, and a choker necklace that emphasized the delicate structure of her collarbone. Her attire emanated an air of stylish nonchalance, a trendy vibe that was a stark contrast to the tension that had begun to suffuse the hotel's atmosphere.

The lobby was tense, the very air seeming to vibrate with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Angel Dust was already there, lounging in one of the luxurious armchairs, his eyes cast downward, avoiding any contact with Y/n. He didn't acknowledge her, not even a nod of the head or a murmur of greeting. His indifference was palpable, a wall that she felt rather than saw.

In the midst of this taut silence, Alastor strolled in, his charismatic presence a sudden burst of color in the otherwise subdued scene.

"Alastor," he announced with a flourish, his voice as smooth as the whiskey he often indulged in, "what delightful plans have you all concocted for this fine evening?"

The room remained eerily quiet, as if the very walls were holding their breath.

Y/n, feeling the weight of the unspoken accusations and the heat of unresolved tension, decided to seek refuge in the bar. She approached Husk, the bartender, and requested something potent, her voice betraying a hint of the turmoil that roiled within her. He prepared the drink with an air of silent understanding, sliding it across the counter towards her without a word. As she took the glass, their fingers brushed, sending a jolt of something unidentifiable through her. He offered her a sad smile, one that spoke volumes of his own tumultuous emotions.

Without wasting another moment, she downed the drink in one swift motion and turned on her heel, leaving the hotel's confines in search of the solace that the outside world might provide.

The moment the door clicked shut behind her, Angel Dust whipped around to face Alastor, his eyes flashing with a fury that could've set the hotel ablaze.

"How could you," he hissed, his voice a serrated knife cutting through the air, "you fucked her!"

Alastor blinked, feigned ignorance playing upon his features.

"Do what, my dear Angel?" he asked, his tone deceptively calm.

Angel's hand shot up, and his eyes narrowed to slits.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," he spat, "why should you be the one to taste her sweetness and not us?"

Alastor's smile grew wicked, a knowing glint in his eyes.

"She loves me," he said with a shrug, as if that simple fact was explanation enough.

The room held its breath as Charlie stepped in, placing a gentle hand on Angel's trembling arm to restrain him.

"Easy, Angel," she soothed, her voice a soft melody amidst the cacophony of anger, "it's not worth it."

She turned to Alastor, her gaze piercing his smug façade.

"But she's right," Charlie said, her voice firm yet measured, "how could you do that without asking?"

Alastor's expression softened, a sigh escaping his lips.

"I would never take such liberties against her will, my dear," he assured her, his eyes dropping to the floor briefly before meeting hers again, "you can trust me on that."

Vaggie rolled her eyes at his words, pushing herself away from the bar with a sigh.

"I'm going to find her," she said, her voice laced with a hint of accusation, "I can't stand this."

With that, she swept out of the room, her long hair trailing behind her like a storm cloud.

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The desolate garden was a stark contrast to the vibrant scene of the night before. The once-blooming roses had withered away, their crimson petals scattered like the shattered dreams of a lost soul. The silence was deafening, only pierced by the occasional rustle of leaves as they danced in the somber breeze. Y/n stood among the decay, her gaze lingering on the decayed foliage, lost in thought. The sun had barely begun to rise, casting long shadows across the barren earth.

Vaggie emerged from the shadows, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and curiosity. "Hey, Y/n, are you okay?" she called out softly, approaching the distraught draogness.

Y/n took a moment to gather herself before responding, her voice trembling slightly. "I guess I am," she said, her words trailing off into the early morning air.

Vaggie sat down next to her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Did you really want to... with Alastor last night, or did he force you?" she asked, her eyes searching for the truth.

Y/n shook her head, her voice strained. "No, I wanted him. We were playing a game, some kind of bet. I didn't want him to win," she revealed, her voice cracking as she broke off into sobs.

Vaggie's eyes grew soft with empathy. She pulled Y/n into a warm embrace, feeling the draogness's heart beating against her chest. "Oh, Y/n," she murmured soothingly.

Y/n wept into Vaggie's shirt, her tears dampening the fabric as she tried to find the words to explain herself. "I-I'm sorry," she stammered through her sobs, "it's my fault, I let him... I can't do this anymore."

Vaggie tightened her hold, her heart aching for her friend. "No, no, dear, it wasn't you," she assured her, "it was Alastor. He's the one who did this."

Y/n took a deep, shuddering breath and pulled away, wiping at her eyes. She stood with a newfound resolve, her wings unfurling dramatically behind her. "I'm leaving," she announced, her voice firm.

Vaggie's body stiffened. "Why?" she asked, her voice thick with unshed tears. "Someone loves you, you can't just leave us."

Y/n looked back at her, a steely glint in her eyes. "I am leaving," she said firmly. "It's no good for me here."

With that, she took to the skies, her powerful wings slicing through the air as she ascended. Vaggie watched her go, the weight of the moment settling heavily upon her shoulders. She knew she had to let Y/n find her own path, but the thought of her leaving filled her with a profound sadness.

The garden was left in silence once more, the only reminder of their conversation the fading echo of Y/n's parting words. "Good luck," she had said, before disappearing into the horizon.

Vaggie remained there, clutching her own tears back, feeling the coldness seep into her bones as she contemplated the future without her dear friend. But she knew that she had to be strong, for the sake of the hotel and those who remained. With a heavy heart, she turned and made her way back to the Hotel Oblivion, the once-thriving sanctuary now feeling eerily empty.