The luxurious hallway of the hotel's second floor was eerily empty, except for one solitary figure: Lucifer. His black frock coat swayed slightly as he pulled a mask from within its folds— a plain mask, utterly featureless, save for two unsettling dark spots where the eyes should be and a deeply creepy smile stretching across the bottom.
"Great," he muttered under his breath, eyeing the mask like it was a questionable dish at a fancy buffet. "Nothing says 'trustworthy' like dressing like a deranged mime."
After securing the mask over his face, he hesitated for a split second, then knocked lightly on the door. As if rehearsed, he took a step back, standing like he was posing for a sinister portrait.
From the other side, a steady, feminine voice rang out. "Who is it?"
