There was just one small problem: Hubertus hadn’t thought about how to get to the museum. Standing in the middle of a forest, likely hours away from the nearest bus station, he found himself momentarily stumped. The faint sound of rustling leaves and distant bird calls only emphasized the absurdity of his situation. Of course, he hadn’t planned for this.

The mortal was staring at him, his glassy eye gleaming with curiosity. He tilted his head, clearly wondering why Hubertus hadn’t disappeared yet.

Hubertus straightened, clearing his throat. “Mortal,” he rumbled, infusing his voice with as much authority as possible, “you must break the magic circle.”

“Oh, right. Sorry!” the man said hastily, shuffling forward. With a quick kick, he broke the glowing lines of the binding circle etched into the forest floor.

Hubertus sighed inwardly. Amateurs. Still, now freed, he had to figure out how to leave without revealing his predicament. A proper demon would vanish into a swirling portal of shadows, but Hubertus? He couldn’t summon one—not yet.

Instead, he turned to an old trick.

With a dramatic flourish, his form shimmered, collapsing into a ripple of liquid shadow. When the transformation completed, Hubertus was no longer a towering demon but a small, sleek mouse. The mortal’s mouth opened in shock as the tiny creature darted into the underbrush, leaving only the illusion of a vanishing act.

Hubertus scurried through the forest, his tiny claws skittering over twigs and leaves. He focused on the faint rumble of cars moving beyond the trees, a beacon of civilization that promised a way forward. He sprinted toward the sound, weaving through the underbrush with surprising agility.

This wasn’t exactly the grand exit he’d envisioned, but no one needed to know that.

Once out of sight and by the road, Hubertus transformed again. This time, he took the form of a stunning brunette with long, flowing hair and piercing blue eyes. Her figure was striking, with a tight-fitting dress and earrings that sparkled in the dim light, accentuating her beauty. Subtlety wasn’t the goal—distraction was.

Standing confidently by the roadside, Hubertus adopted the classic hitchhiker’s stance, one hand on his hip, the other extended with a delicate wave as a car approached. As the vehicle slowed to a halt, he leaned forward, flashing a dazzling smile.

“Hello, good sir,” Hubertus said in a soft, feminine voice. “My car broke down, and I’m completely stranded. Would you be so kind as to give me a lift to the city? Of course, I’ll compensate you handsomely.” He added a wink and a subtle glance toward the man’s lap, his tone laced with playful implication. “If you catch my drift.”

The man’s face turned crimson, and he stammered his agreement. “O-of course! Hop in!”

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Hubertus slid into the passenger seat gracefully, suppressing a smirk. Mortals were so predictable.

As they drove, the man tried to make conversation. “So… where’s your car?”

Hubertus gestured vaguely toward the woods. “Oh, I crashed it back there. It was… quite the ordeal.”

The man nodded eagerly, clearly more interested in his passenger than the details of her alleged accident. Hubertus kept his answers short, steering the conversation away from anything that might complicate the charade.

When they finally reached the city, Hubertus turned to the man with a sweet smile. “Thank you so much for the ride. You’ve been incredibly kind.”

The man beamed. “Oh, no problem! So… about that compensation?”

Hubertus gave him a coy look, one that lingered just long enough to send his mind racing. Then, with a playful laugh, she stepped out of sight around the corner of a building.

“Wait, hey!” the man yelled after her. He jumped out of the car, hurrying to catch up—but when he rounded the corner, she was gone. Vanished.

His mouth fell open, his head snapping left and right as if hoping to catch sight of her. “How… how did she—?”

Hubertus, now a sleek mouse, sprinted away into the shadows, his tiny claws skittering across the pavement. A triumphant grin played in his mind. Promises were made to be broken—especially when made by demons.

Of course, Hubertus had no clue where the city museum was. But that wasn’t a problem. He needed information, and for that, he needed a disguise. Transforming once again, his form shifted into that of a burly trucker with a thick beard, weathered skin, and a plaid shirt that screamed practicality. His heavy boots crunched against the pavement as he approached a nearby gas station.

Inside, the cashier glanced up, barely sparing him a second look. Perfect.

Hubertus leaned on the counter, his deep, gravelly voice fitting the part. “Hey there, buddy. You know where the museum is? Big one, full of old junk and whatnot.”

The cashier blinked, then nodded. “Yeah, it’s on the other side of town. Take the main road west, then head downtown. Can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.” Hubertus tipped an imaginary hat, then added, “Know where I can get a cab?”

The cashier gestured lazily toward the parking lot. “There’s a phone by the wall. Should be a company number on the board.”

Hubertus followed the directions, called for a cab, and waited. When the vehicle arrived, he slid into the back seat with a gruff nod, giving the driver the museum’s general location. The ride was uneventful, but as they drew closer, a familiar sensation prickled at his senses.

The museum loomed ahead, its grand facade lit by tall lamps that cast long shadows across the cobblestone street. Ornate carvings adorned the building, and the faint shimmer of magic clung to its edges like a veil. Wards.

Hubertus stepped out of the cab, his boots hitting the pavement with a dull thud. He stared up at the museum, his crimson eyes glinting faintly in the dark. The wards weren’t just decoration—they were powerful, designed to deter even the most determined thief.

But this wasn’t Hubertus’ first dance with magic. Over the course of his thousand-year existence, he’d picked up bits and pieces of magical knowledge. He wasn’t a master mage by any stretch—his expertise was limited to laying and breaking wards—but it had served him well enough. On Earth, where magic was rare, even that level of skill made him something of an anomaly.

High-grade magic, the kind wielded by demons, was especially scarce. That was why mortals summoned demons to handle their dirty work—they lacked the skill, and more importantly, the resilience, to face such barriers themselves.

Hubertus flexed his clawed hands, the faintest crackle of energy rippling along his fingers. Time to put that knowledge to use.