Hubertus glanced at the crumpled piece of paper in his sweaty hands, the number 998 glaring back at him in bold, black ink. He let out a long sigh, slumping further into the uncomfortable chair.

The waiting room was a chaotic blend of eerie and mundane—walls pulsated faintly with glowing runes, but the flickering fluorescent lights above gave it the vibe of a dingy DMV. Demons of all shapes and sizes filled the room, some tapping their claws impatiently on armrests, others scrolling through glowing, ethereal devices that looked like twisted versions of smartphones.

“Next,” boomed a voice over the crackling speaker, the sound echoing off the stone walls. Hubertus looked up as the glowing screen flashed 667.

Hubertus groaned. “667? How long is this going to take?” he muttered, glancing at Carl, who was reclining in the seat next to him, looking entirely unbothered.

Carl didn’t even open his eyes. “Oh, quit complaining. The Abyss is timeless, after all. What’s an hour or two in the grand scheme of eternity?”

Hubertus scowled. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one holding 998.” He held up the paper for emphasis.

Carl finally opened one fiery eye, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re lucky. Last time I did this, I got 1313. Took them a full century to call my number.”

“A century?” Hubertus shot him an incredulous look.

Carl chuckled. “Relax. They’re running ahead today. Shouldn’t be more than, what… three or four days?”

Hubertus groaned again, leaning back into the spiked chair as another demon trudged toward the door marked 667. “This place is hell,” he muttered under his breath.

Carl smirked. “Welcome to the business, kid.”

After what felt like an eternity, the screen finally flashed 998. Hubertus let out a long breath of relief, rising from his chair and stretching his stiff legs.

“About time,” he muttered, glancing at Carl, who gave him an exaggerated thumbs-up.

They stepped into an office that struck Hubertus as eerily familiar. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, and a desk piled high with paperwork dominated the center of the room. It reminded him uncomfortably of the tax office he’d once visited—a memory he’d tried very hard to forget.

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Behind the desk sat a creature that defied logic. The office lady was a strange blend of cat and owl, her feathered head swiveling unnervingly as she adjusted a pair of horn-rimmed glasses perched on her beak. Her horns curled into the shape of a heart, and she had fur-lined claws that tapped rhythmically on a glowing ledger.

“Welcome, sweetheart,” she cooed, her voice a silky purr that somehow managed to sound both comforting and unsettling. “What can I do for you?”

Carl stepped forward confidently. “I need you to register this freshly fleshed-out demon. He’s my new apprentice.”

The office lady’s head tilted a full ninety degrees as she studied Hubertus, her glowing owl eyes blinking slowly. “Oh, hi, Carl,” she said, her tone shifting to casual familiarity. “I see, I see—you’ve got yourself another apprentice. What happened to the last one?”

“Eternal damnation,” Carl replied with a shrug.

“Ah, too bad,” the office lady said, nodding sympathetically. “I thought that one might hold on a little longer.”

Carl grinned, his sharp teeth glinting. “Not in this kind of business.”

The office lady clicked her tongue—well, her beak—and nodded again, her clawed fingers flipping open a large, glowing book that seemed to pulse faintly with energy. “Alright, then. Let’s get the paperwork sorted.”

As the office lady finished up the tedious paperwork, Hubertus rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the weight of it all.

“Alright,” she said, her melodic voice cutting through the mundane atmosphere. “With the formalities out of the way, we can move on to registering you in the system.”

Before Hubertus could respond, a small, gleaming needle materialized in her clawed hand. She reached for his demon hand without hesitation.

“Hey! What are you trying to do?” Hubertus jerked slightly, his voice tinged with alarm.

“Relax, sweetheart,” she purred, her heart-shaped horns glowing faintly. “Just need a small droplet of blood. Standard procedure.”

Hubertus eyed her warily but ultimately let it happen, wincing slightly as the needle pricked his darkened skin.

The demoness collected the droplet of blood and turned to a strange device on her desk—a machine that looked like it was cobbled together from bone and obsidian, its interior filled with whirling serpents made of pulsing light. She deposited the blood onto a tiny pedestal, and the glowing serpents surged forward, consuming the droplet greedily.

The machine hummed to life, and after a few tense moments, a cheerful ding sounded, starkly out of place in the eerie office.

“Welcome to the Abyss, kid,” the demoness said with a grin, her glowing eyes narrowing playfully.

Hubertus flexed his hand, still staring at the machine with unease. “That’s it? I’m in?”

“Yup,” she replied, leaning back in her chair. “If you want your welcome packet, just step through that portal.”

She snapped her claws, and a swirling portal appeared in the corner of the room, its edges shimmering with molten gold.

Carl gave the demoness a nod. “Thanks, as always.”

“Take care of this one, Carl,” she said with a sly smile. “He looks like he might last longer than the others.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Carl quipped, already heading toward the portal.

Hubertus hesitated, glancing back at the machine with its now-dormant serpents. “That thing isn’t going to, I don’t know, eat me later, right?”

The demoness let out a melodious laugh. “Not unless you give it a reason to, sweetheart.”

With a sigh, Hubertus followed Carl into the swirling portal. The sensation was immediate—like stepping into liquid fire, both overwhelming and oddly invigorating.

And then, they were gone.