Like A Dark Paradise (A Hazbin Hotel story)

The Doll of New Orleans

A/N: So I decided to try something different to balance out the plot and backstory. It's not very linear so there's going to be times like these where chapters will suddenly have a break from the main storyline. I'll add a disclaimer just in case so that you don't get too confused.

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["There once was a time where I met this peculiar young woman dressed in delicate, ornate clothing. From a single glance, I could tell she was not from around here. She was not like any of the women I've met. She was... different. However, from the moment I had laid my eyes on her, I felt this unusual sensation in my chest... Something that I've never experienced before in my life."]

["This was the initial start of this becoming romance... A romance... that I never asked for."]

["The story began in 1923... in my early days when I was a well-renowned radio talk show host."]

...

Another lovely afternoon in New Orleans. The mild weather, the bustling city life, the upbeat music from street to street; nothing was out of the ordinary. Well, not completely. Somewhere in the lively city, there was a certain talk show host that people would easily recognise just by his voice alone. Each day, he would greet the fellow patrons that passed by. The moment they recognized his voice, it would strike up a small conversation which sometimes ends with them asking for an autograph. The ladies, on the other hand, were a different story.

During his leisure stroll to the radio station, he spotted a group of women giggling and waving at him like a bunch of schoolgirls. To them, he was recognisable by his dashing looks and his charming smile. He was a man they would fantasize about for hours and who could blame them? This man is well aware of his charisma and charms towards the opposite gender and he's certainly not complaining about it. He could very well take it as a compliment. As he waved back at the group, the women smiled and squealed with glee, prattling about how handsome he looks.

He sighed. Well that didn't take much to spark up a reaction. How dull.

On his way to his studio, he heard a loud cry not far from where he is. From a distance, the man could see a few boys laughing mischievously as they ran. One of them had a parasol in their hands while the rest heckled the person they were running from.

"Please give that back!" a woman cried. "That's my precious parasol!"

To no avail, they continued their little game of keep-away as they laughed and taunted the woman chasing them. She was desperate to retrieve it but her clothes didn't make it any easier. Just as the young woman nearly managed to come remotely close to them, her foot caught the hem of the dress, which caused her to fall flat on her face. The group of boys stopped momentarily to tease the woman one last time before running off again.

The man shook his head in disappointment. How unruly of them. Do they have no respect for adults whatsoever? Might as well lend a hand. He hates seeing a woman cry. Without much effort, he grabbed the boy holding the parasol by the arm, tugging them to the front as he made a noise.

"Now what do you think you're doing, young man?" he questioned. "Clearly, that doesn't belong to you."

"N-no, sir," the small boy answered. "It's just a game we were playing."

"Well, it's not a game to take other people's stuff." The man knelt down to the boy's level, holding his hand out in a calm and patient manner. "Now why don't you give that parasol to me and let me take care of the rest?"

"Wait why?"

"Grown up stuff," he stated. Without any further questions, the little boy handed over the parasol to the man. The man then smiled at the boy and tossed the parasol over to his other hand. "Now run along somewhere and don't let me catch you doing bad again."