The grand dining hall buzzed with the familiar hum of conversation and the clinking of cutlery against fine china. Lawrence sat among the esteemed guests, savoring the gentlemanly cuisine laid out before them—exquisite dishes that were as much a feast for the eyes as for the palate. The invitation from Queen Moon had brought a diverse crowd together: figures from the Hazbin Hotel universe mingled with dimensional merchants, royal guests, and various dignitaries. Despite the congenial atmosphere, Lawrence remained alert, his senses finely tuned.
N sat beside him, engaging in a low conversation, but Lawrence's hearing dulled to a muffled drone, his mind focused elsewhere. There was an unease gnawing at him, a subtle tremor in the fabric of the event that felt anything but coincidental. He had learned long ago that such grand affairs often concealed far darker intentions.
Without warning, Lawrence felt himself being pulled—no, no-clipped—through a sudden rift in reality. His surroundings dissolved into a blur as consciousness slipped away.
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Queen Moon, seated at the head of the table, was the first to notice his absence. "What's happened to Lawrence?" she exclaimed, panic evident in her voice.
Gilbert, the ever-present tentacle monster dimensional merchant, slithered in swiftly. His many eyes scanned the room as he muttered, "Dimensional break... What are the chances?"
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Lawrence's eyes fluttered open to a dim, yellowish glow. Dust settled on his worn clothes as he sat up, brushing the grit from his sleeves.
"F*cking hell..." he muttered under his breath, the familiar irritation of being thrust into chaos settling in.
He surveyed his surroundings. The walls warped, endless yellowish-beige corridors stretching endlessly—a perfect representation of the dreaded Backrooms.
"Come on... not the Backrooms again," Lawrence groaned.
Breaking the fourth wall, he addressed the reader directly: "If you're familiar with the Backrooms, you know it's basically a labyrinthine nightmare—endless, but not truly infinite. It's got these backup levels and strange entities lurking around. Shout out to Kane Pixels for the lore, by the way."
Lawrence stood, stretching out the stiffness from his limbs. "And here I am, stuck in this endless maze with a distress signal blaring somewhere nearby. Gilbert, if you're listening, it's me, Lawrence—rank Platinum veteran, demon bunny extraordinaire, and still battling trauma that's sharper than ever."
He shook his head. "And just so we're clear, I'm not that 'X' you keep confusing me with. The database mix-up is frustrating. No, I'm not handing out any ads or promotions here, just trying to survive."
Taking a deep breath, Lawrence moved forward, his boots echoing softly in the eerie halls. "Now all that's left is to wait. Hopefully, some poor survivor out here mistakes me for an entity and comes to save my tail."
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And with that, Lawrence disappeared deeper into the yellow haze, the backrooms swallowing him whole, leaving only the distant echoes of his gritty determination behind.
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End of Chapter 18
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