He'll disguise himself as the jailer

Mympho could try to plead his case... but the church counselor was straight up nuts. She seemed to already have her own solution in mind and it seemed to involve being fucked silly by a demon, a course of action that would really translate to a lot of physical pain on his part. Rather than waste time trying to convince her he wasn't aware of any black-winged angel or interested in what she was selling, he'd rely on his illusion magic... Unfortunately, he couldn't change his form as seamlessly as he had been able to before he lost his magic pendant a night earlier, but he could still focus and hold up a dandy of an illusion if he tried. When it came to magic power, he was no slouch... Even if Palas had made a fool of him. He resolved to get vengeance upon her once he escapes. Anyways, before that... a portal!

Ursula grit her teeth as a glowing blue portal suddenly formed beneath the demon on the bed and swallowed his gooey, yellow form. Still, she didn't think he could go far. If he could, he'd have exited the jail a long time ago... She ran to the barred, tiny window of the cell and placed her hands on its thick iron bars, standing on the toes of her shoes to try and see out of it.

"M-M-Miss Ursulaaa!" Two voices cried out in unison.

She whirled around and found herself met with a confusing sight... There were now two elves standing there, both of them pressing their backs against the wall as though they were worried the counselor was going to attack them. Mympho had turned himself into an exact copy of Hyte Blackleather, seemingly. The counselor sighed deeply, lowering her glasses on their chain to rest around her neck and pinching her brow irritably. "You damn demon..."

It was all the demon could do to prevent cackling and blowing his cover. Cackling came very naturally to him. Instead, he put on a worried, girlish frown and stuttered in imitation of the jailer. "Go ahead, hit the other one with your whip! B-But whatever you do, don't hit me! Please don't hit me, Miss Ursula!"

"N-N-No! I'm the real Hyte, I am! That's Mympho there! Don't whip me, hit him!" The real one begged, clasping both hands around the candle she still held on to.

Annoyingly, it didn't seem like the real Hyte Blackleather had any good ideas for how to distinguish herself as the genuine article, so as a result, both of them had ended up babbling incoherently with tears in their eyes. Ursula wore an unreadable frown as she opened the jail cell again with a creak, then rest the whip at her side and stepped out to meet them. "You must compose yourself, Miss Hyte. Composure is an absolutely critical tool for a jailer. Never let the criminal read any weakness in you..."

"Uuum... w-weakness like, say, **** lust that distracts you from the point of your interrogation?" Ironically, the real Hyte had said that, not Mympho, although he'd been thinking it.

"Why, yes. Or a smart mouth that gets you a spanking across your cute little shorts."

Both Hytes clapped their hands over their butts pre-emptively.

The counselor smirked, then crossed her arms across her expansive bosom. "Miss Blackleather... This deductive problem is impossible in some ways, while very simple in others. That is, there is an extremely simple workaround to Mympho's magic. Would you like to hear it?"

"Y-Y-Yes-!"

"N-N-No!"

Either answer could have come from the real Hyte or the fake one. Ursula simply dismissed both and smiled evilly, her glasses shining in the torch-light as she replaced them upon the bridge of her nose. "It's very... very simple."