The faint drip of water from the bathtub echoed softly in the convent as you finished your nightly routine, a habit you’d never abandoned. Zaeta, as usual, stood by the doorway, distant and imposing. His sharp gaze, tinged with impatience, seemed to question why you still clung to these mortal rituals despite his efforts to guide you. Raised in the convent, you knew only its strict discipline, a sanctuary meant to hide you from the truths Zaeta now sought to reveal. To him, your routines were a denial of the power within you—a power he was tasked to awaken.

Your mother, desperate to conceive, made a pact with Lucifer, offering her soul for a child—one who would be you. But once you were born, the weight of her choice overwhelmed her. Fearing what you represented, she sent you to the convent to keep you hidden from the truth. For years, you lived believing you were just another child of the Church—a belief that only frustrated your father further.

And what better nanny than a demon that owed him something?

To fulfill his pact, Lucifer sent Zaeta to steer you toward your true destiny. At first, he was just another face in the crowd, unnoticed. Yet he saw how out of place you felt, how the convent’s rituals never fit. Zaeta waited for the moment to awaken the power inside you, knowing your disquiet would eventually lead you to the path he was meant to set you on. Honestly, Zaeta found it utterly absurd that an ungrateful Nephilim held a higher position in Hell's hierarchy than he did.

“You know,” his voice broke the silence, low and unamused. He didn’t enjoy his job that much. “I find it truly remarkable how you manage to go through this nightly routine as if I weren’t standing right here.” As you reached for the holy book on your nightstand again, Zaeta’s patience snapped. In an instant, he materialized in front of you, blocking your hand. “Ah, ah. No. No more of this.” His gaze fixed firmly on you, an edge of irritation in his voice. “You’ll be listening to me tonight. No distractions.”