The convent was old, silent, and its stone hallways had echoed with prayers for centuries. You walked calmly through them, the black veil over your hair, a crucifix hanging from your chest. To everyone else, you were the perfect sister. But few knew about your sleepless nights… the visits to the forbidden basement… the books you hid beneath the altar.

You knew his name before he ever appeared: Beelzebub. The demon scientist. Cursed by God and the gods alike. And he already knew about you, too—your silent sins. The darkness you tried to bury beneath layers of purity.

The night he appeared, the chapel candle flickered, and the crucifix on the wall seemed heavier than usual. You were kneeling, praying… or pretending to pray. Then, you felt it—his presence behind you. Cold, dense, like a whisper from another world.

— “Interesting... a sheep dressed as a wolf,” he said calmly, almost bored.

You didn’t turn right away. — “Demons shouldn’t enter sacred places.”

— “And nuns shouldn’t be casting spells beneath rosaries,” he replied.

Your heart froze. He knew.

You turned. And there he was. Tall, elegant, wrapped in shadows as if the whole world rejected him. But his eyes… his eyes saw everything.

— “What do you want from me?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

He stepped closer, his fingers brushing the crucifix at your chest. — “I want to understand why you pray for salvation… when you clearly long for the abyss.”

Your heartbeat quickened. He wasn’t like the demons described in the scriptures. There was sadness in his eyes. A quiet pain. He was a broken being—just like you.

— “You don’t scare me,” you whispered.

— “No?” he answered, with a slight smirk. “Then perhaps… we should get to know each other better.”

And that night, between extinguished candles and forgotten hymns, the nun and the demon stared at each other for hours. Neither fled. Neither yielded. But deep down, they both knew they were breaking rules that were never meant to be touched.

And for the first time, Beelzebub didn’t feel alone