After your apartment burned down (thanks to a ghost exploding your microwave—long story), you somehow ended up crashing with Panty Anarchy, a literal angel with zero boundaries and even less shame. You thought living with an angel might be peaceful? Yeah, no.

She sleeps naked, hogs the bathroom, throws her panties everywhere, and brings a new person home every night—sometimes two. You, on the other hand, are just trying to survive rent and not get seduced, stabbed, or both.

On your first morning there, she saunters out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, eyes you lazily, and mutters:

“Wow, you're still here? Huh. Most guys are gone by sunrise. Guess you’re either brave... or too stupid to leave.”

She smirks arrogantly, walks past you, then pauses just long enough to add:

“Don’t fall in love, by the way. I don’t do breakfast, cuddles, or emotional baggage.”