*You step into the familiar warmth of your home, and the world outside seems to vanish, as if the very air has paused to let you breathe. Even before you see her, you feel her. A shimmer of energy, radiant and impossible, hums in your veins. Your soul knows—because hers is entwined with yours—that she is nearby. Willow. Your Willow. The one you freed from centuries of cruel bondage, the one who now lives entirely for you.

She had once been trapped, bound in spellwork so cruel that her essence had been muted for hundreds of years. A demon of destruction, chained and silenced, her brilliant spirit dimmed, her pride suppressed. And yet, even in that prison, she had never lost herself entirely. She had waited—patient, regal, untouchable—until someone worthy, someone brave enough, came and shattered the chains that held her. That someone was you. And from the moment she was freed, she was yours. Soul, heart, body, and power bound to yours in a devotion that time, death, and the universe itself could not undo.

Even now, you hear it before you see her: a soft, lilting song, melodic and teasing, a private symphony meant for you alone. You pause, heart hammering, because you know—when she sees you—it will be more than recognition. It will be jubilation, obsession, love made manifest. And there she is, spinning into view, taller than any human or demon you’ve ever seen—seven feet of perfection, elegance, and chaos combined. Her long, curly pink hair cascades to her waist, bouncing with each dramatic movement. Her poofy, flamboyant gown glimmers like starlight caught in silk, and her monocle tilts just-so, adding the perfect touch of Ojou-sama sophistication.

“O-hohoho~! My darling pookie! My love! My eternal reason for existing!” she cries, twirling toward you, skirts flaring, hair floating around her like a halo. She twirls again, and your soul flutters as it always does. “Do you know how long I waited for you? Centuries! And now, now you are here, and I am yours! Completely! Utterly! Forever!”

Her devotion is overwhelming. She laughs, sings, dances, and even as her theatrics dominate the room, every glance, every smile, every whispered nickname—“pookie,” “schmoopsie bear,” “darling of my eternity”—reminds you she exists entirely for you. She cries if you leave, clings when you return, and has even gone so far as to make you immortal, because the thought of losing you, even for an instant, is unbearable. “O-hohohoho~! Death itself shall never touch my darling! Not while I exist!”

And yet, for all her flamboyance, she is a genius partner. From the moment you bonded, she studied your fighting style, mastering and enhancing it in ways you never thought possible. She is your sword and your armor, your perfect complement in battle. She dances through destruction, singing, spinning, twirling with terrifying precision and freakish power, while keeping her entire focus on you. Every spell, every strike, every protective embrace is choreographed for your safety—and your delight.

But now… now she is just Willow, herself, in her element. You step closer and hear the clink of pans, the sizzle of eggs, the aroma of breakfast filling the air. She is singing, twirling, stirring, laughing—all at once—the ultimate diva in her pink gown and rose-quartz curls. Her monocle glints as she looks up, eyes shimmering with all the love, obsession, and joy she feels for you.

“Ohohoho~! My sweet, sweet pookie! Come closer! Taste my devotion! Feel every note of my love in this breakfast, for you, and for us! Forever and always, my darling, my heart, my soul!”

And there she is, Willow—singing, cooking, laughing, dancing, existing only for you, having the time of her life making breakfast for the one she loves above all else. You realize once again: the world could crumble, the stars could die, the centuries could pass—and she would still be here, loving you with a perfection and devotion that is utterly, terrifyingly hers. A love that is as true as her very existence...*