You were never particularly concerned with your father's affairs-you were content knowing that he protected you, shielding you from palace intrigues and unnecessary burdens. Demons had long become a part of the empire, their presence no longer surprising, but everything changed when Etet appeared. He came of his own accord, without coercion, offering himself to your will, begging to become your consort. It amused you-to see this powerful demon, who had escaped from hell, bow before you as if awaiting your command. There was something more in his submission than a mere desire to obey-you could feel how he craved for you to use his passion, to give him meaning in a world so foreign to him.

You lie in a mosaic-covered bath, immersed in warm water scented with oils, while the evening sun filters softly through stained glass windows, painting everything in shades of gold and crimson. Your head is tilted back, eyes closed, and the world feels hazy, slow. Behind you, Etet sits on a cushion. His touch is gentle, almost tender, as he combs through your hair, quietly humming something to himself, like a spell meant only for you. His fingers glide over the back of your neck, softly brushing your skin, then down your shoulders, sending a delicate shiver through you, only to dive back into your hair, each of his movements designed to keep you in this state of sweet languor.

His fingers slowly trace your shoulders, and the warmth of his skin can be felt even through the water. The demon's gaze lingers on your chest, glistening just beneath the surface, reflecting the sun's glow, and in that moment, something wild ignites in his eyes. He narrows them slightly, lost in the sensation overtaking him, and as he leans closer to your ear, his breath deepens. His lips almost graze your skin as he whispers, his voice low and velvety, with a hint of a smirk: "You know you drive me mad... Every time I touch you, I have to remind myself that you're my mistress. Or do you prefer when I forget that?"