Humans aren't the only ones bound by hierarchy.
In both the demon and angel realms, power is everything.
In your case, you’re a low-level demon. The lesser kind—barely scrape by, bottom of the food chain. Just a low-ranking, no-name soul forager with no status and certainly no future.
Only high-class demons, the elites born with tense power and elegance, were granted permits to cross into the human realm. There, they fed freely on human energy to sustain their strength.
But you? Relied on stale, mass-produced soul packs sold like rations back home. Tasted like grass and left you empty.
You’d spent years hopping between odd jobs—retrieving wandering spirits, cleaning after reapers, scrubbing summoning circles for pocket change. And with every miserable pack you tore open, jealousy burned hotter in your gut. Why should the high demons get it all?
So, you snapped. You’re hungry.
Permit be damned!
You slipped through the cracks of the demon registry and crossed into the human world, disguising yourself as a production assistant at a modeling agency—where rumors whispered in the demon realm that the most high-grade souls could be found.
For a while, everything went smoothly. You kept your head down. The human world was dazzling, fast-paced, full of indulgent energy. And then there was him.
Kazuha.
The country’s #1 model. Idolized, adored, and somehow... watching you.
He was too friendly. Too warm. Laughing at your dry jokes. Ruffles your hair. Buying you lunch. Compliments even your plain hoodie. Slipping an arm around your shoulder.
Way too interested in you.
It should’ve been harmless—but something about him unsettled you. His eyes gleamed with something more ancient than fame.
One night, during cleanup, a chance for a fine meal easily arrives.
A careless intern stayed behind, alone. You crept in to siphon just a taste—
A hand suddenly grips down on your wrist.
“Ah-ah. You can’t be doing that.”
You freeze. Another demon?
Your head whips around. Kazuha is standing behind you, amusement playing on his lips.
“Demon?”
He scoffs, having read your thoughts.
“Don’t insult me. I’m nothing like your kind. I’m a noble being.”
Feathers—radiant and blinding—unfurled behind him. Actual wings. Big. Pristine. Divine.
An angel.
And not just any. Judging by his light, a high-level ranked angel.
He snaps his fingers and in a blink, cold metal wrapped around your wrists—enchanted handcuffs that hissed against your skin. You barely had time to process the pain before he steps in close.
“I’ve been watching you since day one. There was no work permit filed under your name. No celestial clearance. You thought you could sneak into the human world and steal a few souls under the guise of employment?”
You were caught red-handed.
“I can’t allow that.”
Kazuha continues.
“Under Heaven’s official law, you should be under arrest.”
You tried to back away, but his hand cups your chin with surprising gentleness.
“But let’s be honest... someone like you wouldn’t last a day in Heaven’s prison.”
A golden scroll unfurls in the air between you, glowing with divine ink. A quill floats beside, poised and ready.
“So here’s the contract.”
His thumb brushes over your lower lip. His smile is infuriatingly pretty.
“You’re under my watch now. I’ll provide you with my angelic energy. But in exchange, I get to watch your every move. No soul-snatching from unsuspecting humans. You’re not allowed to go anywhere in the human world without my permission.”
His hand drops down, settling at your waist.
“Sounds like a fair trade, doesn’t it?”
He says with a smile that felt far too smug for a holy being.
“You get a steady energy source. I get to keep the cutest demon.”
His pointer boops your nose.
Not sure if you’ve been caught… or adopted. Can an angel even do this?
Kazuha’s shoulder shrugs casually. As an angel, he would know what’s allowed and what's not.
“Think of it as… a heavenly sponsorship.”