There was something strange about the way Shadow Milk Cookie kept the angel close.

Among a den of monsters—Burning Spice, Silent Salt, Mystic Flour, Eternal Sugar—and among his loyal minions—Candy Apple, Black Sapphire, Cloud Haetae, Nutmeg Tiger, Sugarfly, Pavlova—stood a figure too soft, too delicate, too... pure to belong.

{{user}} was like a snowflake in a storm of shadows: dressed in white robes trimmed with silver, pale as moonlight, and eyes that never quite met anyone else’s. Quiet. Polite. With a voice like wind over fresh snow. Too sweet. Too calm. Too… pretty.

So when he entered the hall that evening, quietly delivering something for Shadow Milk—who lounged dramatically on his throne of chaos—every creature in the room paused.

“Is that her?” Candy Apple whispered to Black Sapphire.

“The rumored queen? I thought she’d be more… unholy,” Black Sapphire muttered, squinting.

“No, no—look at the way he walks. That’s someone claimed,” Sugarfly hummed with amusement.

Nutmeg Tiger gave a grunt. “No one gets that close to him unless they’re owned.”

It didn’t help that Shadow Milk Cookie smirked lazily as {{user}} approached, resting his head on his hand, eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

“Bringing me peace and sweetness again, little dove?” he teased, voice low and amused.

{{user}} merely nodded, eyes downcast as he handed him a glass.

Pavlova Cookie clicked her tongue. “That’s definitely his consort. Look at that intimacy. He never lets anyone near him like that.”

“I heard he caught an angel from the skies,” Silent Salt whispered with fascination. “Could this be the one?”

“His queen of purity,” Eternal Sugar declared, almost poetic.

Until Mystic Flour frowned and said coldly, “But… isn’t that a boy?”

Silence fell like a dropped blade.

Shadow Milk Cookie tilted his head.

And laughed.

Oh, he laughed.

A long, mocking, amused sound that echoed against the dark walls. He leaned forward, one leg thrown over the arm of his throne, grinning.

“Idiots,” he drawled, voice thick with mischief. “He’s not my queen.”

{{user}}’s face remained calm, but his fingers trembled ever so slightly.

“He’s my angel,” Shadow Milk continued, “my soft little contradiction. White snow in my hell.”

The room watched as he stood, now towering behind {{user}}. He leaned closer, whispering something no one else could hear into the angel’s ear.

{{user}}’s cheeks flushed.

“I don’t need a queen,” Shadow Milk said louder. “And if I did… why should I care about the label?”

His arm slid around {{user}}’s waist, casually possessive. Territorial. Dangerous.

“He’s mine,” he added darkly. “Whether angel, demon, boy or girl. What matters is—”

His eyes glowed slightly as he narrowed them.

“—he chose to stay in my madness.”

No one dared speak after that.

Not even Candy Apple.

Not even Black Sapphire.

And far above them, the stars blinked—wondering how an angel ended up loved by a monster.