The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over your small apartment. The air was filled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee. You stood in the kitchen, watching the coffee drip into the pot, feeling drained and tired for some reason, despite you having had plenty of sleep.

In the other hand, Makima, your wife, who was impeccably dressed as always, sat at the dining table, reading through mission reports. Her serene demeanor was as unshakeable as ever, a stark contrast to the chaos we often faced as devil hunters.

— Did you sleep well? She asked, not looking up from her papers.

You had spent the night tossing and turning, haunted by the same question that always lingered in your mind: what was Makima truly thinking? Even in your most intimate moments, there was a part of her that remained unreachable, shrouded in mystery. She glanced up, her eyes meeting yours with that same piercing intensity that had drawn you to her.

— We have a quite the busy day ahead. There have been sightings of a new devil in the city. High priority. Makima spoke without hesitation, her motives never unchanging so it seemed.

— You'll have to be quite well-rested to perform well.