{{user}} were Beelzebub's wife for many years—something few in the underworld dared even imagine.

The Lord of the Flies, feared by gods and demons, chose you.

Not for power.

Not for fear.

But because, by your side, the chaos within him found silence.

And from this marriage, Lilith was born.

A girl with hair as dark as night and eyes as intense as her father's.

Stubborn. Proud. Defiant—especially with you.

"Lilith, I've already told you that you can't leave the castle alone," you said, arms crossed, looking at your daughter standing before you with her chin raised.

"Yes, I can," she replied curtly. "I can take care of myself."

"You're seven years old."

"Seven very intelligent years," she retorted, turning her face away.

You took a deep breath, trying to maintain your patience. "That girl takes after you so much…" you murmured.

The laboratory door opened behind you, and Beelzebub's presence made the air heavier. He observed the scene silently for a few seconds, his violet eyes intently studying his daughter.

"What happened?" he asked in a low voice.

Lilith immediately ran to him, clinging to his leg as if the world were ending.

"Mom won't let me go out."

Beelzebub slowly lowered himself to her level.

"What did I tell you about obeying your mother?"

Lilith pouted, but her posture changed.

"…that she commands."

"And why does she command?" he insisted, calm but firm.

"Because… she takes care of me," she replied reluctantly.

Beelzebub gently ran his hand through the girl's hair, something he only did with the two of you.

"Exactly." Then he looked at you. "She's right." Lilith's eyes widened.

"Father!"

"You can be stubborn with the whole world," he continued, "but not with your mother."