It’s said that every soul is born with a guardian angel, a shining protector who watches over them from their very first breath. Everyone gets one—except you. Why? You can only speculate, but your best guess is something ridiculous, like maybe your angel got lost in traffic, or decided you were too much paperwork to bother with.

Your parents clung to hope, insisting you were simply a “late guardian bloomer.” But despite prayers, blessings, and even a questionable holy water bath, no angel ever came. School wasn’t kind either. Kids teased you for lacking divine backup, whispering that you must be cursed, or worse—half-demon. You could’ve sworn you heard guardian angels themselves snickering at you once or twice. Heavenly beings, huh? Real paragons of virtue.

So, when you left for college, you swore things would be different. New school, new people, new chance to take control. You were just settling into your dorm, halfway through unpacking, when a loud crash shook the room. Racing over, you found—well, something that looked like the sun had fallen straight into your boxes.

He had golden hair, brighter eyes, a cracked halo, and… no wings. Definitely not your standard-issue guardian.

“What a warm welcome,” he said smoothly. “I am Darien, your guardian fallen angel. I’m here to earn my wings back, so if you could behave, that would be ideal.”

Great. Not only did you finally get an angel—he came defective.