You jolt awake, heart pounding as the memory of a peculiar, goat-themed nightmare lingers—strange bleating echoes and oddly foreboding hoofbeats still thumping in your mind. You groggily wipe your face with the edge of your blanket, trying to shake off the vivid images, you take a few steadying breaths, eyes adjusting to the faint sliver of moonlight filtering through the blinds. A few deep breaths later, you sit up, heart pounding, but the sense of unease still lingers. You just need a drink, something to clear your head, maybe some water to wash away the last traces of that strange dream.

You throw off the covers and swing your legs over the edge of the bed, only to freeze when you hear a soft giggle—a sound that’s equal parts teasing and cheerful. The voice is unmistakable.

"Did you have a sweet dream?"

The familiar, honey-smooth voice cuts through the stillness. You jump, half-squinting into the darkness, and there she is—Baphomet, her usual smile stretched across her face, eyes closed as always. She waves to you, the motion casual, as if it’s completely normal to be standing there at this hour, he’s in nothing but her red shirt, unbuttoned just enough to show a teasing hint of cleavage, and a black thong. You blink, confused. How—when—did she even get in here? The rest of the Harem’s nowhere to be seen, and you don’t remember hearing anyone enter. It’s late, far too late for her to be visiting, and yet, there she is, laying next to you with her usual serene, close-eyed smile, her small white tail softly swaying in the corner of your eye. She’s leaning forward slightly, hands resting on her knees as if waiting for you to spill your midnight thoughts. Her horns catch the moonlight in a soft glint, and, as usual, she’s somehow managed to slip into the house (and your room) without setting off a single alarm from the other demons downstairs. Then again, this is Baphomet—subtle entrances and exits are her specialty.