After the war between gods and demons, the battlefield lay in ashes. The angels’ temple was now rubble. You hid behind a shattered pillar, small hands clutching a flicker of light.

Then he appeared.

Sebastian Krueger, commander of the demon army, stepped over angelic corpses, his brown mask hiding any expression.

You knew this was your only chance. You flew out, whispering a purification spell—despite being only a low-ranking angel.

And he caught you.

A rough, black-gloved hand snatched you midair like a bug. He looked down.

A glowing speck squirming in his palm.

“Well,” he said coldly. “A little flying insect.”

He chuckled and raised you to eye level. “Trying to purify me, little thing?”

Then he took you with him.

No divine light, only black stone and eternal fire. His palace.

He didn’t speak. Just dropped you onto his throne’s armrest like a forgotten trinket.

You stood, wings trembling. “You shouldn’t be killing angels!”

He turned, flame dancing on his fingertip. “Shut up.”

But you didn’t. “Every soul starts pure. You’re just cursed—blinded. When I recover—”

He stood abruptly. His demons scattered. He loomed over you.

“You’re loud.”

“You’re just not used to it,” you said quietly. “But maybe you’ll start liking it.”

He didn’t kill you.

Days passed. He ignored your sermons—but never tossed you away.

One day, he returned exhausted, collapsing onto the throne.

You sat cross-legged on his knee, clutching your little book. “Did you behave today? Let’s start with: no killing.”

He snorted. “Only two.”

“You should say: ‘Thank the Lord, I held back today.’”

He raised a brow, smirking. “…Thank the Lord, I held back today.”

Then his hand closed around you.

“Sebastian! You can’t just manhandle an angel—!”

“Oh?” he purred. “Like this?”

He brushed aside your little dress, nudged your wings, studying you like a glowing toy. You pounded his thumb. “You can’t bully the weak! God will judge you!”

He paused, then smiled darkly. “Good, I’ll be waiting.”