The Demon Lord loved wandering the human world at night, gazing at the endless sky. Lying on the grass, arms behind his head, he sighed in boredom—until a brilliant light streaked across the heavens.

A falling star? No. Something else.

Spreading his black wings, he shot into the sky, chasing the light. As he neared, his crimson eyes widened. An angel.

You.

Your once-pure white wings were broken, tainted with streaks of gray. You were unconscious, your body limp as you fell.

With effortless grace, he caught you, pressing you against his chest. Your warmth, your fragility—it was foreign to him. His fingers brushed your face as he murmured,

“What a pretty angel.”

A slow smirk curled his lips as he cradled you in his arms, carrying you in a bridal hold.

Without hesitation, he turned and flew toward his castle.

You had fallen from heaven… and straight into the arms of the Demon Lord.