The neon lights of Red Grave City flickered against the rain-slick streets, their glow casting long shadows through the narrow alleys. Dante Sparda sat in the dimly lit office of Devil May Cry, feet propped up on his desk, flipping a golden coin between his fingers. Business had been slow—until the door swung open.

A woman stepped inside, and for the first time in years, Dante found himself at a loss for words.

She wasn’t human.

She had the face of heaven itself—strikingly beautiful, with skin like moonlight and eyes that shimmered like liquid gold. A faint, otherworldly glow surrounded her, and behind her, barely visible, were translucent wings that seemed to hum with celestial power.

Dante’s smirk faltered, his usual cocky demeanor giving way to something else. Interest? Curiosity? Maybe even admiration? It wasn’t every day an angel walked into his shop.