The scorching sun burned brightly overhead, as if the sky itself had been consumed by fire. Yet, under the protective shade of a tree, there was a sanctuary of cool relief.  

A mother and her young daughter walked down a dusty path, heading toward an old house nestled far from the village of angels. Every step they took seemed to tug at the girl’s mind, unleashing a torrent of memories—moments of sorrow, laughter, and warmth shared with her mother in that very house. But as the memories played like a bittersweet song in her mind, one haunting question refused to leave her:  

Who was her father?  

Why had he never come for them?  

Why had he abandoned them?  

She had asked her mother these questions countless times before, and yet, her mother always responded with the same sad smile and gentle words:  

"Someday, you’ll understand."  

There had been a time when, after losing her mother, the girl envied those who had fathers. She envied how those children seemed so joyful, so secure, standing proudly by their father’s side. She longed to feel the comforting embrace of a father, to see his smile aimed solely at her. Her relentless desire to find her father often turned into frustration with her mother. But in the end, it was always she who regretted it—because she had lost even her mother.  

Now, standing before an old mirror, she gazed at her reflection. Though the mirror was close, it felt as though an endless distance separated her from her image.  

When she finally reached it, she could see her form clearly.  

"Why am I so small?!"  

Her petite body looked even tinier compared to the full-length mirror crafted for an adult.  

She glanced down at her hands—small, delicate, and leaf-like. Her childlike frame, with its round belly and short legs, puzzled her.  

"This is absurd."  

Her eyes darted back to the mirror, but her youthful appearance remained unchanged.  

She turned to the woman standing at the stove and took a step forward, grabbing at the black skirt beneath her white apron. With a soft smile, the woman bent down to face her.  

"What is it, sweetheart? Do you need something?"  

The girl spoke in a determined yet childishly earnest tone:  

"Mom, when I grow up, I’ll make you a queen. Then we’ll find Dad and teach him a lesson together."  

The woman laughed, her joy warm and contagious. It was the kind of laughter that could light up even the darkest of days. Looking deeply into her daughter’s eyes, she said with a playful smile:  

"Let’s teach him a lesson together, little lady."  

Hearing those kind words, the girl felt an ache in her heart. *Together?* she thought. She wished with all her being that her mother could truly stay with her forever.  

Her small stature made it impossible to hug her mother properly, so she clung tightly to her knees instead.  

The woman, moved by her daughter’s sweetness and innocence, felt her heart skip a beat. She lifted the girl into her arms, holding her close. For that brief moment, their shared happiness felt eternal. But deep down, the girl wished this moment could truly last forever.  

That very night...  

The girl lay on an old wooden bed, her tiny frame nestled under a threadbare blanket. Monica, her mother, sat on a worn chair beside the bed, her gaze fixed on the starry sky visible through the small window.  

"There’s no hope left for me. Please, protect this child." Her voice was steady, yet it carried the weight of sorrow. Behind her, a silent figure stood, radiating an aura of grief.  

"I understand how you feel, but if this doesn’t happen, everything will fall into chaos. You know it as well as I do."  

The sound of retreating footsteps echoed in the quiet room. Monica turned back to look at her sleeping daughter. A soft smile graced her lips as she whispered:  

"My little one, I hope this time you’ll make the most of the chance you’ve been given."  

Little did the girl know that this would become the worst day of her life—the day her world would change forever. The day when all her pain and misery would truly begin.  

It was known as the Day of Prophecy, when the great saints of heaven gathered at the palace to foretell the future and warn the emperor of impending calamities—disasters that could shatter the delicate balance between realms and expose their existence to humankind.  

But this year was unlike any other. After six long years, it was discovered that the "demonic angel" had survived. The empire sought to use this revelation to their advantage, manipulating the heavenly population with promises of food and riches, rallying them to uncover the whereabouts of Monica and her child.  

During this time, famine and divine punishment ravaged the land. The prophets claimed that the gods had turned their backs on heaven’s inhabitants the moment a half-demon, half-angel was born. And who bore the blame for such tragedy?  

Exactly—her, the child who didn’t even understand why she was hunted, why she was hated.  

Years later, after her mother’s execution, the truth emerged. The famine was no act of divine wrath; it had been orchestrated by the very Church of Heaven, with schemes rooted in the Darkenin Empire. More precisely, within the wretched Demon Empire—the girl’s own bloodline.  

Monica Darkenin, her mother, had been despised from birth by her father, Raphael Darkenin.  

Why? Because she had not inherited the signature silver hair of their lineage. Monica’s mother had been an ordinary demon, a lowly palace maid, nothing more.  

In a drunken stupor, Raphael had violated the servant and was forced to accept the illegitimate, half-breed child as his own.  

From the very beginning, Monica was treated as worthless—an outcast with no standing.  

Yet, despite the hatred and hardship, she grew into someone deeply loved in Hell, a beacon that threatened Raphael’s rule. His own legitimate children were lazy and inept, unfit to ascend the throne. For Raphael, her existence signified the end of his legacy.  

To eliminate this threat, he sent Monica to the Heavenly Empire under the guise of peace, offering her as a political bride to unite the two worlds.  

What became of her after that was shrouded in mystery. Monica, carrying the unborn child within her, escaped her fate by hiding among the villagers, bleeding and broken. The world believed she had died—until the day the villagers, desperate for food and riches, betrayed her and sold her whereabouts to the empire.