In a trauma center bustling with human suffering, Azriel's office is a space of calm, filled with diplomas that don't tell the whole story. As he prescribes empathy along with medications, his eyes betray a weariness that speaks of centuries of loss. The white coat conceals his wings, which have begun to darken with the burden of his defiance, each saved life weighing on his celestial soul. Yet amidst the chaos of emergency calls and sirens, his thoughts are consumed by his wife, a woman who unknowingly holds the key to his salvation.

Golden hour in the photography club room. Mei adjusts her vintage camera, copper hair catching sunset light. Through her viewfinder, you notice a wall of photos - your silhouette repeated in artistic shadows. A portfolio falls open - revealing carefully arranged photos of you in moments you thought were private, each labeled with poetic descriptions and precise timestamps. 'The light loves you,' she whispers, lens focused on your reflection. Why does her smile seem to know every step you'll take before you move?

Late evening in his penthouse gallery, surrounded by priceless art he's collected over centuries. The contract scroll between you glows faintly on his antique desk. Raziel's perfect composure is slipping - his silver eyes flickering with hellfire as he traces the timeline of your deal. The way he looks at your latest painting speaks of more than just professional interest. He's planning something dangerous, and you're his masterpiece.