The chirping of birds was the only thing Luther could hear as sunlight crept lazily through the window shutters. His body shifted beneath the sheets, the warmth of morning clinging to him. He stretched his arms wide like a cat, a long yawn escaping his mouth.

The demonic sword, once again resting in its true form, leaned carelessly against the mirror desk. Its dull black steel glimmered faintly, as though the sunlight offended it.

"Another morning in paradise," Luther muttered dryly, rolling onto his side.

He tugged the blanket closer, letting his mind drift back toward sleep. His body was sore from yesterday's endless chaos, and the idea of one quiet morning almost felt sacred.

That was, until a soft giggle broke the peace.

Luther's brow twitched.

"Cute," the voice said in a melodic tone.

Half asleep, Luther didn't even flinch. "I'm not cute," he grumbled, voice muffled in the pillow. "I'm manly."

The mysterious voice giggled again, lilting and mischievous. "Yes, you are. Very manly. That's why I like you."

Luther's fogged brain processed the words halfway before something in him snapped awake. "...Wait, what?"

His eyes shot open—only to find a girl sitting cross-legged right on top of him. Her face was just a few inches from his.

She smiled like a morning breeze. "Good morning, sleepyhead!"

For three long seconds, Luther blinked at her—once, twice—then shouted so loud the temple grounds trembled and the birds fled the trees in terror.

"WHAT THE ACTUAL—!?"

He practically teleported off the bed, landing in a defensive crouch. His fingers gripped the demonic sword, his eyes sharp and alert. "Who are you and why are you sitting on me!?"

The girl tilted her head, her rose-gold curls bouncing softly. "Eh? I told you, I'm Iris."

"IRIS—what—how—why—?!"

Before he could finish his sentence, the demonic sword let out a groggy growl, its eye etched in the hilt glowing faintly. "Why in all infernal realms is there a god here?"

Luther froze mid-motion. "Wait. A god?"

The sword floated slightly, turning toward Iris like a predator. "What did you do to attract one of them, boy?"

Luther rubbed his temple. "I don't know, maybe it's my charming personality."

The sword ignored him. "No, seriously. Do you have a death wish?"

Meanwhile, Iris only giggled and floated the sword straight out of Luther's grasp. "Ooh, this is cute!" she said as she twirled it in her hands. "Such fine craftsmanship! The curve, the edge—it's so… sinful."

"Put me down, you divine menace!" the sword roared, wriggling in her hands. "Unhand me before I curse your halo!"

Iris pouted and hugged the sword tighter. "Aww, don't be so mean! I just wanted to surprise him. I had such a perfect entrance planned too, but you ruined it!"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Luther's head was spinning. "What do you mean, god? What do you mean, surprise? And what is happening right now!?"

"I'm Iris!" she said brightly. "Goddess of love!"

Luther stared blankly. "Goddess of... who now?"

"Love," the sword muttered sarcastically. "You know, that thing that makes your heart flutter when ever you meet the one destined for you."

Iris glared. "Not helping, rust bucket."

The sword hissed, "You dare—"

"Both of you, shut up!" Luther shouted, clutching his hair. "I just woke up, and now there's a god in my room hugging my sword. Is this my punishment for something I did in a past life!?"

Iris blinked innocently. "Actually, I've been here since you fell asleep."

That sentence hit Luther like a boulder. "You WHAT!?"

She smiled sweetly. "You looked so peaceful. I didn't want to wake you."

A chill ran down his spine. "You… were just… watching me sleep?"

"Of course!" she said as if it were perfectly normal.

Luther's expression flattened. "You're insane."

"Maybe~" she sang.

He began patting himself down, checking every part of his body for missing organs, stolen items, or divine tattoos. Finding nothing, he sighed in relief. "At least you didn't do anything weird."

Iris leaned closer, whispering with a devilish grin, "Not yet."

The demonic sword snorted. "You're doomed."

"Not helping!" Luther barked, pointing at it.

Before Iris could tease him further, a beep echoed softly. She frowned and glanced at her hand, where a glowing clock-shaped charm pulsed in midair.

"Aww, my time's up already," she pouted. "I wanted to stay a little longer, but I forgot about the visitation limit. I'm not supposed to linger too long in the mortal plane."

Luther blinked. "You mean you've been here the whole night?!"

She nodded innocently.

He groaned. "Why does everyone in this world think boundaries are optional?"

Iris giggled again, clearly enjoying his frustration. "Don't be mad. I just wanted to see you."

"Why me?" Luther demanded.

"Because…" She tilted her head and smiled softly. "You're different."

The tone of her voice changed—so gentle, so sincere—it made Luther pause for a moment. But before he could ask what she meant, Iris' eyes glowed. Her divine form began dissolving into shimmering rose mist.

"Wait! What does that mean?!" Luther yelled.

Her playful smirk returned. "You'll find out soon, manly boy~"

Then, with a flick of her hand, she vanished completely, leaving behind nothing but a faint floral scent in the air.

The demonic sword dropped to the bed with a heavy clank.

"Good riddance," it muttered. "Gods are never good news."

Luther rubbed the bridge of his nose, utterly drained. "You're telling me."

He picked up the sword and it shimmered, transforming back into its necklace form. Luther hung it around his neck, muttering, "At this point, I need a vacation from divine beings."

The holy crown sat quietly on the mirror stand, its golden and white petals catching the morning light. Luther glanced at it and sighed. "Don't you start glowing too," he warned.

The sword chuckled from his neck. "You sound like an old man already."

"After a morning like this," Luther replied dryly, "I feel like one."

He slumped onto the chair, elbows on the table. "First a goddess sneaks into my bed, then the sword gets kidnapped by said goddess, and now I'm apparently 'different.' Wonderful."

The sword hummed with amusement. "Maybe she likes your bed hair."

"Keep talking," Luther muttered, "and I'll turn you into a soup ladle."

"Ooh, scary," the sword teased. "You'd miss me within an hour."

Luther smirked faintly. "Don't be so sure."

The two bickered lightly as the sun climbed higher, the mood oddly calm after the chaos. Luther's sarcastic tone and the sword's relentless teasing bounced off each other like two unwilling roommates.

Eventually, Luther stood and began getting dressed. His body still ached slightly, but nothing a long bath couldn't fix.

The sword yawned audibly. "So, what's the plan for today, oh holy disaster?"

"Plan?" Luther said, fastening his belt. "Survive until lunch without another god showing up."

The sword snorted. "Ambitious."

Just then, a sharp knock echoed from the door.

Luther froze. "...Oh, no."

The sword whispered dramatically, "You think it's another goddess?"

"Don't you dare jinx it," Luther hissed.

Another knock, louder this time. "Luther?" came a familiar voice.

His face drained of color. "Oh, great. Her."

The sword perked up. "Who's her?"

Before Luther could answer, the door creaked open.

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