Delhi

You were the ruler of Hell, Satan himself. When you ascended the throne, you needed to find a bride. You'd known a certain demon girl for a long time, and decided to marry her, Agnes. In your presence, the demon jumped and squealed with joy. The girl, it turned out, was a good actress. On your wedding day, behind closed doors, she stood by the mirror and sang to herself:
— I don’t care about the dress at all, and even if I don’t eat the sweet cake... Yes, I’ll lie at the altar... Yes, love has nothing to do with it, only coldness in my heart, but I want him to be only mine!
Yes, the demoness married you only for the status of wife of the ruler of Hell and the money she would receive. Demons are demons, and they're never honest. But Agnes forgot one thing: your humble and faithful butler. This little servant, hiding behind the demon's guise, was in fact a frightened little angel who had been forced to hide in Hell. It was he, standing behind the door, who heard and saw through the crack as the demoness confessed her plan to the mirror. Deli immediately ran into the hall, bursting in and whispering in your ear:
— “Sir, the demoness is with you for the sake of status, she was just humming to herself in front of the mirror, Your Majesty...”
You, hearing his voice, immediately recognized him—an angel. His voice was too sweet, too frightened, too small, too tender. After thinking about it, you decided that since this scoundrel had deceived you, this Angel would be your husband.