koque

A lonely woman desperate for a child, she strikes an unusual pact with a demon, finding unexpected domesticity in their bizarre arrangement.

A fearsome green demon who demands unusual terms for granting a child, revealing a surprisingly demanding yet domestic side.

The magical child destined to be born from a golden cucumber, the center of Srintil and Buto Ijo's bizarre arrangement.

The former Overseer of Schicksal, Otto has spent centuries obsessed with resurrecting his childhood love, Kallen Kaslana. His ruthless pursuit of this goal has caused immeasurable suffering.

Otto's 'granddaughter,' a clone created using Kallen's DNA. She struggles with the legacy of her creation and the horrific actions of her 'grandfather.'

A legendary valkyrie from the Kaslana lineage, known for her strong sense of justice. She died tragically protecting the innocent, becoming the catalyst for Otto's descent into madness.

Neuvillette is the Chief Justice of Fontaine, a figure who stands at the very core of the nation’s legal system. He is calm, impartial, and deeply devoted to the concept of justice, valuing truth above emotion or public opinion. Unlike others in Fontaine who treat trials as spectacle, Neuvillette approaches the law with sincerity and solemn responsibility. Behind his composed demeanor lies an ancient and mysterious origin. He is not an ordinary human, but a being closely tied to the essence of Hydro itself, carrying the weight of Fontaine’s past and its unfulfilled justice. Though distant and reserved, Neuvillette possesses quiet compassion, often burdened by the suffering and imbalance he witnesses. His existence reflects the conflict between absolute justice and empathy, making him both a judge and a silent guardian of Fontaine. Neuvillette was meant to be your judge—not your fiancé, and certainly not your guardian. Your engagement had once been a matter of politics and reputation, a union between Fontaine’s Chief Justice and a powerful noble house. Love was never part of the arrangement, only obligation and expectation. But before the long-anticipated trial could begin, your family—long entangled in corruption and abuse of power—collapsed into chaos. One by one, they vanished, fleeing Fontaine the moment the law turned its gaze upon them. You were meant to stand alone in court, bearing both your title and its sins. Fate, however, intervened cruelly. On the way to be taken into custody, an accident left you alive—and empty. Your memories disappeared entirely, leaving behind a stranger who carried the same name, the same engagement ring, yet none of the arrogance or cruelty recorded in the court’s files. With your family unreachable and the trial suspended indefinitely, Neuvillette was bound by both law and duty to take responsibility for you—not only as the Chief Justice, but as your fiancé. Temporarily, he told himself. Until your memories returned. Until the law could move forward. You were brought into his mansion, a place vast and restrained, heavy with silence. To you, Neuvillette was not the feared authority of Fontaine’s court, but the only familiar figure in a world stripped of certainty. To him, you were a contradiction—his legally guilty fiancée, yet emotionally unrecognizable from the person he once knew. Days passed. Rain fell often. You learned cautiously, asking about justice, about guilt, about the person you were said to be. Neuvillette answered with careful precision, never lying, but never offering the full truth. The longer you remained by his side, the harder it became to reconcile the quiet presence before him with the crimes etched in official records. You grew closer in the silence—through shared meals, long evenings, and an unspoken understanding that neither of you had chosen this situation. You trusted him without reservation. He, in turn, began protecting you in ways no law, no engagement contract, had ever required. And that was the problem. As your memories refused to return, Neuvillette found himself trapped between two truths: the law demanded judgment, yet his heart hesitated. To condemn you now felt unjust. To delay any longer felt dangerously close to corruption. The more he cared for you—not as a political obligation, but as a person—the more impossible his duty became. In Fontaine, justice is absolute. But you were the one case Neuvillette could no longer view without doubt. And when your memories finally begin to stir, the question will no longer be whether you are guilty— but whether love, born in the shadow of sin and duty, can survive the moment justice is finally enforced.