7: Gospel of the Dawn (2)

Watching an adult film with someone else present was already surreal; I was also the main character. The situation was downright bizarre. And the worst part was, I was the receiving end, wearing an expression of zero reluctance—no, there was no reluctance at all; only unambiguous, unashamed pleasure.

Flushed with heat and cold at once, I dove to block the mirror. Ruthfel hovered up, casually crossing his legs mid-flight, striking one of his trademark poses: left arm wrapped around the right, right hand resting beneath his chin, eyes full of playful curiosity.

“S-shoo, shoo. Not suitable for children.” I tried to wave him off.

He tilted his head and beckoned with a finger to the side. “Stop blocking the view.”

“What are you doing?” I glared at him.

“Don’t you think it’s beautiful?”

Beautiful…

What the hell is beautiful about this?!

If that was Isar, I’d kill myself before he breaks Metatron’s heart. And if that was me… no, that couldn’t possibly be me. If I ever did something that depraved, shaming my family, my teachers, the entire moral code of Heaven, I’d slam my head into one of those pillars at Divine Law and be done with this life.

There was no way I could block a mirror that large on my own, so Ruthfel kept watching with great interest. I squirmed in embarrassment before suddenly realizing that if I wasn’t standing in front of the mirror, then the scene wouldn’t show up at all. I immediately darted off to the side.

Sure enough, only one figure remained reflected. A red-haired Seraph in white uniform.

Ruthfel’s gaze followed my movement, so with his back now turned to the surface, he couldn’t see the image behind him.

That Seraph, the one I’d seen before. The same red-head in the mirror on Second Heaven.

Ruthfel noticed I was staring intently at the space behind him and instinctively turned. The moment he locked eyes with the Seraph in the mirror, the rhythm of his wings slowed. Then, after glancing my way, he quickly flew to the side.

The mirror went blank.

“Who was that?” I asked.

He looked at me, silent, a hint of hostility in his eyes.

I grabbed his arm, trying to drag him back in front to see the image again, but he flailed with all his might, wings buzzing furiously, stubbornly hovering in place as if a snapping turtle had latched onto his rear. On top of that, he was glowering at me with unmistakable ferocity.

“Who is he? Tell me now!” I wouldn’t let up.

“It has absolutely nothing to do with you.”

There was barely any chance for me to talk to Lucifer face-to-face and now I finally caught a lead through this devil of a child. There was no way I’d let it go. As much as I hated to admit I couldn’t outmuscle a kid, the fact that he was a Seraph made me give up the struggle. Instead, I ran straight back to the mirror to investigate.

Lucifer appeared again. Behind him stood the Hall of Splendor. Hair loosely tied to one side, he wore a low-collared white robe, head lowered as if absorbed in something.

I hadn’t been standing there long when he suddenly looked up and smiled at me gently.

That smile.

My heart nearly stopped.

I shook my head and stepped aside, then moved back in front again. Lucifer was still there, but his appearance had changed from before. Behind him now stood a grand cathedral; him in gilded ceremonial robes, a plume of feathers atop his head, his hair spilling like a waterfall of light.

Finding it oddly amusing, like a dress-up game, I stepped aside and tried again.

But this time—

I nearly landed flat on my back.

The scene was engulfed in darkness. Towering palaces blazed with erupting fire, rivers of molten lava flowing across the land. The man in the mirror wore his hair the same way as Lucifer but his was jet black, like a sheet of silk reflecting blazing crimson, with robes even more opulent than before, his gloved hands crossed arrogantly over his chest.

His irises, a deep black veined with dark red, shifted the instant our eyes met, flaring into the color of blood.

Then, in eerie silence, the corner of his mouth lifted, a predator catching sight of its prey.

I was too stunned to move.

The features were still the same. High-bridged nose, narrow, slightly upturned chin, and I vividly remembered the first time I saw it, how I had internally screamed, Oh my God, this is unreal, aaaaahhhh! But now, staring at this man, who had the time to care what he looked like? Just one glance from him and my legs nearly gave out.

Could this… could this be Lucifer’s form after the Fall? The Ruler of Demons edition?

As if my feet had been nailed to the ground, under the sheer pressure of his invasive view, I didn’t even have the strength to step away from a mere illusion.

Until a column of flame fell from the heavens and shattered the Mirror of Thunder to pieces.

That finally jolted me out of the nightmare. I whipped around, eyes focusing on the culprit behind me.

“We’re leaving,” Ruthfel said without even sparing me a glance, flying past like nothing had happened.

“You… you blew up the Mirror of Thunder, just like that?”

I nearly had a heart attack from the sheer chain of shocks. Turning back to the shattered mirror, I could still see fragments of the Ruler of Demons scattered across the floor. I shivered, flapping my wings cautiously as I followed Ruthfel. But no matter how I tried, I couldn’t get a single word out of him.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about the scene in the mirror, but no matter how I tried, I just could not pinpoint what it was. I spent the entire night mulling it over, turning it around in my mind, only to end up circling back to those reflected images.

Before the car accident, I was convinced that Yang Lu was Lucifer after his fall. But after what I saw in the mirror, I was certain: they only appeared alike. Everyone’s aura is unique and the aura of the fallen Lucifer is something no one could possibly imitate.

“Say… why do you think the person who influences me most would be Lord Lucifer?” I blurted out while scrubbing the floor.

“I thought you’d be more curious about why he appeared like that back there,” Ruthfel’s little head popped out from behind his book.

“Why would I be?” Lucifer becoming the Ruler of Demons was common knowledge. It’s just… he turned out to look a lot scarier than I had imagined.

Ruthfel didn’t reply. He closed his book, tossed it onto the shelf, and waved at me impatiently. “Hire someone to clean. Aren’t you tired of crawling around on the floor all day? Go shower and come sleep with me.”

“Oh…”

I nodded and took a few steps away, then suddenly zipped back and messed up his hair.

“Hey Farthead! You nag me even when I’m cleaning my own place?! Got too used to being a young master, huh? Huh? Huh??”

By the end, I was smushing his cheeks with both hands.

But instead of his usual young-master attitude, Ruthfel furrowed and studied me with surprisingly sternness.

You’ll never understand just how ridiculous a kid looks when they try to act that serious.

I held back the stomachache from laughing too hard, took a shower, and came back to find Ruthfel lying on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Clean and refreshed, I swiped my hair, turned my back to him, took off the towel around my waist, and slipped into a pair of discount striped boxers I’d picked up on the Fifth Heaven. Then, flipping through a magazine, I started whistling.

“Those shorts are hideous.”

Hearing that brat’s comment, a vein twitched on my forehead—but fine, I won’t argue with a child.

“Men don’t need to look pretty. What matters is masculinity.”

“Those boxers would kill any man’s sexual desire on sight.”

“Any man’s?!” I sprang up so fast I nearly flipped the table. “I like women, okay?! What do men have to do with me?!”

Ruthfel raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?” he said, utterly unbothered.

The kid was being especially unlikeable tonight, so I decided to ignore him. After drying my hair and turning off the lights, I crawled into bed too. But unlike before, I didn’t give him the usual big-brotherly forehead pat. I just turned my back to him and shut my eyes.

But Ruthfel hadn’t fallen asleep. Soon, a small, soft hand slipped under the covers and found mine. Just as I was about to ask what was wrong, he suddenly climbed on top of me, bracing his hands on either side of my head, and leaned down to quietly look into my face.

In the darkness, his eyes were like blue stars, hair falling like strands of wheat. I was yet reminded again that this kid was genuinely adorable.

“What is it?” I asked.

I started to sit up, but he pushed me back down, holding me in place, staying like that, staring at me for a long while, then suddenly spoke in a low voice:

“From now on, you can’t dress like that in front of other men. Got it?”

What had started off funny was now veering into the absurd.

I quickly pushed him aside, pulled him into my arms, and patted his head. “Time to sleep, time to sleep. You must be so tired.”

“Isar, listen to me. Once you choose to belong to Lucifer, you won’t have the chance to be intimate with other men.”

A vein popped on my forehead.

WHEN did I ever say I was going to belong to Lucifer?! Aaaaaargh—!!

I gently stroked his head, gently brushed aside his bangs, then with all my strength…slammed my forehead into his.

And promptly blacked out.

Strangely enough, back when I was desperately trying to return to the human world and searching high and low for Lucifer, I couldn’t find him anywhere.

Now that I’ve finally adjusted to life here and stopped being in such a rush, I see him every single day.

That’s right. Ever since the incident with the Mirror of Thunder, Lucifer has been showing up at Gospel of the Dawn every day. He was always surrounded by a gaggle of Seraphim, so I had no real chance to talk to him alone. I’d be assigned to deliver food to that dining room every day, and like clockwork, he’d tip me. Six to ten gold, every time. And just as predictably, the manager confiscated every last one of them.

Life hadn’t cut me any slack. My wages were pitiful to begin with, and now the continued confiscation. Meanwhile, Ruthfel kept insisting that we “eat better,” always telling me, “Go buy this, go get that, let’s eat it together.” As if I had that kind of money. I ended up skipping meals just to buy things for him, then would lie and tell him I’d already eaten. What made it worse was that once he noticed I was getting thinner, he started asking questions. So I could only grit my teeth and say, “I’m built this way, alright? The more nutritious the diet, the leaner I get. You jealous? You can’t copy this even if you try!”

Finally, one day, I collapsed in the kitchen.

After the manager smacked me awake with half-a-hundred slaps, everything before me spun. He yanked me up by the collar. “Hurry up—His Highness Lucifer wants you to deliver his meal.”

“…Oh.”

I was too tired, too hungry, and too miserable to even care why Lucifer had asked for me. I just took the extravagant dish he shoved into my hands and staggered off toward the private room.

Just as I reached the door and tried to free a hand to push it open, I heard someone inside mention my name.

“Your Highness, Isar had just fainted in the kitchen. He’ll be here shortly,” said one of the workers I often teamed up with.

“Fainted?” Lucifer’s voice dropped several notches, lower than I’d ever heard it. “What happened?”

“I think… he fainted from hunger,” the worker replied nervously. “He’s a really good older sibling. He goes hungry every day just to feed his little brother.”

I immediately pushed the door open, smiling like a spring flower in full bloom. “Such nonsense! I just stayed up too late studying and didn’t sleep well, that’s all.”

“Is that so?” Lucifer looked up at me, suspicion all over his face.

My brain instantly replayed the scene from the night before:

“Isar, get up. It’s only seven in the evening and you’re going to bed? Are you a pig?” Ruthfel had shaken my shoulders hard, but I’d been so exhausted I really had passed out like one.

“Food’s here, food’s here,” I said, placing the dish at the center of the long table.

Just as I was about to slip away, Lucifer suddenly asked, “What have you been doing with the tips I’ve given you?”

“My coworker already said it. I use them to buy food for my little brother. You know, kids, growing and all. They need good nutrition. He eats a lot.”

Lucifer was silent for a moment. Then he glanced at one of the angels standing nearby and nodded slightly. That angel immediately stepped forward and handed me a pouch weighing at least three kilos.

I stood there holding that three kilogram bag of gold, completely stunned.

“This should be enough?” Lucifer turned back to me.

I hurriedly tried to return the bag of coins. “Your Highness, to tell you the truth, waiters at our place aren’t allowed to accept tips. You should keep the money. Just let me preserve my strength so I can keep pressing buttons in the kitchen. I’ll last longer and earn more that way…”

“You’re not allowed to accept tips. Then where did all the ones I gave you go?”

Faced with that kind of question, I really couldn’t save face anymore. My stomach was growling like mad, but my body, of course, picked this moment to be annoyingly strong so I didn’t even have the excuse of fainting. I ended up patting a coworker on the shoulder, giving him a profound, unreadable look, and slipped out of the room.

That night, after Lucifer left, the restaurant’s top boss himself came to me and said my hourly wage would be raised to fifteen gold. Fifteen times the minimum wage. Even higher than the manager’s salary. And not only that, he reassigned me to the front desk, where all I had to do was sit for two hours a day, answer reservations, listen to music, and point people in the right direction. That was it.

As for the manager who had always been breathing down my neck… he was inexplicably fired.

What could be more uplifting?

When I got home, I told Ruthfel everything, picked him up, spun him around a few times, and whispered with exaggerated mystery, “You know what? I think this might be Lord Lucifer’s doing! But don’t tell anyone, okay?”

Ruthfel stared at me blankly, eyes dead, a look of pure disdain.

I ruffled his hair and gazed dreamily out the window. “His Highness Lucifer is really a good person. I never expected someone who looks so proud to actually have such a strong sense of justice! I like him more and more!”

“Is that so.”

“Yes!”

When I looked back down at Ruthfel, I was surprised to see the corners of his lips curled up in a gentle smile. He rarely smiled like that—so sweet and adorable that it made me even happier.

“Farthead, I’m rich for real this time. Tomorrow morning, I’m waking up early to make you something delicious!”

“Okay.”

That’s what I had said, but how could the exhaustion I’d racked up be so easily repaid? The next morning, I didn’t even hear the alarm. I slept straight through until noon. Luckily, it was the weekend and I didn’t have class, so I got up and started searching for Ruthfel.

But no matter how long I searched, not a trace of the little bee appeared. What I did find, though, was a cup of warm milk by the bedside, still steaming thanks to a soft flame spell underneath. Beside it sat a small basket, lined with a cloth and filled with fragrant rolls wrapped in a thin layer of cheese.

Under the basket was a note, the handwriting elegant and flowing, each character as delicate as a blooming cherry blossom, penned with a poet’s practiced ease. I slid the note free and read:

Baby,

I had to head back early. There’s milk and bread on the table. Remember to eat, first thing in the morning. Don’t drink milk on an empty stomach; it’s not nutritious and it’s bad for your digestion.

I’ll see you at Metatron’s birthday banquet. There’s something I want to tell you.

—Ruthfel

I silently read the note several times over.

…B-Baby?

3kg = approximately 7lbs (6.61387)