I tiptoed home, hoping to find out whether Ruthfel had returned. But just as I reached the door, I heard the sound of someone rummaging through things inside. My heart leapt—I kicked the door open: “Farthead! You’re back! I brought you some mi….lk….…Caro?”
Caro slowly turned, holding up one of Ruthfel’s feathers and waving it in front of me. “Why are there so many of these in your room?”
“Why are you going through my personal things without asking?”
Caro raised his voice. “Answer me first! Why do you have so many of these feathers?”
“How’s that any of your business? Who gave you permission to come in?”
“Isar, the things you say are absolute crap!”
“This is my room. Please leave.” I pointed at the door.
Caro was trembling with rage. He bolted out, slamming the door behind him so hard it sounded like an earthquake.
After setting down the milk, I collapsed onto the bed. But soon enough, the sweet scent of milk filled my nose and jolted me upright—I leapt to my feet and dashed out the door in search of Ruthfel.
But there was no sign of him in the residential area, on campus, or anywhere nearby. Then I remembered. Farthead was a Seraph, so maybe he had returned to Sancta Faylia. I started waiting every day by the stairs to the Seventh Heaven, lingering there for hours. Countless six-winged angels passed through, including some Seraphic children, but their wings were always pure gold. None had the beautiful, uniquely colored wings that Ruthfel did.
That’s when I became certain: Ruthfel was Michael. And once I guessed his identity, he vanished out of fear I’d tell Lucifer the truth.
Eventually, I found my way to the Seventh Academy. But no matter how I asked around for “Ruthfel,” everyone just laughed and said, “I only know Lord Lucifer.”
Farthead, Farthead—where the hell did you run off to? When I find you, I swear I’ll beat the crap out of that kid…!
But he’s so small… and Shima so big…
What if something happened? What if he got taken by someone bad?
That day, my wings were so sore they were practically cramping. I could barely manage to walk, had to rest before taking off again, then land and walk some more… I repeated the cycle dozens of times before finally collapsing onto the grass.
Farthead… where the hell did you go? When I find you, I swear I’m plucking every last feather off your wings and selling them! Then I’ll sell you to a trafficker! Ship you off to the First Heaven to be demon food!
Exams are just days away. But without finding Farthead, I haven’t been able to study at all.
Farthead, oh Farthead… where are you…
The sky had darkened. Below the Fifth Heaven, it must already be night. From this patch of grass, I could just barely make out a flash of holy light from the stairway to Sancta Faylia.
In the end, Ruthfel was just a child, and I’d been so hard on him, always acting like the older brother, always giving him a tough time. I really was too much. When he comes back, I swear I won’t bully him anymore…
“Do you need any help?”
I must’ve looked completely lost—this was the Nth person to ask me that today. I gratefully shook my head and thanked them.
But that voice…
I whipped around and saw Lucifer standing behind me.
He wore a feathered adornment on his head, the plumes trembling ever so slightly, like ripples stirring across a blossoming sea.
“What happened to you?”
I must’ve looked a complete mess, sweaty from a full day of searching, smeared with dirt from falling into the grass. But I didn’t care anymore.
“Your Highness, there’s something I must ask of you. Please, I beg you.”
“Don’t rush,” he said gently. “Take your time.”
I tried to collect myself, but my voice still quivered as I spoke: “My little brother is missing. I’ve been searching for days, but there’s been no sign of him. His name is Ruthfel. He’s a Seraph, just a young child… You’ve probably seen many Seraphim in the Sanctum, so it’s possible you wouldn’t recognize him. But I’m really worried…”
Lucifer stood still for a moment. His sapphire eyes made me instinctively avert my gaze.
“Your Highness, he’s been missing for eight days—please help me, I’m begging you!” I wiped my face with the back of my hand, only to smear a clump of mud across it. At this point, even ten Picassos together couldn’t paint the wreck that I was.
Then, unexpectedly, Lucifer wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me against him.
I blinked, then blinked again.
—What is happening?
He drew me fully into his embrace, one hand gently resting on the back of my head, stroking softly, like he was comforting a stray puppy. I was completely frozen, unsure where to place my hands, so I let them hang uselessly by my sides.
“You go calling others children, and look at yourself now,” he said in a low, gentle voice.
I lifted my head and accidentally bumped his chin. If I opened my mouth to speak, my lips would brush against his neck—so I didn’t dare say anything at all. Lucifer didn’t seem inclined to let go either; he just kept holding me, wordless and still.
I tried to keep my chest from pressing against him. There was something inside thudding wildly, loud enough that even I could hear.
And yet, when I was finally freed from that unnervingly close embrace, I felt an inexplicable sense of loss.
He helped me to my feet and gently wiped the dirt from my face. “If I hear anything, I’ll let you know,” he said.
Then he patted my shoulder and soared into the sky.
At that moment, I had a strange feeling that Lucifer didn’t seem like someone born of this solemn, stifling Heaven. Because the instant he spread his six wings, it was as if he could soar unimaginably high and far. As if the next moment, he might vanish from my sight entirely. As if even the golden skies above the Sanctum couldn’t contain the span of his wings…
Dragging my exhausted body home, I once again heard someone rummaging inside my room. I kicked the door open.
“Caro, I told you to stop going through my—”
Then I froze.
There was now a small white luggage on the bed, filled with tiny clothes, along with a pen holder stuffed with quills and charcoal pencils. Ruthfel was perched at the head of the bed, dressed in pale yellow pajamas. He pulled out a handful of clothes, gave them a good shake, and flapped his wings as he floated toward the wardrobe, hanging each piece carefully. His little body swayed in the air as he worked.
When he saw me come in, he clapped the dust off his hands, turned around, and looked at me silently, his face unreadable.
I rubbed my eyes and locked eyes with him for a long moment, then quickened my pace and walked over.
Ruthfel flapped his wings rapidly but drifted slowly, his expression as calm and indifferent as ever.
I stopped in front of him and took a deep breath.
What a touching reunion!
I punched him on the head, so hard he nearly went into free fall again.
“You little punk!” I grabbed his face and pulled it in every direction. “You brainless farthead! So you do remember how to come home?! Do you have any idea how many days I’ve been looking for you?! I was worried sick, do you hear me?!”
Seething with righteous fury, I dropped onto the bed with crossed arms and sat motionless.
Ruthfel fluttered over and perched on my legs. Looking at that round face and those bright blue eyes, I tried my best to hold back—but in the end, I couldn’t help it. I pulled him into a hug.
“Farthead, you went way too far this time!”
Ruthfel slowly lowered his eyes. “Sorry. There was a problem with human creation. Every six-wing was summoned to the Sanctum for council, so I couldn’t come down.”
“But you could’ve at least told me. I searched all over Shima, and I can’t get into Sancta Faylia.”
Ruthfel slipped out of my arms and pulled a silver chain from his robe, placing it in my hand. “If you ever want to go to the Seventh Heaven, just show this to the guards. You’ll be allowed anywhere—including the Sanctum.”
The silver chain looked incredibly familiar. While I was still puzzling over it, Ruthfel fastened it around my wrist and asked, as if it were nothing, “Do you really see me as your little brother?”
I nodded.
“Then… can I kiss you?”
This kid was so polite, even asking permission to kiss me. I tilted my head and leaned over, offering my cheek.
But Ruthfel straightened a bit, placed both hands against my chest, and gently touched his soft lips to mine.
I froze, then clutched my mouth in shock.
Ruthfel looked up at me with those wide blue eyes. “Isar, even though I look like a child right now, I’m much older than you. My magic is strong, too.”
I knew Seraphim matured slowly, so it wasn’t surprising that he was older than me. But still…
“So…?”
“I have the ability to take care of you. Let me be your lover.”
Wha—
What…?!
This is absurd! What the hell is this little farthead talking about?!
Ruthfel seemed to see straight through my thoughts. With a gaze so loving it looked hilarious on a child’s face. “I understand what you’re thinking. My current body truly doesn’t have any desires. But once I’m bigger, in every way that matters—I promise, you won’t be disappointed.”
We stared at each other for a long time.
Finally, I dotingly patted his head, laid him down on the bed, and walked straight out the door.
Ruthfel didn’t seem the least bit upset. He leaned back against the pillow and said casually:
“I’ll probably be busy at Sancta Faylia for the next few days. Once your exams are over, I’ll come back. Is there anywhere you really want to go? I’ll take you then.”
God, please—don’t let a child talk to me like a man making plans with his girlfriend!
I shook my head. “I probably won’t even pass the exam. Who’d be in the mood to go play after that?”
“It’s fine even if you don’t pass. Which rank do you want?”
The way he said it made it sound like he was asking, “Which burger you want?”
“I want to be a Seraph. That okay?”
“Sure. Once the council ends, I’ll take you to the altar to be promoted. But many angels become complacent after rising to Seraph—they stop wanting to leave the Sanctum. Shima’s environment isn’t great, but it’s a lot happier here than up there. Think it over.”
Shima’s environment… isn’t great?
What kind of angel even says things like that?
“Farthead, I was joking with you.” I sighed, holding my forehead. “I’m just a regular person. I can’t live that kind of abstract life the higher angels lead.”
Ruthfel smiled, lifting his adorable little face toward me. “I want you, so I’ll do everything I can to fulfill your wishes.”
Words like that coming out of a kid’s mouth were seriously unsettling. But he didn’t give me time to be stunned and asked again, “Have you decided? Where do you want to go?”
I thought for a moment. Since this kid was apparently so powerful, maybe I could just… “Can we go to the Demon Realm?”
Ruthfel blinked in surprise. “You want to go to the Demon Realm?”
“It’s fine if we can’t. I was just curious.”
“Of course we can.”
The next day, I attended the final class before the exam and found myself understanding nearly every detail of the history lesson. Thinking back, it was just one afternoon spent chatting with Lucifer, and yet my Heavenly Language and history had both improved dramatically.
I was flying out of the castle in high spirits when several figures suddenly rushed in, surrounding me and dragging me down.
“Is there something you need?” I asked, barely getting the words out before one of them raised a hand and slapped me hard—a sharp, stinging blow that left my ears ringing.
Stunned by the sudden violence, I couldn’t react right away. But their conversation quickly clued me in to the reason:
“The little whore’s still hanging around Shima? Judging by the look of him, he’s probably already seduced Lord Metatron and bribed his way into passing the exam.”
“Was it Lord Metatron,” one of them chimed in mockingly, “or was it Lord Lucifer?” He mimicked the classic limp-wristed pose of a flamboyant caricature, raising his voice in a shrill falsetto. “Ohhh, I’m Isar and I just can’t decide!”
“This has nothing to do with them! They didn’t help me with anything… mmf—!” I rushed forward, swinging my fists in defiance, but one of them kicked me hard in the gut. The pain surged through me like my organs were being smashed with a hammer.
“Take him away.”
One of them ordered, and my arms were immediately pinned down. I tried to break free, flailing in desperation, but another angel produced a dark, thorn-covered vine and wrapped it tightly around my wrists. The thorns pressed sharply into my skin—just as I jerked back, he wrapped a strip of white cloth around my hands and forced it down.
The pain that followed was blinding. My entire body seized up as crimson spread quickly through the cloth. While I was still trembling from the first surge of agony, he dragged me forward and drove the thorns in again.
The air filled with the thick, metallic stench of blood. The cloth turned completely red, and droplets began to fall from its edge, dotting the ground behind us as they pushed me along.
The pain blurred my senses, and I couldn’t tell where they were taking me. Eventually, we stopped in a Shima-style open chamber, all white.
They kicked me to the floor. The thorns dug even deeper.
An angel stepped forward, grabbed one of my wings and yanked me along. Then he seized a fistful of my hair and slammed my head into the wall.
The impact felt like my skull had cracked open. I dropped to the floor, clutching my head, convulsing. Even my voice didn’t sound like mine anymore.
“I don’t even know who you people are—why are you doing this?!”
“Be-cause-you’re-a-whore.”
“I earned everything I have—on my own! What’s so wrong about that?!”
Who would’ve thought that after I said that, they all burst into wild laughter, clutching their stomachs as if it were the funniest thing they’d ever heard.
One of them, still laughing, suddenly spat in my face and glared at me with twisted contempt.
“You did it on your own? What bull. A lowborn angel like you. What’s even there to talk about? Let’s not waste time anymore and cut him down.”
“No. Cutting him down would be too kind.”
A voice murmured from behind. Quiet, but laced with hatred. And something like delight.
I instinctively lifted my head.
Standing in the crowd—was Caro.
He was the one who said it.
Caro tiptoed to whisper something into a nearby angel’s ear. They pinned down my limbs. Then he came forward, crouched in front of me, half-lidded eyes calm, and blew a slow breath in my face.
“Isar. I didn’t really want to do this either.”
I could almost hear my heart sinking.
“…Why?”
“You lied to me about not liking Lord Lucifer—how many tricks have you been pulling behind my back? All these years, and you haven’t changed a bit. You really think Lord Lucifer would fall for you? Look in the mirror, see what kind of trash you are. Don’t think you can act all high and mighty just because that cross-eyed Metatron is backing you. Let me tell you, Lord Uriel dotes on me now. Even if I cut you down, there’s nothing Metatron can do about it.”
“I’ve only talked to Lord Lucifer a few times! How could I possibly—Caro, you’re out of your mind!”
Smack! Smack!
Caro slapped me twice across the face and sneered, “Shut your mouth. Just looking at you makes me sick.”
A nearby angel brought over a bucket, frosted with cold vapor rising from under the lid.
“Oh let me, let me,” Caro said gleefully, weaving graceful shapes in the air with both hands.
Flames curled beneath the ice bucket, crackling and snapping. It drifted toward me, hovered overhead, then flipped and dumped its contents.
Ice water drenched me completely. My wounds, soaked through, screamed with a fresh wave of burning pain.
“You understand thermal expansion and contraction, don’t you? Pulling feathers like this…is a lot more exciting.”
Caro pressed one hand down on my wing, grabbed a handful of feathers with the other, gave them a gentle tug, then yanked.
It was like a subterranean spring had burst—blood arced freely into the air.
I writhed on the ground, throat nearly tearing from the scream.
Caro blew softly into his palm, then brushed the bloodied feather shaft across my face.
The rest of the angels tore at my wings like frenzied beasts. They didn’t pluck feather by feather, but ripped out whole handfuls, even competing over who could take more. When they couldn’t pull anymore, one pinned my wing underfoot while others bent and straightened their knees, using their full body weight to rip.
At first, I screamed and cursed. Then I could only try to shove their hands away and beg. Later, all I could do was flinch and sob softly, trying to curl into some invisible corner. In the end, even moving became impossible.
Feathers, red as snowflakes, scattered through the air. Blood trickled across the floor like crooked streams.
Someone shoved me upright, grabbed my trembling wings, and tried to wrench them over my head. But the bones were too rigid—they wouldn’t bend that way. He wiped his brow, called another over. The two of them pressed down hard, forcing my wings lower and lower…
The sound of bone breaking was low and muffled, yet excruciatingly sharp. Shattered bone pierced through the tender flesh of my wings, like a blade forged inside my body, tearing me apart from within. I threw my head back with a force that nearly dislocated my neck, screaming at the top of my lungs.
And then—everything went black.
…
…
Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip…
The sound of water droplets falling into a clear spring gnawed at my hearing. I slowly opened my eyes.
I shifted slightly, only to find myself slumped against a wall. From above my head, something large, mangled, and bloody dangled down into my view, swaying like an ancient pendulum, heavy and lifeless.
—They were my wings.
I was at the edge of a cliff. Below stretched a vast sea of white cloud, and beneath that, a faint glimpse of an abyss without end.
Caro toyed with a small silver worm, which writhed slowly up and down in his gloved palm. Its pointed head glinted in the light as it burrowed restlessly, as if searching for a dark, enclosed place to hide. Without warning, he seized my wrist and placed it against my artery. Agitated, it leapt forward and began biting at my skin with a frenzy, ten times faster than before. Its ridged body, like the creased brow of a withered elder, sank into my vein inch by inch. Halfway, then a third, a quarter… until all that remained on my wrist was a raw, flesh-colored hole.
Caro dusted off his hands and smiled.
“The Mila worm from the Demon Realm. Demons often raise them to break in their sex slaves. It works wonders on their kind, but an angel’s fragile body won’t be able to feed it for long. You like sleeping around, don’t you? This will help with that. Soon, it’ll drive you into the arms of beastmen and satyrs, no matter the species. Your body will rot. Your face will turn a lovely shade of blue… and in the end, there’ll be nothing left of you but a sheet of sky-colored skin. Isar, enjoy your time in the Demon Realm. Won’t you?”
Staring into the abyss behind me, I heard my own voice, hoarse and trembling. “Caro… you’ve gone too far…!”
“Oh?” Caro tilted his head, then chuckled softly. “Right. There’s something I never told you. I guess I’ll whisper it to you now.”
He leaned in, his tone almost conspiratorial.
“Before Lord Metatron promoted you to Virtues, you spent everything you had to take the Dominions exam. You passed—but somehow, your certification vanished. After that, you went around telling everyone you’d made it, like some kind of fool. And the Powers, they tore into you like you’d lost your mind. If not for that, someone as low-profile as you would’ve stayed obscure. Maybe you wouldn’t have ended up getting your wings clipped over and over.”
He lifted my chin, gazing down with mock sympathy.
“But tell me—why do you think your exam certificate disappeared that day you were supposed to receive your wings?”
He drew a metallic card from his chest pocket. On it, the sky-blue emblem of the Dominions, four wings outstretched, gleamed in the sun.
“Because… it’s been with me all along.”
I stared at it in stunned disbelief.
Caro let out a long sigh. “Isar, I’ve lost sleep over this. Couldn’t eat, couldn’t rest. I thought I’d bury this secret forever and spend the rest of my life making it up to you. But I was wrong…”
He leaned in, voice growing cold. “…Because this is exactly what you deserve.”
With a snap of his fingers, the others lifted me off the ground, swaying me once, twice—then let go.
“You don’t need to grieve, because I’ll be wearing those blue wings for you.”
He tossed the certificate into the air and set it ablaze. Burning fragments fluttered down around me as I plunged into the void.
“Goodbye, Isar,” he said. “And goodbye to your archangelic dreams.”
……
……
“Shishika, quick, quick! There’s a lump of food lying here!”
“Whoa, it’s true! It’s all red… looks kinda tasty.”
“But, but… why does he look more and more like an angel to me?”
“Kakashi, your brain’s toast. Since when are angel wings this beautifully blood-red? You’re so dumb, so dumb.”
“But, but… no matter how I look at him, he really looks like a pretty angel!”
“Let me take a look and I’ll tell you.”
The creature called Shishika lifted one of my wings. My eyes were half-closed, and I saw a pair of blood-red eyes staring back at me. They studied me for a long time, gently lowered my wing, and darted off in a frenzy.
“It really is an angel! HELP!!”
“An angel killed someone! An angel—wait, Shishika why are you running back?!”
“Kill my ass, idiot. He’s just a low-level angel, what could he do to us? Let’s eat him!”
Shishika ran back over and crouched in front of me. “Hey, angel, get up! I’m gonna eat you!”
I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out.
Shishika frowned. “Why does this angel look so weak? …Wait, his beautiful feathers—are they… bloody?”
Kakashi: “Aaaah! I’m scared of blood! I’m scared of blood!!”
Shishika: “Scared of blood?! Are you even a demon?! Get lost, let me—waaah, never mind, I’m scared too…”
I crawled forward a meter or two. “I… where… am I…”
Shishika’s voice trembled: “D-Don’t come near me! I’m telling you—I’m a high-level demon! E-Even if you are an angel, I could totally beat you!”
I couldn’t even see what he looked like clearly. “Let… let me go back…”
Kakashi: “He says he wants to go back. Back to Heaven?”
Shishika: “Dude, do you even know the First Heaven staircase is right behind you? Why the hell did you crawl into the demon realm?”
I couldn’t move another inch. Every shift felt like my tendons were being torn apart.
The First Heaven…
I’m… already below the First Heaven?
Endless darkness stretched out before me. Not far away stood a massive archway, supported by romanesque columns, deep blue in hue. The gate was absurdly large, its pillars on either side vanishing upward into the boundless black mist. Bats hung upside down from the arch, entwined with dark vines and thorny brambles.
Shishika: “He doesn’t really look like a bad guy. Let’s drag him back toward Heaven’s side. If any demons who hate angels spot him, he’s toast…”
Kakashi: “Didn’t you just say you wanted to eat him?”
Shishika: “I thought he looked like a Power! We’re tight with the Powers.”
They pulled me back a few meters. When they saw the blood on me, they panicked and started wiping it with leaves. Even that short distance made the surroundings noticeably brighter.
“Shishika, Kakashi…can you tell me… what’s a Mila worm?”
Kakashi: “Oh goodness, I thought angels were supposed to be smart. You don’t even know what a Mila worm is?”
Shishika: “There are dumb angels too, y’know.”
Kakashi: “Listen up, dumb angel. Don’t you guys hate Mila worms? They’re just little training maggots here in the demon realm, but for regular angels they’re super dangerous. If two angels got physical, and one of them’s carrying Mila worm eggs, the other’s bound to get infected. It’s like a plague for you people. One of your Powers said before, that if you’re found carrying a Mila worm, they’ll toss you out of Heaven.”
Shishika: “Ugh, why are you explaining so much? You’ll catch his dumbness! That’s it, dumb angel, we’re done here. We’re civilized demons!”
And with that, the two little demons scampered off.
I stared at the raw, flesh-colored hole in my wrist, a chill running through my heart.
So this means… I’m going to die?
Caro, you piece of work.
The blood had already dried. When I stretched out my hand, it was covered in red totem-like patterns, sickening to look at. I dragged myself up the steps, my body trembling with each fresh wave of agony.
A clear moon hung high in the sky, and a long stairway stretched straight into its light. I propped myself up and climbed, step by step. Every movement sent a tremor through the lifeless wings on my back. Just knowing they were once a part of me made something shatter in the depths of my mind.
I grabbed my own foot and stared at the thorn embedded in the sole from my fall into the demon realm. Swallowing hard, I saw the blood had already dried. If I pulled it out now…
I gripped the tail of the thorn with both hands, shut my eyes, and yanked it free in one swift motion.
The white jade steps coiled through the air like a dragon rising from the earth.
My bloodstained hands pressed against the staircase. I took a deep breath and forced myself to stand. Swaying on my feet, I looked up at the winding path overhead, vanishing into the clouds. I tried to focus—there wasn’t much space to walk. With my wings mutilated, one wrong step meant falling off the edge: death, or starting all over again.
I gritted through the pain and kept climbing, one step at a time.
Don’t sigh.
Every sigh chips away at your confidence.
Keep reminding yourself: I can do anything.
Moon in the heavens. Heaven in the moon. I whispered words in my heart like a mantra: just ten more steps, and I’ll see those snow-white buildings, the Sixth Heaven.
……
……
I had been unconscious for a full day and night in the thickets outside Shima. When I finally came to, I learned I had woken just in time for Uriel’s family banquet. Passing angels whispered that both Lord Metatron and Gabriel would be in attendance. Afraid of being cast into the demon realm again as a potential source of contagion, I crept cautiously through the forest, aiming for Uriel’s residence, hoping to find Metatron inside.
But the woods were alive with the constant rustling of leaves. The howling of the wind sounded distant—like it came from thousands of meters away. Every step was torment. Every step sent the world spinning. I tilted my head back, blinking up at the sky… until at last, I saw it: the deep blue castle.
Angels moved with elegance and poise, dressed in finery as they entered the banquet hall. A few lingered outside, gathered around the Mirror of Thunder, watching as it revealed the figure who held the greatest sway over their hearts.
As I stepped across the threshold of Uriel’s estate, many paused to look at me. Most simply recoiled in disgust. I no longer had the strength to care what they thought. Clutching the silver chain tightly in my hand, I climbed the final steps.
Metatron is right inside…
I stumbled forward, vision blurring, until the rose-colored carpet and bronze pillars gradually came into view.
At the door, someone tried to stop me. I was prepared to force my way through, but the moment he saw the silver chain in my hand, he paled and stepped aside.
In the center of the grand hall stood two angels. One was a golden six-winged Seraph, the other a four-winged Virtue in white. The Seraph wore a muted blue tunic, violet hair parted cleanly down the middle, a longsword hanging at his waist, its hilt engraved with the sigil of lightning.
Uriel was holding up an oil painting, speaking with solemn pride. “This piece is Lord Lucifer’s Sunset over Jerusalem. It captures the dusk outside the holy city with haunting precision, as if the scene itself were sealed within the frame…”
And just then, I entered the hall.
The entire room fell silent.
Uriel paused mid-presentation, visibly displeased. “May I ask whether you received an invitation from me, sir?”
“I need to see His Highness Metatron.”
“His Highness has not yet arrived. If you were not sent an invitation, please wait outside the hall.”
The Virtue beside him chuckled. “Sir, Lord Uriel’s carpet is brand new. Cost over forty thousand gold.”
I turned my head toward him—and froze.
At first, I hadn’t even recognized him beneath the opulence. But there he stood: Caro, draped in a sheer cloak, white gloves on his hands, one holding a glass of red wine while the other rested theatrically on his opposite elbow… A posture strikingly familiar.
“I understand. I’ll wait outside for His Highness Metatron,” I said, smiling as I glanced at him. “Caro, you’ve really fallen deep. Every step, every gesture. What an imitation.”
“Still better than you, wouldn’t you say? Being a performing clown must be exhausting, dear Isar,” Caro’s expression darkened. He tightened his grip on the wine glass. “I’m quite curious, why haven’t you died yet?”
Before I could answer, his hand flicked forward. The red wine splashed across my face.
Whispers immediately rippled through the room.
Wine stung my eyes as it ran down my face. I wiped it away with the back of my hand, still reeling—only to be slapped hard, twice, across the face.
“This is no place for low-ranks. Get out.”
I stumbled back several steps. Just as I thought I’d fall again, a pair of hands caught me.
As my vision cleared, I witnessed a stunning scene: Gabriel stormed past me, seized Caro by the collar, and—smack smack smack smack—delivered a rapid barrage of slaps, a dozen or more in quick succession.
Everyone, including me, was stunned speechless.
Just when it seemed Gabriel might go on slapping him until nightfall, Uriel suddenly grabbed her wrist.
“Lady Gabriel, this is my residence. Please respect my people.”
“Alright then, I’ll pick this up another day.” Gabriel said coolly, brushing her hands off. She turned to me, an air of frosty elegance. “That low-grade Caro keeps spreading lies about me. I wasn’t doing this for you.”
Caro’s face was swollen high and red, like someone had dumped boiling pig’s blood over it. Meanwhile, Gabriel calmly tidied her golden curls, as pristine and flawless as a porcelain doll.
Only then did I realize someone was still supporting me. Before I could turn to see who it was, a familiar voice rang out from behind:
“Uriel, I know it’s wrong to strike someone’s dog in their own house. But what if your dog bit my lover. What then?”
Uriel’s face remained stiff, clearly in no mood for this. “Lord Metatron, please show some respect. Caro is also my lover. Whatever personal disputes exist, this is not the place to resolve them.”
Metatron’s fingers trembled slightly, though his voice retained its usual mocking lilt: “Well, I’m resolving it here and now. What are you going to do about it?”
“Lord Metatron, you may be Heaven’s Chancellor, but our ranks are equal. You have no authority over my conduct.”
“Unfortunate. I always act on instinct,” Metatron replied—and with that, he raised his hand. A blaze of fire erupted in his palm, casting a roar of heat and light through the entire hall.
Gasps filled the room.
Uriel set aside the painting in his hand and raised his arms in turn, lightning cracking and weaving between his palms with deafening intensity.
But then, another voice called out behind us:
“Enough.”
Everyone turned.
There stood a six-winged angel, clad in silken white robes, arms folded over a pair of snow-white gloves.
Uriel, like a drowning man clutching at a lifeline, immediately bowed and pleaded, “Please, Lord Lucifer, uphold justice.”
Lucifer’s tone was solemn and commanding: “Metatron, the Divine Codex is clear—no angel has the right to punish another of equal rank.”
“…Yes, understood.” Metatron extinguished the flames in his hand, drew his cloak forward to shield me, and pulled me into his arms.
“Return and accept your punishment.”
“…Yes.” Metatron’s voice was tinged with reluctance.
Uriel and Caro both smiled.
Then Lucifer clapped, once. “Come.”
The crowd parted instinctively. In perfect formation, the angelic army marched into the hall, filling it wall to wall.
Lucifer pointed calmly at the two figures before him. “One pair of Uriel’s wings—cut them off. Caro’s head—cut it off. Don’t leave the filth in Heaven. Throw them out.”
Uriel paled, eyes wide with disbelief. “Your Highness… why?”
Lucifer’s lips curved, his eyes utterly devoid of warmth.
“Because I feel like it.”
Author: Tav Tav
Translating
The Right Wing of God, the one seated at the right hand of the Most High.
