5-1

Shima’s night always comes late.

Maybe it’s because the days are so long or maybe it’s just the stress of new surroundings, ever since arriving, I hadn’t been able to sleep.

That night, after tossing and turning for three or four hours with my mind still buzzing, I finally got up and wandered around the house.

I’d never paid much attention to the layout before, but after a few days here, I finally realized there was a balcony tucked into the stairwell.

By now, night had nearly fallen, another brief sliver of darkness descending on the City of Ideals. Stars blanketed the deep blue sky like a vast, glittering net. Velvety clouds drifted in the heavens, half-veiling the sweeping Milky Way.

A small crystal-framed doorway held the world beyond like a painting—and in that frame, one structure stood out among the distant sea of rooftops: a cathedral, luminous and still. In that moment, the starlight crowned its golden dome and bathed the silver cross that pierced the clouds above, as if all the splendor and brilliance of the night were distilled there.

I pushed open the door and stepped onto the balcony, Shima’s breathtaking beauty unfolding in panorama.

From this height, the city’s alabaster sprawl stretched in every direction. The feeling of truly standing in paradise struck me in full force.

The daytime classes were intense, and with Caro constantly clinging to me, I had zero time to myself. So I decided to sneak out under the cover of night and took off toward the cathedral I’d seen from the balcony.

Only upon standing before it did I realize its true magnificence—the sheer size of it made even the white columns look like ancient giants, each as thick as four or five men. Standing beneath its towering archway, I felt like an ant. On either side of the entrance burned golden lanterns. Glowing relief panels bore two engraved lines:

Cathedral of Ruthfel

Berduth 1000, Year 1, January 1

Judging from the ancient date and symbolic timing, a smaller inscription explained that the cathedral was a gift from God to an angel named Ruthfel, bestowed in the thousandth Berduth after Creation.

I skimmed the rest of the inscription and stepped through the towering open doors.

Inside the cathedral, the vaulted ceiling bore paintings of God and the angels, their colors reflecting softly against the muted candlelight of the chandeliers. Candles lined the interior from end to end, bathing the white flowers before the stained-glass windows in a gentle gold. The alcoves along the walls were filled with classical murals, each one illuminated by floating orbs of light above.

At the far end of the cathedral, a lone figure stood beneath the towering crucifix.

He wore a floor-length white robe, with a coifed hood that concealed even his hair. His was tall and that solitary sweep of white blended seamlessly into the sanctuary around him, as if he had been born of this place, grown here like one of its own.

After what happened with Raphael, I’d learned my lesson. No more assuming someone had no wings or only two and act like they were simply kept hidden instead.

He seemed to be gazing at the crucifix the entire time, neither praying nor moving.

Brilliant starlight filtered through the window lattice, falling quietly upon him.

Without realizing it, my feet carried me forward. I stepped onto the long carpet and stopped behind him.

“Um…” I spoke softly, afraid of startling him. “Excuse me, are you…”

Before I could finish, he had already turned slightly: “Leave.”

He didn’t look at me. I didn’t see his full face either. And yet—just that simple command and a glimpse of his profile—was enough to freeze my heartbeat.

It wasn’t like the awe I’d felt upon seeing the other archangels.

No. His voice, those lowered lashes, everything in that moment drowned me in a stillness that suffocated all my senses.

I didn’t understand why just seeing a profile would affect me like that. All I could do was remind myself, rationally, that Caro had warned me to tread carefully on the Sixth Heaven. Too many beasts hiding in plain sight.

Anyone who’d speak to me in that kind of commanding tone was definitely not ordinary.

“Sorry,” I blurted. “I was just passing through. I’ll leave now.”

But he looked up sharply and then turned to face me.

The moment our eyes met, that sensation I thought had faded came crashing back, only now it was a hundred fold stronger, overwhelming, paralyzing, bleak. Like invisible claws clenched around my he

art. A high-pitched ringing erupted in my head, and the pain wasn’t just emotional anymore, it had invaded my physical body, my eyes welling up despite my frenzied grasp to take back control.

Until he spoke.

“…Isar?”

I rattled my head, finally snapping out of it enough to take in his appearance: his eyes were sky blue, and beneath the white brim of his robe flowed a cascade of golden hair, shimmering like water. Even his eyelashes were so pale they seemed spun from starlight. Height, figure, features, and presence—all of it eclipsed every other archangel by a chasmic margin, so unblemished that it left no room even for envy.

It was only then, belatedly, that I bowed to him.

“Lord Lucifer.”

Silently, I cursed myself—clearly I’d been infected by Mei. To think I’d get so worked up over a dude that my chest hurt, scalp tingled, and eyes watered. What kind of hopeless fangirl level had I reached?

“It’s late. What are you here for?” Lucifer asked coolly.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I came out to wander a bit. And you, Your Highness?”

The strangest thing was, his features were exactly the same as Yang Lu’s—yet when I looked at Yang Lu, all I wanted to do was punch him, while just seeing this man made me want to kneel. How could the same face carry such vastly different auras? Was it that after the Fall, even his temperament had fallen with him?

Just as I was trying to figure out how to bring up the topic of returning to the human world, Lucifer’s deep eyes suddenly narrowed. He turned away, his back to me again.

“Leave.”

“…Huh?”

“I said leave.”

“Wait, Your Highness—it’s rare to even run into you. I have something I really need to ask—”

“There’s nothing for us to talk about,” Lucifer stated coldly. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

And so I left, just like that.

He recognized me instantly as Isar, one of those random Power angels you could grab from anywhere from the streets, and still looked so annoyed just to glance my way. That could only mean one thing: Isar really had harassed him in the past.

But seriously—why do I have to pay for this? I’ve got nothing to do with him, with Isar, with any of it! I got hit by a car and dumped into this half-human, half-ghost world for no damn reason—who’s footing the bill for my misfortune?

Seething with rage, I stormed back home, waking Caro, right from what was clearly a very sweet, hormonal dream.

A few days later. Divine Law Academy.

I hadn’t been here long before I found myself sighing at how money ruled in Shima. Divine Law might’ve been just a school, but a single meal here cost five silver coins. One glass of water? One silver. A trip to the bathroom? Three copper. Of course, the environment and quality were impeccable—the restroom looked nicer than my house’s upper floors. There was harp music playing to cover up the sound of peeing, and the toilets were fully automatic: flushing, washing, drying. Even the faucet dispensed both soap and water from the same spout…

Life was pleasant, but our pockets were draining fast. A small pouch of gold coins could barely support two people for long. I told Caro that we were running low on funds and both needed to find jobs.

To which Caro flatly replied: “Isar, how long are you planning on playing dumb?”

“I don’t get what you mean.”

“I heard it back in Jerusalem, your conversation with that street vendor. A Throne gave you gold coins.” Caro narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t lose your memory at all, did you? You’re just putting on a show now because you’ve pissed off someone powerful. Since I’ve already agreed to be your shelter from the storm, don’t you think it’s a bit shady to still haggle with me?”

I was momentarily stunned. “That vendor did give me some money, but it’s nowhere near enough. Let’s each find a job.”

“Find work in Shima to support ourselves? Do you think you’re a four-wing or six-wing? With our realm’s rigid hierarchy, here, you don’t even count as livestock, yet you want a salary? Honestly, the archangels letting you come here means they’re not going to let you starve. If you just go talk to Lord Metatron again, none of this would be a problem…”

“Caro, neither of us is going to beg for money.”

By that point, Caro didn’t even wait for me to finish. He straight up rolled his eyes and walked off, quickening his pace.

I was left aside for no reason and felt a bit annoyed, so I went for a walk in the surrounding woods. But as soon as I stepped into the forest, I saw a group of four-wings descending from the sky and landing. A rustling in the bushes—followed by a girl’s sharp scream…

I followed the noise, sneaking through the undergrowth, and saw the male angel who had accompanied the girl being yanked by the hair. One of the armored four-wings shoved his face into the dirt and growled, “Thinking of resisting?”

He had barely finished the sentence when four-wing Beta reached out and stroked the female angel’s wings. She shuddered all over from anxiety, tears spilling down her cheeks.

Four-wing Alpha released the male angel and stood before the group of higher ranks with his arms crossed, grinning. “I’ll give you three seconds. Get lost. One—”

One.

He didn’t even finish the count before the male angel flapped his wings frantically and dashed off.

“Y-you get back here!” the girl cried out in panic after her partner—but he was already gone.

Those four-winged angels closed in around her, groping her wings without restraint. Caro had once told me that touching another angel’s wings was something only done between the closest of partners—otherwise, it was considered both rude and depraved. I still didn’t entirely understand, but seeing the female angel’s face full of shame and humiliation, I finally couldn’t hold back anymore.

I flew toward the clearing where they had surrounded her. There was a fountain near by, crystalline bubbles and wispy clouds afloat. At the center of the pool stood a statue: a little angel riding a dragon. The dragon was gilded all over, vividly lifelike. Atop it, the child angel sported short golden hair and seemingly soft, pink cheeks, holding a pale gray feather in gloved hands.

When I looked closer, I realized with a jolt.

Not a statue. A living person.

Sunlight spilled across the little angel, outlining his form in soft gold. His pale lashes trembled faintly in the rainbow-filtered light, as if they carried the radiance of the highest heavens themselves…

But the moment was ruined by the crude voices of the thugs nearby:

“Hey, your lover ditched you—why not just come with us instead?”

“N-No, he just got lost!”

The child sitting atop the golden dragon subtly flicked his fingers, not even bothering to look directly at the congregation. He simply went on gazing quietly at the feather in his hand, while the tiny boots on his feet glinted with gold.

The group of male angels completely ignored him, treating the child as if he were invisible, and again reached their lecherous hands toward the girl’s wings, when I shouted at the top of my lungs: “Let her go!”

Everyone turned to look at me, including the little brat sitting atop the golden dragon.

The female angel was clearly surprised at first—but the moment she saw my wings, her expression dimmed with disappointment.

“Well well, look who it is,” one of the angels sneered. “Isn’t this Isar, who slept his way into Shima on archangelic coattails?”

Without a second thought, I grabbed the girl’s hand and sprinted toward the edge of the woods. But we had barely taken a few steps when—whoosh—a wall of blue magic waterfall crashed down between the trees.

We staggered backward, and the waterfall only surged higher, nearly encircling us.

I shoved the girl behind me, raised a tree branch like a sword, and pointed past the gang of angels:

“Look! God is right behind you!”

Their expressions, upon hearing me, were like they’d just heard one of Metatron jokes.

I panicked and quickly blurted, “Wait—uh, y’all like to listen to harps?”

No response.

I pressed on: “God chose the harp as Heaven’s symbolic instrument, ever wonder why?”

Still nothing.

Undeterred, I added, “There are souls sealed inside harps. Only Lucifer knows this. He told me himself. You didn’t know that, did you?”

By now, they’d already reached for me. With no other options left, I curled up, shielding my head, and screamed my final trump card:

“LUCIFER IS GAY!!!”

……

One hour later.

“…I’m telling you, back when Lucifer was befriending Lord Raphael, he had fifty-three lovers at the same time. Everyone at Divine Law knows—Lucifer studied the Heavenly Language just to write love letters, learned Divine Numerics to count gold, learned magic to blow up his rivals, and memorized Celestial History just to seduce ladies from all three realms! In the end, even God couldn’t do anything with him and sent him to the Academy of the Seventh. But once he got there, in just a week, he accidentally cut off the wings of seventy-five angels…”

“Seriously? You’re not making this up, right?”

“Hello? Do I gain anything by slandering him? Think about it,” I went on spinning nonsense. “You know, his orientation has always been a mystery—but his interest in men? Absolutely unquestionable…”

Lucifer, you were unkind to me, so don’t blame me for being ruthless in return. You brought this on yourself!

As I rambled on, weaving wild tales, my eyes darted nervously, only to catch sight of the small golden-haired angel who had silently flown up behind me.

He hovered midair, short hair sparkling as if he’d just tumbled out of a pile of gold dust, with a playful tuft sticking up at the crown of his head, swaying with the breeze. His appearance was dazzling—almost painfully so, eyes wide and luminous, like shattered pieces of ice-blue sapphire. But what caught my attention most were his wings: small, strangely, brighter than silver, more refined than gold, and faintly aglow with a light all their own…

“Issar, you’ve got some nerve,” he said in a tone far too mature for his age, a miniature grown-up. “Slandering like that in Shima, think you won’t die fast enough?”

This little brat… what’s with that tone? Seriously irritating.

I was just about to snap back when another voice drifted over: “Th-th-th-th-there—who’s over th-th-th-th-there?”

The voice stuttered like a jammed tape recorder, yet somehow carried an uncanny power. The nearby four-wings glanced at each other in surprise, then suddenly shot into the sky, vanishing without a trace.

“Hey, you!” I crooked a finger at the little angel. “Big bro won’t bully you, but today you will learn some basic manners abou—”

Before I could finish, he squinted at me and casually pointed to the sky.

BOOM.

A thunderclap split the air, and I instinctively leapt back!

CRACK!

A deafening roar shook the earth, scorching a massive crater into the ground. Thick white mist billowed up from the hole, churning like steam.

I sweated a waterfall.

Cold sweat poured down my back.

This little angel’s lightning wasn’t like anyone else’s—not only was it loud, it was an upgraded version. More terrifyingly, he didn’t even chant or anything. Just pointed, and the thunder fell—instantaneous.

So this is what the Sixth Heaven was like… Even the children were monsters.

Just then, the stuttering, tape-recorder-like voice grew closer:

“Wh-who-who-who, who’s th-th-there… c-c-come out, now…”

I darted forward and grabbed the little brat’s hands before he could call down another bolt of lightning. He widened his eyes, first looking at my hands, then up at me, his voice crisp like a wind flute:

“Insolence!”

“Pffft—hahaha!” I clutched his hands tighter, laughing uncontrollably. “Y-you—you little farthead, talking like some tiny tyrant, this is priceless!”

The little angel couldn’t pull his hands free. Suddenly, he shouted:

“Sandalphon!”

A voice echoed almost immediately in reply:

“Y-y-yes-yes-yes, I-I-I’m c-c-coming!”

So the skipping-record voice belonged to none other than my idol—Sandalphon, the author of Sins of the Imperial Libertines.

I turned to look. A tall, slender man was walking toward us from behind. His was pale, speckled with freckles, and he wore a crown of flowers on his head and a black cloak over his shoulders. So that’s what the laurel and robe on the coin meant. They said that strange cloak of his was infused with energy—the more people looked at him, the more powerful he became. No wonder he could write something as outrageous as The Sins.

I let go of the little angel’s hands and bowed slightly toward my idol.

“Lord Sandalphon.”

Sandalphon responded halfheartedly, but the moment he caught sight of the boy, he broke into a nervous sweat.

“W-w-why are y-y-you here, Your Your Your… You didn’t t-t-tell us. Lululu—ow!”

A little crackle of lightning struck Sandalphon square on the forehead.

He let out a miserable yelp—then instantly returned to his flustered, mother-hen state:

“Y-y-y-y-young master, p-p-p-please come back with m-me! It’s not safe for y-y-y-you to be out here al-alone…”

“I’m not going back.”

The little angel zipped ahead on his own for a stretch, then suddenly turned back and pointed straight at me:

“Cut off his wings.”

It was so casual, as if he was saying, “Fetch me an egg.”

“W-w-w-why…”

“You plan to disobey?”

“N-n-n-no, of c-course not.”

Swallowing my rage, I bowed and dashed to the child, grabbing his hand. “I’m sorry, Young Master.” As he flung mine, I slipped one of his feathers into my pocket to examine later.

“Young Master, I was only trying to help that girl just now. I didn’t mean to offend you. You’re so adorable, you must be kind too. Don’t take it out on your big brother, yeah?”

The little angel’s gaze sharpened ever so slightly. “… Sandalphon, you may go.”

“Y-y-y-yes, I-I-I-I shall withdraw.”

And Sandalphon obediently bid farewell, sneaking one last pitiful glance at the little angel. “Y-young Master, you’re truly merciful…”

The little angel’s face darkened. “I’ll let you off today—but next time, I might not. If you want to survive here, you’d best learn to hold your tongue.”

This brat clearly came from some terrifying background. His wings might be small now, not yet fully formed or colored, but who knew how many more would sprout in the future?

But still—

I’d already endured Lucifer’s condescension. Was I really supposed to take it from this pint-sized squirt too?

“Y-y-y-y-y-young Master, you’re just t-t-t-too cute, so—so—so let big brother take you home as a souvenir,” I said, patting his soft golden fluff. Then, casually, I popped my thumb and middle finger and gave that upward-curling tuft in the center a flick.

The little angel’s eyes widened, just about to say something, but before he could, I grabbed both his hands and tugged on his two little wings.

“You rotten ass kid, so rude, no respect for your elders. You seriously told someone to chop up a guy way older than you? Go home and tell your mom to sign you up for etiquette class!”

Seeing the overbearing glare in his eyes only made me angrier. I picked him up and spun him around a few times, holding his little hands down and flipping him upside down, giving him a few good shakes.

“What? You mad now? You think you can take me on, looking like this? Who do you think you are—Lucifer or something? Always telling me to watch this, watch that, can’t say anything, can’t do anything, even just looking at a cathedral gets me thrown out! You people with your eyes on top of your heads, looking down on everyone!”

I glared at him, shouting, “What are you staring at? Go on—strike me with lightning! If you don’t, you’re not even a man! Do it—strike—!”

At that point, I couldn’t speak anymore.

Dangling upside down in my hands, the little farthead’s fluffy hair bounced like springs in the air. From the slit in the back of his robes, a wing slipped out.

I gave him another shake—another wing fell loose.

Again—a third.

Then, like candy dropping from a jar, wings kept spilling out…

Finally, I counted them.

One, two, three, four, five, six. One, two, three, four, five, six.

No mistake.

Six wings.

Each a luminous blend of gold and silver and glowing.

He might very well turn out to be a golden six-winger someday — a mighty archangel on par with the likes of Metatron, his future limitless.

And yet… his face looked strangely familiar.

…Who did he look like again?

Just then, a gleaming cloud swept in from the sky. Blazing colors burst forth with thunderclaps, torrential rain, gale-force winds, and searing fire — all of it barreling straight for my face. I slowly tilted my head up…

God help me.

I told you, letting little fartheads run wild is a bad, bad idea.