Content warning: Issue of consent
Back when I was Lucifer’s Favored Angel, I tried more than once to get close to him. But Heaven at the time was even more conservative than it is now; most couples practiced a purely platonic form of love. Every time I tried to approach him, he saw right through my clumsy intentions and would withdraw without being affected. Every night, all I could do was pace around the vast courtyard of the manor like a little dog, watching the starlight spill through the branches like lightning-torn cobwebs. And when I finally managed to catch him coming home, I would just flap my wings nervously behind him, like a puppy chasing its tail. Sometimes, under the moonlight, he would glance back at me with his cold eyes, smile faintly, then curl a finger to summon me to serve him.
After my one intimate encounter with Metatron, I never told him any of this. But after enduring Metatron’s teasing and quarreling with him several times, I started studying the scandalous behaviors of all kinds of Favored Angels in the red-light district and finally understood what I’d been doing wrong. From then on, I swallowed my pride and stopped sulking with Metatron. Instead, with the perseverance I’d once reserved for clinging to Lucifer, I followed Metatron around, asking him for tips on how to be seductive.
Metatron hadn’t been interested in my innocence at first, but once I started treating him as a teacher, he gradually became intoxicated with the role. We met up several more times at hotels. He would often lean lazily against the headboard, chin resting in his palm, arrogantly pointing out my flaws, then proceed to demonstrate, exhausting me in the process.
At the time, I had no idea that what was happening between us was something unspeakable. So unlike with Lucifer, I didn’t bother to be secretive with Metatron. After reconnecting with Caro, even he knew about the mess between Metatron and me. Looking back, it was a little ridiculous—I really did see Metatron as my teacher. One afternoon, I ran into him on a street in Shima and, without hesitation, flew up to a floating tea lounge to wave at him: “Lord Metatron!”
He had been drinking tea. The moment he saw me, he choked and coughed violently. Several impeccably dressed seraphs were seated beside him. I recognized only Randekiel and Gabriel, but the rest, too, were seraphs and clearly prominent figures in Saint Faylia. Upon hearing my voice, they turned to glance at me, saw that I was just a low-ranking angel, and went right back to their conversation.
Metatron set down his cup awkwardly. “Oh, little Isar, what are you doing here?”
“I was just passing by. What a coincidence,” I replied naturally.
He almost never wore glasses when out at night. His honey-colored hair was always styled messily but fashionably, sometimes falling over half his face, though it never concealed the licentious gleam in his eyes. During the day, his tone remained flippant, but he was clearly more composed. Especially now—with a pair of gold-chained glasses perched on his nose and a book open halfway in his hand—he looked like an entirely different person. Almost deliberately, he pushed his glasses up with a gloved finger and didn’t look directly at me. “Careful flying up here. Don’t land on your butt.”
I found the contrast quite amusing and grinned brightly. “Alright then, I’ll be off.”
Maybe my grin was too dopey, but behind his thin lenses, something flickered in his expression. I didn’t dwell on it, just turned and flew away. Not long after, the shadow of six enormous wings blotted out the light above me. I paused midair to see Metatron flying up to meet me. “Are you free tonight? Let’s hang out.”
“Maybe another time. I’ve got something to do tonight.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
“It’s set then.” He reached out his large hand to ruffle my hair. “Seven o’clock tomorrow night. Meet me in front of Divine Law.”
That was unusual for him since he usually only went out at night. Was he really planning to start that early? His stamina was terrifying. But he was my teacher and superior, so if he said seven, then seven it was.
That same afternoon, I returned to Lucifer’s manor, put on an apron and a head wrap, rolled up my sleeves, and started cleaning. The “something” I’d mentioned to Metatron was this—housekeeping. The place was enormous, and when I lived there, I handled all the chores myself. I used to be so bored I’d scrub the floors until they shone. But now that I’d been away for a month, the dust had settled again. I flew from room to room, cleaning the ceilings, polishing the chandeliers, sweeping and mopping, using wind and water magic when needed. By nightfall, I’d only finished the first round.
Exhausted, I sat cross-legged on the floor, mop in my arms, nibbling a piece of bread for half an hour, too tired to move. Then I spun a glowing feather I’d found while cleaning—and suddenly, I was filled with energy. In just a few more days, my month-long leave would be over. If Lucifer returned and saw the place spotless, maybe, just maybe, he’d stay a little longer.
Just the thought made me smile. I stood up to resume cleaning. But the moment I pushed the mop forward, the door creaked open. I froze and stared at it. As the soundproofing was breached, I heard the whiny voices of youngsters.
“Don’t pay attention to him—spoil me first!”
“That’s nonsense! I’m obviously prettier. Your Highness, I’m older than him. I can do things he can’t…”
When the door opened fully, Lucifer entered—with two other Dominions in tow. They looked nearly identical, around my height and age, with ocean-blue eyes and red hair like blooming roses under starlight. Such hair was rare in Heaven. Aside from my mother and me, I’d seen fewer than a hundred red-haired angels. The rarity, plus verbiage like “Michael of red and white roses,” resulted in red-haired, fair-skinned youths to be considered as the height of beauty. Angels like them could get away with anything, and their casual glances already revealed their arrogance.
But in front of Lucifer, they acted like lovesick kittens, clinging to his cloak without the slightest pride.
Lucifer looked up and met my gaze. The air froze. The two boys, socially-savvy, sensed the tension and immediately went silent. Lucifer waved them off. “You two go home.”
“But—” the younger one clung to his arm. He was promptly dragged away by the other.
Now, the vast sitting room held only Lucifer and me.
For the first time, he didn’t have me remove his cloak. He undid it himself and tossed it on the sofa. “What brings you home today?”
His calm tone utterly infuriated me. I finally realized what a joke I must have seemed to him. No matter how long I’d been gone, or what seductive tricks I’d learned from others, I’d never be able to keep him for myself.
I slammed the mop to the floor with a crash, threw the manor key on the table, and stormed toward the door.
But Lucifer reached out his arm and blocked my way.
“Where are you going?” His blue eyes were icy.
“Somewhere I belong.”
“And where would that be?”
“Anywhere that’s not here!” I shouted, on the verge of tears. I shoved his arm. “I’ve had enough of you! If you don’t like me, why give me false hope? If you never planned to be with me, why make me give you so much? You have so many admirers, why play with my heart? If I’d known it would come to this, I should’ve told you who I really am from the start. You probably never guessed. I’m—”
“Michael.”
I froze.
“I knew from the beginning that you’re Michael.”
It was like all my anger was sucked out in a heartbeat. I looked up at him, clutching my chest, voice barely a whisper. “So… you meant to do this… What did I ever do to make you hate me so much…”
He looked down at me coldly, then reached out and took hold of my trembling hand. The memory of him once kicking me was too vivid—I flinched, bracing for him to shove me away again. But his hand didn’t let go.
Instead, his other arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me into his chest. I looked down at him, then lifted my face in shock—only for his lips to meet mine.
What… what is happening?
I was frozen like a wooden statue, all the dozens of kissing techniques I’d learned from Metatron vanishing into thin air. It was already a miracle I didn’t collapse from sheer nervousness. But Lucifer ended the kiss soon after, resting his forehead against mine in a brief silence. I was too tense to move, trembling slightly despite myself.
Finally, he said in a low voice, “Those two kids—they were here to sing for me.”
“S-Sing?” I couldn’t register a word he was saying. My heartbeat was pounding so violently it felt like it would burst out of my chest.
“Mm. They’re members of the Sanctum choir. I didn’t lay a finger on them.” He let go of me and led me toward the sofa.
“I-I see…”
At that point, the conversation didn’t even matter anymore. I had no mental capacity left for it because my mind was consumed by that kiss. I watched him sit down on the sofa, then tug me onto his lap. I became even more nervous than before, turning from wood to stone. He couldn’t help but laugh. “Why are you so scared?”
“O-Of course I’m scared!” I was stammering badly, but I deliberately raised my voice to cover my panic. “B-Back then you wouldn’t even let me take half a step near you…”
I was both bewildered and furious with myself. After everything I’d done with Metatron—things I can’t even say out loud—you’d think I’d be seductive by now, ready to kiss Lucifer breathless. But the moment I realized it was him holding me, I was completely stunned. I couldn’t even dare to think about that kiss, much less do anything beyond it.
“You’ll get used to it from now on.”
And then he kissed me again.
To be entwined with him like this—there was perhaps no greater happiness in the world. No matter how slow, every moment made my heart race like a first love. No matter how many times he kissed me, I felt constantly cherished, protected, and deeply loved. That feeling made me want to give him everything I had in return, but more often than not, I was so overwhelmed I didn’t know how. Yet after every intimate moment, I’d find myself quietly wondering if that feeling was just a beautiful illusion. Perhaps he was simply the kind of man one falls for helplessly, whether love was involved or not.
“You still have a few days of vacation,” he said between kisses, his voice gentle. “But I won’t lock you in here anymore, so come back tomorrow.”
I almost answered “yes” without thinking, but paused, then shook my head. “I have something I need to take care of in Shima tomorrow. Can I come back the day after?”
“Your place at Tanakh Garden?”
“Yes.”
“Alright then. Come back the day after.”
He’d never treated me with this much affection before, and I couldn’t adjust to it. I imagined countless reasons in my head, but never dared to believe that maybe he missed me. We whispered on the sofa for a while longer, and then he carried me in his arms up the stairs.
“Where are we going?” I twisted my head to look at him.
“The bedroom.”
“F-For what?”
He chuckled softly. “What do you think?”
I panicked. “No! I—I don’t have any experience, not today…”
“I know you don’t. It’s fine, I’ll teach you.”
“No, no, no!” I struggled frantically. “I’m not ready today, I really can’t… let’s do this another time!”
Lucifer paused—clearly surprised I was refusing him—but soon smiled again. “Alright. I’ll give you time. We’ll just sleep tonight.”
And he really didn’t touch me.
Once we entered the bedroom, he placed me gently on the bed, undressed himself, and lay beside me. Unlike before, he didn’t keep his distance. Instead, he held me tightly in his arms, falling asleep with me. It took me a long time to calm down. I closed my eyes, but I didn’t fall asleep until three or four in the morning.
Not only so, the next day, he came back early from the Sanctum and spent the whole day at home. And in that one day, he had changed in so many ways: he shared his books with me, fed me while eating, asked me to hold sliced fruit in my mouth to feed him, intertwined our fingers for no reason, kissed me often, held me constantly…
I spent the day in anxious wonder, gradually thinking I had understood the real reason: that he had decided to make me his Favored Angel officially.
As I became more certain of that, my joy drowned out all other thought. And so I was even more determined that when the time came for our first time together, I would give it everything I had. I couldn’t let him down.
That evening, I met up with Metatron at Divine Law.
Even back in that era, the Academy was already an old institution. The hedges were neatly trimmed, and nestled among them were Shima’s signature silver-white roses, glowing faintly as they sprawled toward the towering buildings at the end of the path. Broken cobblestone bridges arched through the air, linking floating structures. The main teaching hall had stained-glass windows set deep into wide stone sills. A female angel stood beside the sheer white drapes of the aerial altar, reading under the gentle flapping of her wings, which mirrored the rhythmic creaking of the windows in the wind.
Even in the dense crowd of students, Metatron’s honey-blond hair shouldn’t have stood out, yet, strangely, I spotted him right away, even without his wings unfurled. Because, once again, he was wearing a bright red hat.
“Good evening, little Isar.” This man was completely different from his daytime self. Without his glasses, he always looked a bit roguish. “I’m taking you to a wonderful dessert shop tonight. I guarantee you’ll walk out of there as round as a dinner roll.”
“…Dessert shop?” I thought I must’ve misheard.
“That’s right. A cute kid like you isn’t a proper student unless they eat desserts.”
I spent quite some time trying to decode what he meant by that.
No matter how I tried to turn him down, I was still dragged to the so-called dessert shop. The place was crawling with couples. Metatron flashed an archangel’s exemption token to skip the line and bought an array of beautiful cakes and cookies just for me. The worst part was—he didn’t even seem to like sweets himself. So the entire time, it was just me eating while he stared, making my skin crawl. I never understood his motives, but I knew I couldn’t waste any more time.
After eating, he wanted to take me to a harp performance. I insisted on heading home instead.
“I still want to ask you some questions today,” I said stiffly. “So can we go back to my place first? Next time, I’ll go anywhere you like.”
Metatron’s expression turned suggestive at once. “So little Isar is more forward than I thought.”
Getting Metatron to decline an invitation with a hint of indecency was harder than getting Gabriel to accept one. Without hesitation, he followed me home and even started nibbling at my ear before I had the door unlocked.
He kept teasing me all the way into the bedroom. I pushed him away. “Wait, Lord Metatron, not so fast today. I really do want to learn how to seduce someone by myself. This is important.”
“Oh? Quite the ambitious child. You want to try something new then.” Metatron was generous enough to lean back against the bedframe and cross his legs. “Alright, give it a shot. I’ll guide you as we go.”
I scratched my head. “How do I start…”
“Undress me.”
I nodded, approaching with stiff seriousness as I began removing his clothes piece by piece.
Metatron let out a long sigh, looking at me with deep sympathy as he ruffled my curls. “So obediently adorable… are you undressing a doll or what?”
“Then what should I do?”
“Be a little seductive. Think about how I undress you.”
“I’ll… I’ll try. Just correct me if I mess up.”
…
Three hours later, the skies over Shima were beginning to turn leaden gray. I rolled off of Metatron, sprawled face-down on the bed, exhausted.
“I’m beat. My back’s about to snap…”
Metatron raised an eyebrow and glanced at his still-firm part. “That’s all you’ve got?”
“Oh please, Your Highness the Chancellor of Heaven, we’ve gone at it how many times now? Give me a break, I’m so tired…” I waved my hand feebly, cheek buried in the pillow.
“Alright, alright. I’ll take it from here. Your riding skills are terrible.”
He flipped over and tugged at my waist, clearly about to enter me from behind. I twisted around quickly and said, “No, no! I told you what I wanted to learn tonight. If we’re going to continue, I’ll take the lead, so you lie back down.”
“Little Isar, what’s gotten into you today?”
“Lie down!”
“Tsk tsk… so domineering.” Metatron reclined again, resting his arms behind his head. “Go on then. Do your worst.”
I took a deep breath, oblivious to the faint creak of a door opening behind me. I straddled him again, kissed him, adjusted my posture—until I noticed Metatron’s eyes suddenly fly wide open.
“What, no fun anymore?” I narrowed my eyes at him.
But his gaze was fixed over my shoulder. I frowned, confused, and followed his line of sight—
And saw Lucifer standing at the door, bathed in moonlight.
He was dressed immaculately in his white military uniform, golden hair cascading over his shoulders, looking like he’d just returned from training the angelic legion. He stood frozen, stunned by what he was seeing, so shocked he seemed to forget how to react.
“You two… what is the meaning of this?”
“Lord Lucifer…” I sat upright in panic—only to realize that neither I nor Metatron had any clothes on. I scrambled to hide under the blanket. “W-why are you here?”
Lucifer stared at us unblinking, his voice eerily calm. “The ‘matter’ you had to take care of today. Was this it?”
I had meant to master the skills first and surprise him. But now, caught like this, I could only bow my head in shame. “…Yes.”
Metatron glanced at me, then at Lucifer. “…You two know each other?”
“Yes. He’s the one I wanted to learn to—”
Before I could finish, Lucifer had already strode over and yanked me from the blanket.
He was so forceful that I nearly fell to the ground. Before I could steady myself, a stinging slap landed across my face.
I clutched my burning cheek and stared at him in shock.
“You became my Favored Angel, and you still dared to sleep with another man?” His fury erupted. I had never seen him like this before. I tried to pull back, but he dragged me harshly toward him. “And last night you had the audacity to throw a tantrum, to accuse me of playing with your heart?”
Metatron looked just as lost. “Lord Lucifer, Isar is your Favored Angel?”
“Out!” Lucifer pointed to the door with a roar.
Metatron, who had lived through more Berduth than most angels alive, had probably never seen Lucifer this enraged. He hastily dressed and made for the exit—but still had the nerve to mutter at the door, “Isar only asked me how to please someone. I think he was doing it for you—”
“Get out!”
And Metatron was gone.
The moment the door slammed shut, I felt even more terrified. I quickly tried to explain: “I—I didn’t know you’d be upset. I’m sorry…”
He cut me off. “So you and him—it was all to please me?”
“Yes, yes.” I nodded repeatedly.
“Your first time was with him, wasn’t it?”
I buried my head and answered softly, “Yes.”
“Then why don’t you tell me—what exactly did you learn from him?”
I didn’t notice the increasingly low tone of his voice. Thinking he’d forgiven me, I began recounting everything I had learned from Metatron, from that first night up to now. I made sure to use the most professional, technical terms possible, trying to show my dedication as a Favored Angel. He listened in silence, completely unreadable.
“Impressive,” he said finally, smiling faintly. “In that case, may I now enjoy the fruits of your training?”
The mood was so strange… did he really intend to…? That doubt flashed across my mind, but I ultimately replied, obediently:
“Of course.”
I had originally wanted to step forward and ease the tension somehow, but all he did was issue a cold command:
“Lie down.”
I froze, then could only do as he said—curling up on the bed like a beast, face down. Then I heard the cold metallic clink of a belt buckle. A pair of gloved hands gripped my hips. And then, without warning, he drove himself in.
The size mismatch made it unbearable. I nearly cried out in pain, but somehow forced it down. Yet that endurance only lasted until he started moving.
I never knew that being intimate with someone could be so painful. Every thrust tugged violently at every nerve in my body; my very heart felt like it was being wrenched apart. He moved like a machine, mechanical and unfeeling, ramming into me with relentless force.
I could feel his fury, that much was clear. But I still couldn’t help but speak through the pain:
“Your Highness, I…” I tried to hold back another wave of agony, my voice breaking. “I can’t take it anymore. Can we stop for a bit, just let me rest a bit—”
I don’t know if I spoke too softly, but he didn’t respond and simply continued his rough assault. The physical pain alone triggered my tear ducts. I buried my face in the pillow, soaking it with silent tears.
I tried again, louder now, hoarse:
“Lord Lucifer… it really hurts. Please… just a short break?”
Still, nothing. No reply. No mercy.
Eventually, the pain dulled into numbness, perhaps from how long it dragged on. I bore the rest of it in silence.
It went on for a very long time. From start to finish, all he did was breathe heavily, tinged with anger. His hands and lips never touched any part of me, not a single caress.
When it finally ended, his clothes didn’t even have a wrinkle, his breathing hadn’t even quickened.
“Nothing special,” he said coldly, tossing me toward the head of the bed, fastened up and returned to his perfect image. As though he’d just finished a bit of academic research.
I, on the other hand, slowly curled up again, covering my bare body with the blanket, face still buried in the pillow. Strangely, I hadn’t cried during the worst of it, but now that it was over, the tears wouldn’t stop. The pillow was soaked in no time. The silence made me think he had already left. I tried to sit up, only to hear his emotionless voice again:
“I won’t return to the manor anymore. When I need it, I’ll summon you to the Hall of Splendor.”
Only then did I hear the sound of his footsteps, and the closing of the door.
Even though there was no one around, I couldn’t lift my head. I didn’t even know how to face myself in such a miserable state. I simply turned over, staring at the wall. I stayed like that for a long time, curled tightly into myself.
Eventually, my eyes and head throbbed with pain. Even the act of crying felt like razors across my eyes. My brain kept telling me to get up and clean myself, but my heart was too tired. Too broken. The burning inside me kept spilling out, completely beyond my control.
Suddenly, I remembered that night from childhood—when Raphael had held me in the snow. Back then, he too had cried as helplessly as I was now, telling me:
“Why do you have to fall in love so young, Michael? Later… it’s going to hurt so much.”
But he had looked so beautiful then. Even as he sobbed, his face remained serene.
Now, my whole face ached from holding it in, yet not a single sound escaped my throat.
Lucifer had said he would summon me. But from that night onward, he never once came to me again. It was as if our relationship as Favored Angel and master had ended without a word.
From then on, I spent every day with Caro, and truly became a Power who had frequent contact with the demons.
That was the darkest period of my life.
Ever since witnessing my parents’ deaths as a child, I had hated the demons with every fiber of my being. And yet, now I was forced to work with them, to compromise everything just to climb my way back to a higher rank.
All of it because of Lucifer.
Because back when I was with Metatron, he had once gotten so angry and that anger had planted a forbidden hope in me. So when the furious Powers stormed Sancta Faylia, I stepped forward as a traitor, and Metatron promoted me, out of protocol, to Virtue.
I still remember how Lucifer had encouraged me in front of the Sanctum. That moment had filled me with courage. Once I’d grown accustomed to my new wings, I raced to the Hall of Splendor to find him.
But his words that day only crushed me.
I had always thought I’d already given enough, so much that I didn’t know what else I could offer. Young love is like that: all giving, no thought of receiving anything return. You keep hurting yourself, hoping it’ll win someone’s heart.
But Lucifer had seen all of it before. No matter how I suffered, he remained unmoved.
So stubborn… loving someone whose heart you could never win, and still foolishly hoping to touch it.
Even if I couldn’t make him love me—at the very least, I wanted him to remember me. My name. My face. Anything. Just remembrance.
It wasn’t until thousands more Berduth had passed that I began to understand.
As children, we think that with enough effort, we can accomplish anything. So we overreach and become a burden. After every failure, we think, Maybe I just need to try harder. Maybe then he’ll love me a little. But the truth was: I’d already done too much. Far too much. As the other person, he’d long since grown tired. Bored. Fed up.
Through countless nights, I slowly came to accept the truth:
That you can love someone, but you can’t demand that they love you back—just as you can’t expect the whole world to love you.
You don’t always get out what you put in.
I had lost too much: love, self-respect, even my dignity. All I wanted was to protect myself, even though there was hardly anything left to lose. Only after being wounded beyond repair, did I begin to learn what it meant to love myself.
That’s what growing up is.
But it also comes with exhaustion.
Lucifer… I think—
We’ve gone too far to turn back.
Another typical Rhodheoga blizzard had passed. Daylight barely reached the Demon Realm before it was swallowed again by the nine Hell’s darkness. Here, light stood no chance; darkness reigned eternal. Snowflakes, as thick as goose feathers, swirled across the pitch-black sky, casting mottled shadows over the Solor River. Between the shifting spaces of black and white, the west bank of Pandemonium, encircled by its moat, was home to legions of patrolling black dragons. The ones that launched from the riverbanks shot into the sky like obsidian arrows, while those circling the palace resembled long-tailed sharks prowling around anchored ships, warding off any intruders.
Pandemonium itself resembled a slumbering dragon, its shadowy and majestic form stretched across the moat. Among all the structures within the Nine Hells, none embodied the Sovereign of Demons more than this palace.
I had taken the day off and, wrapped in a heavy coat, made my way back to the same toy store. As expected, that little Caprid girl was already waiting by the door. I took her hand, led her inside, and paid for the prince doll she had wanted. When I saw her beaming with joy, clutching the box tightly, I felt a pang of guilt—every little girl dreams of a prince, but if they ever found out what Mammon was really like, that dream would surely shatter.
I bought her a cup of beast-blood honey drink and sat beside her on a bench as she opened the box. Smiling, I said, “Prince Charmings are always gentle and kind.” That may not be the truth, but sometimes adults have to tell kind lies to children.
“Huh? Gentle?” She frowned and shook her head, clearly displeased. “I don’t think the prince is gentle at all.”
“Not gentle?” Clearly, some demon children were sharp-eyed and alarmingly perceptive.
“Gentle princes are boring!”
I had planned to sip my drink, but seeing the blood inside, I poured myself a glass of pure water instead. “Then what should a prince be like?”
The little girl propped her chin on her hand, slipping into a sweet, fanciful daydream. “He has to be wicked, willful, domineering, super strong, merciless when killing angels… oh, and really, really good in bed!”
I choked hard on my water, coughing violently as I pounded on my chest. Judging by her flushed, excited face, she wasn’t lying. Demon children really were terrifying! Not only were their tastes bizarre, they started fantasizing about adult content this early?!
But now that she said it, Mammon really did match her fantasy perfectly. No wonder he had so many admirers among demon girls.
Having gotten her toy, the girl seemed fully recharged. Her big teary eyes curved into a mischievous smirk as she glanced sideways at me. “But after hearing what mister you said, I guess gentle princes aren’t so bad either.”
“Of course. Gentleness is its own kind of charm.”
I had just lifted my cup again when I felt a kiss land hard on my cheek.
I blinked, only to realize she had just stolen a kiss from me. She shrugged, tilted her head with a cheeky grin, and said, “I really like gentle men like you, mister. Wait for me to grow up, okay?”
I could feel the cold sweat soaking my back. I leapt up from the bench and spun around to escape—only to bump into someone standing behind me.
That person caught my shoulders and steadied me before tossing out a cold remark:
“I already told you. Don’t mess with little demon girls. Are you really a demon or not? Even kids know better.”
I paused for a beat, then quickly retorted, “I was just curious what she’ll be like when she grows up.”
The little girl stood up too, eyes wide, flashing her fangs. “Ah—the Prince!”
“I hate kids. Move.”
Mammon dismissed her without the slightest courtesy, then dragged me out of the toy store. To my surprise, the little girl didn’t seem the least bit discouraged. She even shouted after us, “Just wait—I will grow up!”
I’d always known demons had twisted values, but seeing their young up close was still a cultural shock.
His hand, gripping mine, radiated heat. I remembered how Mammon’s hands had never been this warm in his youth. Now, in the dead of winter, his touch could only be described as burning. The gap between a fully matured archdevil and any other creature really did widen with age.
Even his scent—some unique musk, maybe even demon pheromones—had grown stronger. To angels, it should have been the most dangerous signal. But in this body, it had somehow become alluring. The feeling was confusing, almost contradictory.
Back on the streets of the demon capital, the howling snow and icy wind dulled some of my inner turmoil. Mammon whistled, summoning a massive black dragon from the sky, its wings blotting out the sun. Then he pulled me onto its back.
With my current flying ability, riding a dragon was no small psychological burden.
“Where are we going?” I asked cautiously.
“To pick up the paperwork for the Day of the Fall. Once that’s done, I’m free. Then we’re going out for a drink.”
Typical Mammon, making decisions unilaterally and carrying them out without asking. But I needed to stay close to him. Who knew when I’d get another chance to reach my body?
The dragon took off, gliding smoothly through the sky. The city shrank below us, including the monument in the central plaza, the statue of the Sovereign of Demons. It was made entirely of black stone, but no amount of monochrome could dull its lifelike presence. Lucifer’s slightly sunken eyes and tightly pressed lips made me recall the days when he was still the Archangel.
But I would never forget what he had said to me in the Hall of Splendor:
“Michael, do you really think you’re anything special? You’re nothing but a fragment of that senseless Creator— the most worthless piece. I don’t even care for him anymore so why would I ever fall for you?”
Anra, it turned out, was waiting at the very gates of Kade Palace, right in the heart of Pandemonium.
Before I could even process the weight of that location, Mammon was already shouting for his father. Anra flew up to the window of the upstairs study. Snow battered the velvet curtains inside. A servant opened the window, revealing a vast and lavish interior—hundreds of square meters of cold, polished stone. Even with a fireplace burning, the space felt deathly still and bone-chilling.
Square shadows from the windows fell across the floor. Dressed in black, Lucifer stood there, eyes as dark and cold as the night. The ridges of his brow cast narrow shadows across his face, as if he were standing in the dead of midnight, alone on some forsaken plain.
“Use the front door next time,” he said, glancing at his son with a scolding tone. He tossed a stack of documents toward Mammon, forgetting, perhaps, that he had once acted the same.
Then, his gaze shifted—casually, unfeelingly—toward me.
That single glance felt like it poured molten lead into my veins.
For millennia, I had watched him through the eyes of Father God. I saw him kneel day and night by my corpse. I saw the rare tears he shed for me, tears from a man who rarely showed any emotion. I saw how he was nearly killed by Raphael, because of me.
By all logic, I should miss him more than anyone. I should long more than anyone to embrace him.
But how could I possibly forget what he said to me that year?
—— You’re nothing but a fragment of that senseless Creator.
——You are the most worthless piece of him.
Perhaps the others are right. We are destined enemies. In the past, in the present, and for all the days yet to come, he would linger in my life, yet never let me stay in his.
He was a man who knew exactly how to hurt you, and had always pushed me away in precisely that way.
Author: Tav Tav
Translating
The Right Wing of God, the one seated at the right hand of the Most High.
