On the night of the Feast of Eros, the land of Rhodheoga seemed split in two—half engulfed in ice, half in flame. But the blaze that raged wasn’t from the banquet hall’s fireplaces; it was the fire of envy burning in the hearts of ladies. Their makeup and attire were impeccable, their striking figures, rarely seen even in Heaven, held taut with hostility. Yet at this moment, they no longer looked seductive. They resembled the dragons of legend, breathing fire, their red eyes fixed on the man cornered by the Sovereign of Demons himself.
He had the crimson pupils of an archdevil, a pert backside, long legs, and cool-toned skin. Firmly muscled yet lean, lacking the bulky mass of other archdevils. His hair was a pale, near-white lavender, shimmering beneath the moonlight like a siren’s song from the, enough to capture the heart of any passing traveler.
Victor Hugo once said: a single drop of red wine can turn a whole glass of water blush; the sudden arrival of a more beautiful person can poison an entire group of beauties with resentment, especially when there’s a man around. He’s not a woman, and yet he exudes aggression. Like a fallen star shining in the dark abyss of Hell, he has lit up this feast—and trampled on the dignity of every woman present.” Even Negar, long hailed the most beautiful in the Demon Realm, felt wounded tonight.
His name was Sidis, one of the Seventy-Two Pillars of Solomon. Born of Beelzebub’s mischievous sister, who seduced a Power and became pregnant by accident. His father killed himself before Sidis was born and never fell from Heaven， making Sidis a pure hybrid of angel and demon. That, perhaps, was the only thing demons could mock him for. Regrettably, most of them were already captives to his beauty long before they ever got the chance to laugh.
Yet at this very moment, it seemed he was the one being captured.
A noble by rank, Sidis had certainly met Lucifer before. But he likely never imagined that at the Feast of Eros, he would be chosen by the Sovereign. His clothes were still slightly disheveled, his cheeks flushed red. He looked like a lamb unable to resist the lure of a wolf, swaying unsteadily against a marble wall. But the pride in his bones hadn’t yet been worn away. Gazing at the Sovereign who held him tightly in one arm, Sidis was the first to grab Lucifer’s collar and sneer, “Want to go again? I’m game anytime. I just hope Your Majesty has the stamina.”
Lucifer, far taller, didn’t reply. He merely let out a low, disdainful laugh. That laugh made Sidis blink, the youthful glint in his eyes exposing his true age beneath all that seduction. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
By this point, Mammon and I had been standing at the doorway for a while, and a group of nearby demons were whispering snidely:
“Should we be happy or sad? At least His Majesty’s finally out of that weird obsession with Michael… but going for this angel’s mutt doesn’t seem like a much better choice.”
“Still hung up on Michael? At least Michael was the Archangel Commander of Heaven! When they were together, Lucifer was still an angel too, so having lingering feelings makes sense. What I don’t get is, how did he end up with this guy now? He doesn’t even have taste anymore.”
“Yeah, Michael was the Archangel Commander, and His Majesty used to hold that exact post before his fall. They were equals in a way. But who’s Sidis’s dad was a Power who got played by a demoness and killed himself. Pathetic.”
“But don’t you think Sidis’ more charming than Michael? I mean, sure, they both have pretty faces, but Michael always looks so serious—okay, maybe I’ve only seen him in books—but even in action, Michael always has that ‘I must protect Heaven’ look in his eyes. He’s like a statue. I don’t see the appeal. Sidis, on the other hand…”
At that, everyone turned to look at Sidis. And fell silent.
It was true. Sidis had an angel’s perfect features, but his aura was forged in darkness, cold and sultry, perfectly in line with demonic standards of beauty. The way he looked at Lucifer was lively and flirtatious. Even something as simple as a blink radiated vitality, so unlike the emotionless higher divines.
The demon continued, “Can’t you people open your minds a little? Just because His Majesty didn’t pick you or your friends, you get all sour? Be honest with yourselves: if you were Lucifer, wouldn’t you pick him too?”
“Fair. I have to admit, Michael is overpowered, but he’s not exactly sexy…”
The others nodded. I saw Mammon clench his fist and take a step forward. But then he stopped, glanced back at me, and shrugged. “Whatever. Michael has nothing to do with me anymore. Looks like Dad’s found himself a new fling. Let’s go have a look.”
He took my hand, trying to lead me away, but my feet felt nailed to the floor.
Mammon stopped and looked at me, puzzled. I took a few seconds before I could move again, walking alongside him. But every step was difficult. Mammon knew too many people. Every few meters, someone would greet him. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop myself from watching Lucifer and Sidis. They weren’t playing any more games, but they stood close. Lucifer leaned down to whisper something, making Sidis laugh again and again. Then Lucifer took his hand and said something that made Sidis’ entire face flush bright red. He tried to push Lucifer away with his free hand, but Lucifer leaned in even closer…
“Ah, they kissed,” Mammon exclaimed to Buson like he’d found a rare gem. “That’s Dad’s first kiss today, right? Oh, wait, maybe the first in the past few thousand years..”
Buson frowned. “His Majesty really seems to like Sidis. I don’t get it though.”
“Why?” I couldn’t help but ask.
Buson pointed at Sidis with his chin. “Don’t be fooled by the pretty face. His personality is utter trash—sensitive, bad temper, always thinks the world’s against or owes him. Last time we had dinner, I casually said ‘angels make weak demons,’ and he completely lost it. Word is he went home and cried like a little girl. Is he even a guy?”
“So you all know him well, huh?”
“We’re in the same circle. Can’t avoid him. I don’t like him. Every time we meet, it ends badly. He’s so sensitive that one wrong word and he thinks the whole world betrayed him. Can you imagine that guy commanding sixty regiments?”
“What’s that got to do with it? The more sensitive he is, the more he needs a domineering guy like my dad to whip him into shape. Trust me, he’ll behave soon.” Mammon pointed toward Lucifer and Sidis. “Come on, let’s go talk to them.”
“It might not be a good time to go over there. Let’s just forget it.”
Though I couldn’t stop glancing their way, I was genuinely afraid to approach. But Mammon had always been domineering. Ignoring my protests, he dragged me straight over.
Up close, Sidis was even prettier than from afar. His skin was so smooth it seemed to glow, highlighting the vitality of his youth. Yet he bore a calm indifference far beyond his years. When he saw us approaching, his gaze passed right over Buson and landed directly on Mammon. He smiled politely. “Prince Mammon.”
Lucifer disliked others prying into his personal affairs. Naturally, Mammon wasn’t foolish enough to challenge his father’s authority outright, so he simply smiled with ease. “You both seem relaxed tonight. What were you talking about?”
Sidis glanced at Lucifer, who gave him permission with a nod. “We were discussing plans to conquer Heaven.”
Mammon took the cocktail offered by a servant and lifted it. “Oh? That’s something I’m interested in. Tell me more.”
“The core strategy centers around Jerusalem. Once Jerusalem falls, the legions of the Demon Realm can pour out in full force. To breach the first two Heavens, we’ll have to use a flanking maneuver with concentrated forces, striking the edges—”
Before Sidis could finish, Lucifer interrupted, “Once we’ve taken Jerusalem, I plan to put Sidis in charge of holding the city.”
It wasn’t just Sidis—Mammon and I were both stunned.
After a moment of silence, Mammon spoke first. “Dad, isn’t that decision a little rushed?”
“Since it hasn’t been formally announced, it isn’t final. But so far, I haven’t changed my mind. Sidis’s legion may be weak offensively, but their defense is solid.” Then Lucifer gave a slight smirk and wrapped an arm around Sidis’s waist. His voice turned gentle, almost suggestive. “Right, Sidis?”
Mammon and I stood awkwardly in the shadow of their intimacy. Mammon cleared his throat and set down his glass, sounding unusually serious. “This wine’s pretty weak. Miller, let’s go get something stronger.”
“I should probably be leaving too,” said Lucifer, placing down his glass. After taking a few steps, he turned to Sidis. “I’m heading back to Kade Palace. Are you staying here?”
A flicker of surprise crossed Sidis’s face, but he quickly followed after Lucifer, his expression melting into near-tears of gratitude.
Once they’d gone, Mammon let out an exaggerated sigh. “I can’t stand my dad sometimes. Sidis is so young. If he messes around like this, the kid might end up offing himself… Anyway, what do you want to drink?”
“Drink? Anything’s fine,” I answered too quickly.
“Red wine, cocktails, or champagne?”
“Red wine, cocktails, or champagne…” I echoed him like a machine, then said at random, “Whatever. You decide.”
“Red wine?”
“Mmm. Red wine…” I forced myself to think, my brain sluggish as if rusted over. “Yeah. Red wine’s fine.”
From that point on, I continued talking with Mammon, but none of it registered. I didn’t know why my thoughts had slowed into blunt steel, only that each forced response was a cover, my instinct guiding me through a hollow conversation.
Only two things burned in my awareness:
Lucifer wanted his new lover to conquer my homeland.
And that new lover was going to his bedchamber tonight.
The wind that night was fierce, but I refused Mammon’s offer to accompany me. I wanted to walk, needed to feel awake again. But the more the cold wind howled, the clearer the truth became, and the deeper my heart sank. Again and again, I asked myself in disbelief:
This isn’t real, right? He hasn’t fallen for someone else, right?
Even if he treated me as Father God, I still carried remnants of divinity. But what about Sidis?
Lucifer couldn’t possibly have changed.
I was convinced that he loved only God.
Because God was our last bond left.
Back when I was still Lucifer’s Favored Angel in Heaven, after he caught me and Metatron in that compromising moment in Shima, he really never came to see me again.
At first, it was just anxiety. I waited, restless, every day unable to focus on anything. But as time dragged on, that anxiety gradually turned into despair. Lucifer’s coldness, so thorough, inside and out, stood in sharp contrast to Metatron’s careless gentleness. Ironically, that final rupture drew me and Metatron closer. I still couldn’t bring myself to love him, but I slowly learned how to coexist with him as if we were lovers. Eventually, even in Saint Faylia, rumors began to spread that Metatron might finally be taking a relationship seriously.
In the winter of year 6884, a blizzard blanketed Jerusalem. Every church, shop, street, river, unicorn stable, and courtyard was buried under heavy snow. The temperature dropped so low even angels couldn’t fly. School was canceled for over a week.
I spent those days at Metatron’s home, playing Celestial Chess, roasting fish in the fireplace, cooking meals together… and tumbling into bed when we were too tired to stand. On the eighth day, just past noon, we were both in the kitchen, aprons on, making lunch—when the doorbell rang. After hearing the name the servant reported, I quickly tore off my apron and fled into the storage room on the first floor.
Not long after, Lucifer entered. Metatron had refreshments brought out and gestured casually toward the sofa. “Weren’t you supposed to be in the Demon Realm for twenty days, Your Highness? You’re back rather early. Please, have a seat.”
Lucifer wore a golden cloak of pegasus fur, hood still up. “Are you home alone?” he asked, not even bothering to remove it.
“Of course not.” Metatron pointed at the nearby servants. “Surely Your Highness isn’t blind to all these people around me, aha.”
Lucifer looked around the room, his gaze pausing on an apron left on the sofa. He said flatly, “I have an urgent task from the Father to relay. If there’s anyone else here, ask him to leave.”
“Oh, that’s my little lover’s. He’s out getting groceries. Whatever you need, feel free to speak.”
They talked for about twenty minutes, mostly about sending angels to garrison the border. When Lucifer finished, he didn’t leave. He just stood there in silence. From the storage room, I could only see his reflection in the window, not his expression. But I could hear Metatron’s cheerful tone.
“My little lover should be back any minute. Is there anything else, Your Highness?”
After waiting a long time and still receiving no response, Metatron added, “Actually, I noticed something since earlier. Your Highness have been staring at that apron. Curious who it belongs to, right? No harm in saying it out loud, really. It’s Isar’s.”
“I’m not curious,” Lucifer said, then paused. “I already knew it was his.”
Silence fell. Then Metatron dismissed the servants, leaving only the two of them in the room. His tone shifted. “We’ve been friends for how many years now, so I know you, at least a little. I don’t know why you won’t face him, but from the moment you caught the two of us together, I could already tell—you like him.”
“How?”
“The seven-petaled snowflake.” Metatron brushed a flake from Lucifer’s shoulder. “You went to Snowmoon Forest and realized your feelings for God had faded. So you came here—because you wanted to see Isar.”
“You’re overthinking it,” Lucifer refuted at once.
Medanzo blinked, then laughed brightly. “All right. If I am, then please, Your Highness Lucifer, do me a favor and stop interfering with us. Isar and I are very happy right now. I don’t want anything disrupting that.”
“That’s your business. It has nothing to do with me.”
“So, you might still try to sabotage us then?”
“I have no interest in him. If he weren’t always clinging to me, I wouldn’t spare him a glance.”
Hearing this, my heart, which had long since died, seemed to sink even deeper. But I wasn’t surprised. Then Lucifer sneered, cold and sharp. “For me to like him, that would only happen if he managed to defeat me one day.”
“Now that’s venom,” Metatron chuckled. “Slicker than a serpent’s spit. Let’s be honest, besides Father God, who could ever best you in all three realms? If that’s your condition, then I can rest easy.”
Even though I knew Metatron was just stating the obvious, that already hopeless heart of mine was reignited by Lucifer’s single remark.
I didn’t even care whether he was mocking me. I had found a new goal: to surpass him.
As long as I could surpass him, he would fall for me.
That one sentence drove me to desperation. Ten years later, I did something bold: I entered the Dominion Trial.
The Dominion Trial is brutal. Participating not only requires a massive sum of coins, but failure means you’re barred from trying again for a set time. The higher the rank, the longer the wait. The interval between Dominion exams is two Berduth. For older angels, it’s not uncommon to die before their second chance comes around. Every promotion was treated with the seriousness of life itself.
A miracle happened—I passed.
But then, something also unbelievable: my certificate went missing.
Later, I would learn it was Caro’s doing. At the time, I was frantic. I contacted the Academy and the examiners over and over, but the answer remained the same: “Losing your certificate doesn’t count as failure. You may take the test again next year. But without a certificate, you cannot participate in the ascension ceremony.”
Yes, the exam could be retaken. But I’d spent every last coin, maxed out my student loans. Desperate, I turned to Metatron for help. He looked at me for a long time with unreadable eyes and gently asked:
“Are you upset because you couldn’t gain your wings, or because you couldn’t get closer to Lucifer?”
I wasn’t good at lying. So I stayed silent.
After that, he never answered my plea for help again.
From that point on, our relationship unraveled. Even when I later became a Virtue with his assistance, Metatron remained distant. Apart from physical intimacy, he no longer offered any emotional closeness.
But I didn’t care anymore. My heart was focused fully on Lucifer.
His words of encouragement in front of the Sanctum made me giddy. Once I earned the right to enter the Seventh Heaven, I went straight to the Hall of Splendor to see him.
He was always busy, never had time for me. But I persisted.
Until one day, when the Hall of Splendor happened to be empty, he finally said something to me:
“Isar, perhaps I’ve given you the wrong impression, so let me make this clear—I don’t like you. I’ve never liked you. I never will. No matter what you become, I have no interest in you. In fact, I don’t even want to see you again. Please, get out of my sight.”
Those words struck me so hard I could barely breathe. I left the Hall of Splendor, teeth clenched, wiping away my tears as I walked down the steps, one slow step after another. And just then, I ran into Metatron coming up.
Shrewd as the Chancellor of Heaven always was, he immediately understood what had happened. From that day on, he never reached out to me again.
Good news never leaves the gates, but bad news travels fast. It didn’t take long before the entire Heaven knew. After that, those enraged Powers began using me as their scapegoat. Whenever they found me alone, they would drag me into secluded corners to beat me, hacking off my wings.
But I didn’t care anymore. Every ounce of effort I’d made was only ever to earn a fleeting moment of affection from Lucifer. And once I understood that even that was no longer possible, nothing else seemed to matter.
I just hadn’t expected that in a story already steeped in despair, he would still insist on delivering the final blow.
On the night of January 1st, Year 6898, the Day of Creation seemed to gather all of Heaven’s brilliance into Saint Faylia. Down below, dark clouds swelled in reply, as if a great storm were on the verge of breaking. I hadn’t tried to obtain an invitation to the Sanctum. I was simply on patrol in the Demon Realm, keeping watch against opportunistic invasions.
But as I wandered, I somehow found myself in a forest where snow was falling silently.
Here, moonlight combed the long hair of darkness, and nature itself became a grand cathedral. Seven-petaled snowflakes drifted down like birds with broken wings, cloaking ink-black trees in sacred white. The snow-laden branches interlinked like the webs of some ancient spider, weaving an old mother’s veil over this sorrowful city of trees.
Deep within that forest, two figures stood in the snow. One of them had no wings, but his silver hair shone with a radiant light, as if a bottle of moonlight had been shattered and spilled over his head. His voice was familiar and solemn, yet devoid of emotion:
“Lucifer, I know the way you treat him now… it’s because you want Father to suffer.”
“Of course,” came Lucifer’s voice still as water.
“You think if you hurt Isar, Father will feel it too?”
I was completely stunned.
Because the one speaking… was Father God Himself.
And yet Lucifer reacted with anger:
“Don’t speak that name again. That’s God’s name, not Michael’s.”
What was going on? I’m Isar. How could it also be the name of God?
“But you know very well that Father now possesses only power and no feeling. If I hadn’t taken on this form, the two of you wouldn’t even be able to speak like this. All His emotions became Michael. The way Michael loves you now, it’s the same depth of feeling He once had for you.”
“Enough,” Lucifer snapped. “I’m only here to take my legions and leave Heaven. As for God—who He is, what He thinks—I no longer care. And Michael, he’s just one fragment of that foolish Creator. The most worthless one, at that. I couldn’t be less interested.”
——Michael, one fragment of that foolish Creator. The most worthless one.
That line repeated itself in my mind like an echo carved in stone as I made my way back to Heaven.
By then, the clouds could no longer bear their burden and began to weep, drenching the world in icy rain. The storm was merciless, like razor-thin wires pulling at the bones of the wind, drawing anguished cries from the snowy birds. And yet it was beautiful, pooling into lakes, feeding the trees it surrounded, transforming the landscape into a dreamscape built from light and mist. Winged silhouettes flickered in and out of view.
I stood beneath the archway of Heaven’s Gate, arms wrapped tightly around myself, waiting for the rain to lighten before returning. It wasn’t that I couldn’t use magic to shield myself; I just wanted an excuse to linger. To give this aimless soul a reason to stay just a little longer.
Most of the angels had gone to Saint Faylia. Heaven’s Gate was deserted. Through the veils of rain, I saw the figure I had loved since childhood. I wasn’t surprised. He must have finished arguing with the Lord by now and was on his way back.
He should have flown straight over the gate and into the sky. But halfway there, he turned around, flew back and stopped before me.
The wind slashed through the rain, and even the eaves could not shelter me from its tears. They soaked my face and hair. I looked up and smiled at him faintly.
“Lord Lucifer.”
His hair was wet, too. His eyes, always so deep, now shimmered with the clear blue of the sky. Raindrops fell at my feet, barely learning to weep, and already shattering in a burst of light. The stormlight lit his gaze, and in it I saw my reflection, as calm as a still pond.
“It’s Creation Day. Why are you here alone?” His tone hadn’t changed from before.
“Because I missed you, Your Highness. That’s why I stayed here.”
He looked faintly puzzled, an expression he seldom wore.
I laughed and waved my hand. “I’m only joking. I just finished my shift and got caught in the storm. I’ll head back once the rain lets up.”
Loving this man had already lasted longer than many lifetimes in the divine realm. But in this very instant, I finally understood: I would never have him, but for me to not long for him, that was impossible, too.
So—I decided to forget him. With outside help, if necessary.
Memory is a heavy burden. But without it, everything becomes light.
In that moment, I felt light.
Rejection, coldness, I could bear them all. Because after tonight, both the long pain and the fleeting joy would no longer belong to me.
“Your Highness, maybe this will be the last time I say this…”
I gently brushed the damp hair from his forehead, looked up at him, and said softly:
“I like you.”
As if a sudden crack had split a slab of dark gray marble, red and violet lightning tore across the heavens. The forests of Eden opened a thousand palms to receive the torrent, letting the downpour wash their faces clean. Lucifer brought me back to his villa in Jerusalem, but didn’t lead me to the bedroom. There wasn’t even time to light a lamp. He had already pressed me onto the sofa, enclosing me within the cage of his arms. It felt as though thorns had sprung up around me, I dared not move. In the dark, I could only make out the faint outline of his face: the sculpted arc of his nose, the elegant curve of his jaw. His breath was soft, but the space around us was tight, so tight it felt like the entire world had collapsed into the sound of him breathing.
He undressed me, layer by layer, with a cruelty and excitement akin to devouring. My heartbeat thundered against my ribs; my limbs trembled, helpless beneath the weight of tension.
Then I heard him speak, voice low and almost hoarse: “Promise me you won’t do this with anyone else anymore.”
Lucifer, look at yourself. How selfish you are.
And yet, no matter what you are, you will always be my most unforgettable Lord Lucifer.
“As long as I still remember you,” I whispered, tracing a cross over my chest, “I will not break this promise. I swear in the name of God.”
He cradled the back of my head and kissed me deep. Then, grasping his own desire, he rubbed against me briefly before pressing in, slowly, deeply, insistently. I received him, taking him in. He didn’t move at first. He simply entered me, filling me completely, and remained still.
Only then did I learn that desire could resemble longing, gathering little by little, until it spilled into every corner of the body.
But the trembling breaths wouldn’t stop. Then came the passionate kisses, the sudden, surging rhythm. Pain lit my nerves with shocking clarity. So did ecstasy. Each thrust stole away my self-control. I wanted to cry out, but his lips smothered my voice. Every moan dissolved into the heat of his mouth.
In the moonlight, I saw his eyes and feared that one more second of looking would betray the sorrow in mine. I quickly raised my hand to cover them. His lashes brushed my palm with each motion. Within me, fire bloomed. The thrusts were deep, relentless. I couldn’t think. Even mouthfuls of air felt like drowning. Amid my intermittent moans, I heard Lucifer groan softly.
So even he had moments like this. Even he could lose himself.
And yet, the more joy I felt, the more afraid I became.
Afraid that before I’d even learned how to let go, I had already fallen too far.
The lovemaking was so intense, even language lost its function. We held each other, drenched in sweat, sharing each other’s breath.
Lucifer, so that’s how it is.
My life is a prison guarded by your breath.
Your breath sustains me while also devouring me.
No one survives without breath.
To let go of something so vital would be death itself.
So before the moment of suffocation comes, I could only choose to forget the feeling of breathing.
After the Feast of Eros, I suffered from severe insomnia from recalling the past and didn’t manage to fall asleep until around nine in the morning. At that hour, the skies above the Demon Realm were just beginning to lighten. The knight patrol units on the streets were rotating shifts, and the ghostly blue wheat fields outside the city swayed beneath the curtain of dawn. The midwinter air was icy, like a hand reaching out to unfasten the black rose collar of Pandemonium.
In the great bed of Kade Palace, Sidis also quietly woke in the Sovereign’s embrace. The night before, he had drunk quite a bit, and in his drunkenness had done many wild things with Lucifer—memories of which still made his heart pound and his cheeks flush. Once sober, he understood perfectly well that Lucifer had acted that way because alcohol had stirred his interest.
Lucifer’s embrace was warm, and when Sidis carefully slipped out from it, he shivered from the cold. At that moment, his skin was so sensitive that every place which had been kissed and touched seemed to bloom again like black roses. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he buried his head in his arms in despair, let out a long sigh, and got up to dress, preparing to leave the sleeping chamber.
But as he glanced back once more at Lucifer, he was surprised to notice that not only did this man have an incredible physique, but his eyelashes were also so long, completely unfitting his status as the Sovereign of Demons. He bit his lip and decided to climb back into bed, just to steal one last kiss.
Gently pressing down his own strands of pale violet hair, he leaned in to kiss him. For reasons he couldn’t explain, tears welled up and moistened his eyes. But just then, someone caught his hand and pulled him back onto the bed.
“Ah…” Sidis let out a soft gasp.
The Sovereign pinned him down, flashing a lazy smile. “Were you trying to ambush me?”
All the wildness and boldness from the night before had completely vanished. Sidis’s body instinctively curled up. Now that the man was awake and staring straight at him, Sidis realized this was no longer the handsome stranger from the Feast of Eros, but the very same Lucifer spoken of in legends, news, and sacred texts. It was like meeting an idol you’ve worshipped since childhood, equal parts excitement and paralyzing nervousness.
“Why so quiet?” Lucifer smiled with elegant politeness, though brimming with confidence.
“I… I don’t know what to say…” Sidis turned his head away, avoiding his gaze. “Your Majesty, please let me go. I don’t want to be toyed with.”
“Insecure children are hard to like.”
“It’s not that I want to be this way. But there are many things… it’s not like just saying I’m not insecure will make others accept me.”
“Tell me,” Lucifer sat up.
Sidis slowly sat up as well, lowering his head. “It’s about my parents. Before I came of age, my mother did financially support and raise me. But it turns out, the one she truly loved was her current husband and their child. My father—he was just someone she played with and threw away. A child born between unloving parents… others always…anyway, I’ve never liked talking about my family. No matter how hard I tried to be likable, once people discovered my angelic blood and that my current father wasn’t biological, their eyes always changed.” He didn’t say more, just kept his head down.
“So, you think I’m just toying with you?”
“No, no—I wouldn’t dare blame Your Majesty. Someone like you has seen everything; you know exactly what kind of person you’re touching, and of course, you’d be disappointed. So I thought I should say it myself…” His pale violet hair fell over his eyes. “I probably shouldn’t have approached Your Majesty to begin with. I’m sorry…”
But before the words had even finished, he was pulled into a warm embrace. Lucifer’s voice came from above his head: “Who would’ve thought you were so sensitive. People who are truly satisfied with themselves rarely bother criticizing others. Those who slander you have wounds of their own, you just don’t know it.”
Sidis nodded, lips tightly pressed together. Then he heard Lucifer softly say, “As for your parents, I’m sure that left a scar in your heart. Sadly, your childhood is already over—I can’t change the past. But starting now, I can try to care for you and give you warmth.”
Lucifer’s chest gradually became soaked with hot tears. Sidis wept in silence, not daring to make a sound before. So it turned out—His Majesty was such a gentle person. Maybe deep down, he didn’t truly care about him, but on the surface, he made Sidis feel genuinely cherished. After this day, he knew he would admire this great monarch even more.
On the third day after returning to his single apartment, Sidis tried to adjust his mood, hoping to face life anew. He invited three friends over. Once two had arrived, he began cooking. But just as he tied on his apron, he heard a knock on the door. Thinking it was the third friend, he clanged his spatula and opened the door, mock-annoyed: “You’re late—three bowls of soup as punishment!”
The man at the door smiled gently. “If it’s something you made, I’d drink the whole pot.”
The two friends in the living room were so startled they spilled their tea. Sidis nearly fell to his knees. “L-Lord Lucifer!”
“Seems I came at a bad time.”
“No no no no! Please come in, Your Majesty!” Sidis quickly opened the door, fetched slippers—then immediately caught the smell of burning. He dashed back to the kitchen. “Crap, the lamb is burnt! Your Majesty, wait just a second—I’ll be right back…”
Sidis was sweating as he battled the charred lamb, but he heard steady footsteps approaching. Turning around and seeing Lucifer entering, he flushed and yanked off his apron, tossing it aside. “Ahem, you’d better wait outside—it’s full of smoke here…”
Lucifer looked at the apron for a moment, then picked it up and tied it back on Sidis. “You look good in this.”
Sidis opened his mouth, revealing sharp little fangs, then turned his head and muttered angrily—something about the lamb refusing to behave. But his cheeks were redder than ever.
Very soon, rumors of Lucifer and Sidis’s romance spread throughout the Demon Realm. Since I had no chance to get close to Lucifer, all I could do was overhear countless little stories of how he doted on Sidis. The most widely told was about the dragon wrist bones: a dragon only has two front wrist bones, and only those from adult dragons are used in cuisine. This dish was a rare delicacy in the Demon Realm, never sold on the market due to its value. Yet Lucifer would give both pieces to Sidis during meals, simply watching him eat with indulgent affection.
They all said Lucifer had finally found true love.
From then on, Sidis made more friends. No one dared mock him anymore. On the contrary, people began imitating him. Hair salons often ran out of pale violet dye. Clothes Sidis wore became fashion standards across the Demon Realm. Even the realm’s prior admiration for muscular beauty was overturned—men and women alike began aspiring to slimmer builds.
None of this was anything I had anticipated. Mammon and I both thought Lucifer had only gone to the Feast of Eros to let off steam. But what truly shocked me came not long after.
As the sixty-day deadline given by God neared its end and I was growing desperate over being unable to approach my own body, Lucifer gave an order: to cut over a thousand trees in Snowmoon Forest, leaving the land barren. Then, with a large number of demon troops, he built a wooden pyre altar in the First Hell—preparing to burn the corpse of Archangel Michael.
When I heard the news, I was hunting in the countryside with Mammon, Buson, and a group of his friends. Mammon yanked me onto Anra’s back and, without another word, flew the dragon straight toward the First Hell. Along the way, he said at least five times, “What the hell is Dad thinking? How could he do this to Michael?” But I said nothing.
When he said he would have Sidis guard Jerusalem, deep inside I still felt a bitter anger—an unwilling jealousy I couldn’t admit. Looking back alone afterward, there was more than just fury; there was pain. But now, I couldn’t even summon anger, that most basic of emotions. All I felt was the pain. Lucifer had always been this way—hadn’t I known? He always pushed me to the limit, always made me believe “this time is the worst, just endure it,” only for the next time to be more unimaginable still. He was never that cold-on-the-outside, warm-on-the-inside man I had fantasized about. That was all my delusion. With someone so selfish, what expectations did I still foolishly cling to?
In the desolate expanse of the First Hell, waves of soldiers on horseback patrolled around the towering pyre like arrows drawn in a bow. Wind and sand ruffled the warhorses’ manes, their neighs and hooves echoing in a sharp, urgent symphony. Mammon circled above on Anra, finally spotting the crystal coffin surrounded by a dark army—the body of the seraph, his hair blooming like red roses in the night, flaring as if with heat within the crystal case. Then Mammon dove toward the front of the pyre, toward Lucifer.
“Dad, are you seriously going to burn Michael’s body?” Mammon glanced frantically toward the coffin.
Lucifer answered with detachment: “Michael was a leader of the divine race. I cannot bury him here in Hell.”
“Then don’t bury him at all! Keeping him in Pandemonium is not a problem!”
“Why shouldn’t I bury him?”
That question stumped Mammon. He glanced uncertainly at Sidis and said under his breath, “Y-you wouldn’t bear to part with him, right? Even if you’re with someone new now, Michael is still the one you love the most, isn’t he?”
The wind stirred the firewood and the tassels on the soldiers’ helmets. It carried away the scent of grass and filled the air with dust, blurring my vision. Lucifer didn’t wait long before answering, but it felt like a century:
“No.”
He raised his gloved hand and signaled for the ignition. Within two minutes, blazing fire lit up half the desert sky. Soldiers lifted the body from the crystal coffin and placed it before Lucifer. Lucifer looked down upon it, poured himself a cup of wine, and raised it in a solemn toast.
“To my most respected former enemy, my most formidable opponent. Prince of God, Lord of Light—His Highness Michael. May your soul rest in peace.”
With that, he poured the wine onto the ground and gestured to toss the body.
The soldiers began to march, lifting the body, ready to throw it into the fiery inferno.
At that moment, Mammon leapt down from Anra and caught the body midair.
The ten or so soldiers were all archdevils, monstrously strong, and Mammon overexerted himself catching the corpse, rolling with it several meters from the flames. His face was flushed fully red from the heat, drenched in sweat, arms wrapped tightly around the body, shielding it with everything he had.
“You can’t do this to him. You can’t just treat him like this because you stopped loving him!”
Lucifer narrowed his eyes, silent.
Mammon lifted the corpse, resting the red-haired head against his shoulder. He checked Michael’s arm and saw scratches.
“Withdraw the troops. If this continues, he’ll suffer more harm. He’s already dead so no wound can heal anymore. Dad, don’t be rash. Think about how he treated you before. He was the one who loved you most in this world…”
Lucifer froze for a moment. Suddenly, his rims turned completely red—and he flew into a rage.
“Throw him in NOW!”
“NO!” Mammon roared through clenched teeth. “I absolutely won’t allow it! If you want to destroy his body, then step over mine first!”
“Mammon, am I your father or are you mine? Am I the Sovereign or you?! I order you right now, throw him into the fire!”
Mammon showed no sign of retreat. On the contrary, he exploded in fury: “If you really burn him—then I have no father! LORD LUCIFER!” When he shouted “Lord Lucifer,” his eyes had already turned blood-red.
Lucifer flinched—he hadn’t expected that answer. No one could predict the terrifying power of Mammon once he transformed. And Lucifer wouldn’t send his own men to die for nothing. He lifted a finger and pointed at Mammon’s arm, the one cradling the corpse.
A bolt of lightning shot out, exploding in a burst of deep violet flame. Mammon grunted, and Michael’s body fell from his arms. As Mammon was momentarily paralyzed, Lucifer pointed again—this time at the body.
The corpse rose into the air, then was hurled into the fire by a surge of black magic.
Mammon lunged, but Lucifer’s magic was too fast. It was too late.
He could only stare silently at the flames, their light reflected in his eyes.
“AAAHHHHHHHHHHH——!”
Like a lion with its limbs torn off, Mammon howled in agony. His pupils vanished into a haze of blood-red, his throat issuing a beast’s ragged breaths. Hunched over, he charged at Lucifer.
The loyal soldiers rushed to shield their Sovereign, only to be torn apart by Mammon’s bare hands. Blood splattered across his face. He grabbed a scythe from one of the fallen, raised it high, and slammed it down at Lucifer.
In that instant, as all chaos descended and everyone scrambled to protect the Sovereign of Demons, no one noticed that I had already flown over the fire atop Anra—leaping down toward Michael’s body.
If it had been before, I would have rushed to protect Lucifer, heedless of my own safety. But at that moment, his life or death no longer concerned me. Seeing Mammon’s face drenched in blood, I remembered that night on the Day of Creation years ago: my own face, too, had been covered in blood.
After that night of entanglement with Lucifer, I stood at the window of his Jerusalem villa and drew my longsword. The light of the blade, of the rain, of the lightning, all flashed between Heaven and Earth. I raised the sword high and brought it down upon the wings he had once again granted me. Warm, wet blood burst from my veins and splashed into my eyes. My wings fell to the ground with a heavy thud. The pain was suffocating. The pounding of my arteries nearly shattered my skull.
That night, the agony was unbearable. I drifted in and out of consciousness. Then, I heard the voice of Father God beside my ear:
“Child, I have heard your prayer. After tonight, I shall seal all your memories in a crystal sphere. You will return to First Heaven and begin your life anew.”
“Y—yes…” I was so drained I could hardly speak. My voice no longer felt like my own.
He said he would never love me.
Not in the past, not now, and not ever.
Because I was nothing but something discarded. A pathetic piece, desperately trying to feel seen.
I wasn’t meant to feel pain.
And yet, I awoke to a sense of self.
Whenever Lucifer looked at me with those deep, tender eyes, was he searching for someone else? Had his gaze long since passed through me, flying toward the edges of the cosmos—toward the Creator he never could possess?
God is loneliness.
Lucifer is longing.
Perhaps, in truth, he suffers more than I do.
Now, he has finally broken free from the chains of the past.
He has let go of grief and entanglement, and begun a new life.
And so, he made his final decision.
He chose to say goodbye to me.
Wind and sand swept across the barren land, withered grass rising like dust into the air. I could hear the crackle of firewood and Mammon’s heart-wrenching sobs.
At last, I walked out of the flames and gently unfurled my six wings.
Lucifer stood there, his shoulder bloodied from a heavy wound, his face pale, his eyes indifferent. Sidis held him with concern, anxiously calling others to tend to His Majesty. Mammon, meanwhile, clutched his bloodied hands to his eyes and wept in anguish.
Then someone noticed me.
“Mi–Michael is alive!”
“Help! He’s alive again!”
“Quick—protect His Majesty!!”
Mammon removed his hands and slowly turned to look at me, eyes giant from straining it too wide.
“Kill him!” A demon charged toward me, weapon raised, attempting to strike first.
I looked toward Lucifer, then calmly caught the demon’s wrist, seized his blade, and struck him down with a single blow. Blood sprayed out—I tilted my head slightly to avoid it, though a few drops still clung to my lips.
Lucifer looked at me in silence, as if none of this surprised him.
Finally, the demon army stirred like a sleeping giant awakened. Their battle cries shook the earth as they raised their weapons and surged toward me. I spread my wings and rose into the air. Below, they collided into one another, wounding their own.
I glanced down one last time at the Sovereign of Demons. At some point, an unreadable, cold smile had formed at the corner of his lips.
I narrowed my eyes and looked up toward the radiant, infinite sky. Then I spread my massive six wings, scattering golden feathers afloat in the light. With all my strength, I flew toward that direction.
At last, the day had come.
Heaven.
Divine race.
I am back.
Author: Tav Tav
Translating
The Right Wing of God, the one seated at the right hand of the Most High.
