Azazel turned his head as if sensing something, and when he saw me, his expression instantly darkened. “What the hell did you drug His Highness with?”
Bee-sized Lucifer looked up at me, his little face dripping with sweat. I avoided his eyes.
Azazel snapped angrily, “God has sealed his powers. The moment he leaves the Palaces, he turns into this! And he still insists on coming here! Michael, can’t you just move to the Hall of Splendor instead?”
Lucifer pressed his lips together and slowly flapped his wings, flying toward me.
I hurriedly said, “Don’t come any closer.”
He paused mid-air, wings slowing further. “…You have to come back with me.”
I hung my head and said nothing.
Holding his stomach, Lucifer’s lips had gone pale. “I have your—”
What he was about to say was cut off as Metatron approached. “Little Michael, what are you doing back here?”
Flustered, I backed toward him.
Metatron: “Lord Lucifer?”
“Yes,” Lucifer glanced at me, his voice barely above a whisper. “You two…”
I took a deep breath. “We’re together now.”
Lucifer clenched the hem of his tiny robe. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re still mad at me.”
“We already broke up.”
Lucifer didn’t respond. He flew past me.
I grabbed his hand, gritting my teeth. “Lucifer, we broke up.” I even stressed the word “broke up” like it was some grand declaration.
He frowned, yanked his hand free, and flew off in a blur.
I stood there, stunned.
Azazel marched over and slapped me hard across the face. The blow knocked me back into Metatron.
He said coldly, “I used to argue with people who called you trash. Now I see I was wrong. You’re not just trash—you’re absolute garbage.”
Metatron looked like he was about to hit him back, but I stepped in the way.
Azazel left without another word. Metatron didn’t press for answers, just gently patted my head and sighed.
I ran inside and collapsed on the sofa. My mind couldn’t hold anything else.
The way Lucifer looked at me before he left… I wanted to die.
The next day, I went to class at the Academy of the Seventh like usual, but it was as if I’d become invisible. Just like in Divine Law. Whenever someone passed by me, another would tug their sleeve and point me out, and they’d dodge like I was a cockroach.
As I neared the main building, the place was swarming. Four Virtues were holding up a massive white banner covered in colorful patterns. Angels were lining up to sign it with their quills.
Curious, I walked over for a look.
An angel was managing the crowd nearby, keeping things in order. The top of the banner read:
All-student petition to expel Michael from the Academy.
Seeing everyone queue so orderly, my ears started ringing. My heartbeat roared like boiling water. If I stepped forward now, I’d only be asking for death.
I was just about to sneak away when someone suddenly shouted, “Michael!”
And just like that, every eye turned to me.
No one said a word. They just stared, faces blank. The banner flapped in the wind. The four Virtues exchanged glances and whispered to each other.
I stood there frozen, unable to advance or retreat.
Then one of the Thrones at the front flew over and stopped in front of me. “Michael, we’d like you to withdraw from the Academy.”
The demand was so blunt, it didn’t even give me time to feel awkward.
“Please give me a reason.”
“The Academy of the Seventh demands every angel to be skillful, and you’ve proven yourself there. But our standards of virtue are just as exacting as Divine Law’s standards for magic.”
So breaking up with Lucifer means I have no virtue? I laughed bitterly to myself.
In that moment, I truly wanted to turn away with dignity, give up everything and just walk off. But instead, I kept my cool and said, “I hope you’ll handle this matter fairly. Whatever happened between me and Lucifer is a private matter. Please don’t drag it into the Academy.”
He paused, then replied, “Michael, you know there’s no such thing as fairness in Heaven. Actually, there’s no fairness anywhere. In Divine Law, lineage and connections rule everything. Here at the Seventh, it’s strength and moral character. So… whether you’re in Divine Law or the Seventh, the outcome would be the same.”
“So what you’re saying is, if I don’t stay with Lucifer, I have to drop out?”
“No. His Highness Lucifer will no longer take you back. Regardless, we would prefer you leave.”
I laughed dryly. As expected of Lucifer’s protégés—so polite, so refined. They could curse you with a smile, insult you so thoroughly you’d feel lower than dirt, and still seem perfectly courteous.
I shrugged. “Fine. I’ll go wait for your decision.”
The moment I turned around, a deafening cheer erupted behind me.
As I walked through the roar of jubilant voices, it felt as if the air had thinned and the ground stretched endlessly beneath my feet.
I had thought, at worst, I’d find a job if I lost my studies. But as it turns out, when your luck runs dry, even drinking water will make you choke. I scoured every corner of Shima and couldn’t land a single job.
Day after day, I did nothing, just waiting for something, anything, to change. But the idleness only made the dread worse.
Seeing milk in a shop would remind me that Lucifer liked to drink milk. Passing by any school would bring back the memory of his tiny form walking beside me to class, getting me into trouble, then getting scolded. I’d run through every corner of Shima before, because back when he’d gone missing and I had blistered my feet searching for him, not knowing he’d been in Sancta Faylia all along. The marketplace reminded me of him fluttering about with a grocery basket, his little hands getting all scratched up from the weight.
The more I tried to run from it, the deeper I sank. The more I avoided memories, the more they filled me up.
I sat beneath my building, staring at the distant golden-lit stairways, remembering what he once told me.
He had said, no matter what happens in the future, no matter if we’re torn apart—even if I one day wanted to kill him—he still wouldn’t let go.
I didn’t understand why…why I had to be the one to hurt him.
It wasn’t until long after our breakup that the tears finally came, a flood breaking through a dam. I don’t even remember how hard I cried. My ears rang, and my cheeks burned the whole time.
Young love is always intense. Even the tiniest joy or sorrow can send you laughing or weeping.
As time passed, I only missed Lucifer more. But I rarely cried like that again.
That depth of despair was only the start.
…………
Afternoon, Day of Creation.
I was changing in my room while eyeing the stack of eleven Creation Day invitations sitting on my desk, marveling at how inefficient Heaven could be when it came to formalities. Every department had sent their own uniquely colored invitation, signed by a different official. If I, a mere Dominion, got this many, I could only imagine how many it would take to reach someone like Metatron. A whole carriage-load?
This Creation Day was special so just about every angel was invited. Everything inside the Sanctum was free, and since this was a rare chance to access both the Sixth and Seventh Heavens, low-ranking angels had been scrimping and saving for years just to enjoy a night like this.
I, on the other hand, was flat broke. No chance of affording the luxurious goods only “named angels” could buy. So I dressed quickly, grabbed my costume and the mountain of invitations, and got ready to leave.
That’s when the window burst open with a loud clang, and a long leg slid down from behind the curtain. Annoyed, I hurled a shoe at it. “Next time, use the front door!”
Metatron dropped down with a grin. “You’re really going out in that? You look like a literal cabbage.”
“This is called a white dress shirt, okay? Never seen one before?” I snapped. “I don’t own a single proper formal outfit. This thing cost me three gold coins at the last minute, and it already hurts.”
Then I looked up and down at Metatron’s outfit, mimicking his signature eyebrow lift. “Yo, Your Highness, getting married today?”
Metatron preened in front of the mirror, adjusting his cape and smoothing his hair. “How do I look? Totally knocked you out, didn’t I? Aha.”
“Not bad. Finally presentable.”
As soon as I said that, I bolted out the door. Not long after, I heard Metatron shouting behind me, “Michael, get back here!”
Just outside the residential district, I saw the sky packed with angels. Wings everywhere, dazzling in every color, white, gold, blue, silver, arranged in twos, fours, sixes, styles of every kind.
“Ahaha, gotcha!” Metatron caught up and grabbed my collar, ruffling my hair like crazy.
“Hands off! You’re ruining my fluff!”
He paused, then let go.
I thought I’d been too harsh and was about to smooth things over, when he suddenly doubled over laughing, completely out of breath.
I rubbed my already messy hair, flapped my wings, and spun into the air like a ballerina heading toward the Seventh Heaven, only to be yanked down and dragged onto a carriage. I had barely sat down when I spotted the feather of one of the heavenly steeds outside flutter like falling snow.
I was about to suggest skipping the ride, but Metatron beat me to it. “Don’t even think about it. Even Powers are riding unicorns today. You’re coming with me.”
“Then the area outside the Sanctum must be pretty spectacular.”
“Sure is. Too bad the six wings have to pull cleanup duty tomorrow morning. Imagine cleaning mountains of unicorn poop.”
“You’re kidding. This happen every year?”
“Not always. Only when lower-ranked angels attend. Normally, the higher-ups know to take their mounts to the designated… relief zones. They even clean up after them. But the lower ranks—well, what can I say? Life in the rustic meadows of the Third Heaven’s got them used to… leaving souvenirs everywhere. It’s practically tradition. And honestly, with a once-in-a-century chance to visit the Sanctum, do you think they care about sanitation?”
Metatron shrugged like it was no big deal, then signaled the coachman to depart.
With a loud neigh, the carriage jolted, and eight pegasi galloped forward before lifting off, carrying us through the clouds as if we weighed nothing.
In truth, Metatron likely understood better than anyone that the inequality between angels was baked into the hierarchy of Heaven itself. But that didn’t stop him from looking down on the lower-ranks. Equality is always a luxury sought by the lesser. Rarely will a noble stoop to share it. And even if they seem kind, it’s always from a place of lofty benevolence. Charity, never solidarity.
But I couldn’t really blame him. Anyone born into that kind of privilege would grow used to it, come to fear change, and ultimately stop thinking about those beneath them. That’s why I still didn’t understand what drove Lucifer to rebel. Was it really about challenging the system of Heaven, or was it just ambition in disguise?
The carriage entered Sancta Faylia.
The massive city gates stood tall and proud, split by colossal columns, each topped with a roaring gryphon. Beams of gold stretched across the dark sky, scattering light like fireflies. The carriage raced through the gates, a radiant streak trailing behind.
It was actually dark in the Seventh Heaven.
Startled, I stuck my head out the window, watching the glittering city lights bloom under a navy sky.
Metatron leaned closer, his voice soft at my ear. “Celebrations feel livelier in the dark. That’s why God dimmed the stars.”
The imperial capital was a sea of angelic heads. The golden architecture glowed with even more majesty, and far off in the distance, the Seraphim Palace loomed like three titanic figures standing shoulder-to-shoulder atop the highest point of Sancta Faylia.
Just then, a little girl on the street looked up, pointed at our carriage and shouted, “Mama, look! There’s a kite in the sky!”
I poked my head out. “Have you ever seen a kite this abstract?”
“You’re really bickering with a child at your size? Aren’t you ashamed?” said Metatron, pointing at a pale blue unicorn-drawn carriage. “Gabriel’s here.”
I nodded and pointed to the slower, champagne-gold carriage behind it. “That one’s probably Raphael’s, right?”
Metatron grunted an acknowledgment, then gestured toward a gold-eyed man riding a gryphon. “Sariel.” Then to another, snake-tattooed man on a Pegasus. “Samael.”
“So, all the warrior angels ride their mounts, and all the mages take carriages?”
“More or less.”
Samael pulled out a glittering orb and tossed it skyward. Sariel drew an arrow from the quiver strapped to his leg and shot it. The arrow streaked through the darkness and hit the orb midair. It burst into a cascade of willow-like sparks that slowly fell in a glittering rain.
Sariel whooped and spun his bow, yanking on the reins as his gryphon charged off.
“What was that?”
“Festival magic. Just don’t crush one in your hand unless you want to be the evening’s roasted angel.”
I laughed hard, then pointed to a pitch-black carriage topped with a giant red wreath. “What about that one?”
“That’s the stutterer.”
Figures. Even Sandalphon’s carriage looked like him, a perfect match of man and ride.
At that moment, Metatron suddenly clutched his head and slumped dramatically. “No! I was wrong—the blue one’s just Gabriel’s carriage. She’s behind us…”
I leaned out to look—
Shock!
Gabriel was wearing a sheer evening gown, her long hair pulled high with silk ribbons, golden waves spilling to her waist and sprinkled with lily petals. She was barefoot, her slender legs perfectly sculpted, her gown rippling in the wind like ocean waves.
It was obvious she’d gone all out tonight. She was stunning.
But her mount…
She… she was riding a gryphon. And she’d left her crystal heels on its head.
In all of Heaven, only she—a mage—would ride a gryphon.
Only she—a female angel—would ride a gryphon.
Only she… would use her mount’s head as shoe rack.
Metatron dragged me back inside, head ducked low. “Michael, there’ll be lots of new angels tonight. If any of them ask whether you and I know Gabriel, you must swear—swear—you’d say no.”
Gabriel’s massive gryphon stopped outside the Seraphim Palace, and we pulled up behind. She tossed her heels to the ground with a crisp clink. We tiptoed past like members of the Anti-Large-Foot-Noise Patrol.
Gabriel hopped off the gryphon, landed squarely in her heels, then bent slightly to smooth her skirt with elegance. Behind us, she called sweetly:
“Good evening, Lord Metatron.”
Metatron instantly wore the expression of a man walking to his doom. His face twitched with restrained veins. He turned with a forced smile. “Good evening.”
Gabriel took out a small whistle, gave it a toot, and the gryphon flapped off. She came up beside us, dusted fur off her dress, and Metatron, eyes closed in solemn resignation, offered his crooked elbow.
Gabriel curtseyed and took his arm. “Thank you.”
The stairs stretched on endlessly, filled with angels. Night draped the Sanctum in its dark cloak, and the soft gold glow of the steps lit half the sky.
Maybe it was the crowd, but today the Sanctum felt less solemn than usual.
A spacious corridor appeared ahead. Along the way, many came to greet Metatron and Gabriel. Naturally, I was the invisible third wheel. Their chats weren’t even that engaging, but they kept turning their backs on me. One of the doorkeepers actually thought I was blocking the way and politely told me to hurry up. Luckily, Metatron wasn’t the chatty type and wrapped it up quickly.
Once inside the main hall, I was hit with a wave of awe.
The chamber was tall as a mountain and vast as a sea, divided into four layered levels: the first was where we stood; the second, a ring-shaped platform floating midair; the third, a diamond-shaped platform suspended above the second; and the fourth, a round platform at the very top. Each level had glowing railings: silver, gold, and holy light, decorated with carvings of flowers, wings, and halos. They housed the four tiers of authority: lower angels, mid-level angels, upper angels, and the Triune God.
Even divided like this, the Sanctum was so massive its end could not be seen. Thousands of tiny alcoves dotted the walls, each holding a candle whose glow shimmered like stars, but none as bright as the top.
There, seated on high, was God, silver hair and white robes pouring down like waterfall.
To His left sat the Lord. To His right—Lucifer.
I hadn’t realized Lucifer’s popularity was this explosive. Of the whispers around me, nine out of ten weren’t “Look, there’s God,” but “I saw Lord Lucifer!”, their voices brimming with awe and giddy disbelief.
I looked up, straining to see him. He was gazing out the splendid stained glass windows, overlooking the dazzling, mysterious capital.
Lucifer was the light of Heaven. He was meant to belong to everyone.
Metatron, Gabriel, and I took flight together. Metatron wanted to bring me higher, but I stubbornly remained among the mid-tier angels. Half an hour later, I started regretting my mule-headedness. The mid-tier section was huge, spanning from Virtues to Dominions, and ever since I sat down, I’d been bombarded with nonstop gossip about myself. Thirty minutes in and still going. My head was pounding.
High above, Lucifer sat like a figure sculpted by divine hands—his features perfect, one hand resting on the armrest, the other on his stomach, seemingly absentminded.
I watched him for so long I fell into a daze, and the noise around me eventually faded.
Until the hall grew completely silent and the Lord announced:
“Sons and daughters of God, in the name of the Lord, I welcome you here to celebrate this century’s Day of Creation, as we begin a new hundred years.”
The angels answered in unison: “Hallelujah.”
“Children, let us behold what we already possess—what God has gifted us.”
No sooner had the words fallen than a familiar voice called out from the crowd with a dramatic drawl:
“…Samael actually went?!”
The hall erupted in laughter.
A flash of holy light. Azazel could be heard struggling with muffled cries, mouth sealed shut.
Lucifer said coldly, “That was your last warning tonight.”
Author: Tav Tav
Translating
The Right Wing of God, the one seated at the right hand of the Most High.
