At dawn, a loud thumping came from the floor-to-ceiling window. I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and flew over to draw the long curtains. A mischievous face appeared on the other side of the glass. I froze. So did he.
Slowly, I opened the window. “Mammon? Do you need something?”
A cold gust of wind swept in, making me shiver. I dove back under the covers.
Mammon stepped in, tugging at my hair—lift, release, lift, release. “Mi…chael?”
Wrapped up like a burrito, I grumbled, “Not feeling well the past couple days. Shrinking down saves energy.”
Mammon reached into the covers and found my hand, then gripped it and started dragging me out.
I resisted. “I’m exhausted. Let me sleep a bit longer.”
“It’s past noon, and you’re still in bed?”
I bolted upright. “Past noon?!”
He pointed to the black clock tower outside. “See for yourself.”
I stared out, horrified. I had meant to wake at seven to recuperate and plan my next steps, but…
Mammon’s garnet-red eyes blinked once. Then blinked again. Slowly, he leaned closer and poked my arm. I looked up. He pinched my shoulder.
Finally, he nodded solemnly. “So small…”
I slapped his hand away and began adjusting my clothes. Without warning, he slipped his hands under my arms and lifted me onto his lap. I was used to looking people in the eye—now all I could see was the silver chain around his neck, its pendant a black-pearl-embedded sigil of the Son of Satan.
I had to tilt my head up forty-five degrees to see his face.
Mammon’s eyes curved into crescents. He squeezed my cheeks and gave me a quick kiss. “So round and squishy.”
“Enough. Put me down.” Was this kid a closet pedophile?
Grinning, Mammon lifted me and spun around a few times. I caught sight of my tiny clothes flapping like flags. Then he set me back on the bed. “Just stay like this.”
“Why?”
“It’s easier for me to bully you this way.”
He gently smoothed my wings, cradled them, and rubbed them.
I smacked his face—but the sound was barely a whisper, completely ineffective. Mammon just chuckled. “Alright, let’s not fool around here. I’m taking you out.”
“To where?”
“The Cathedral of Bones.”
I paused. “Why?”
He didn’t answer, just grabbed my clothes and dressed me. Then he bent his arm for me to perch on, and took flight toward the northern edge of Pandemonium.
The cold wind stung my face. Snow painted Rhodheoga into a frozen fairytale. I clung to his neck, nestling against his chest, before pulling away, realizing how quickly I’d grown used to leaning on someone.
Mammon glared at me sideways. “You’re ill, so stop acting tough. Hold on tight or I’ll drop you.”
“Go ahead. I can fly.”
He slapped my backside, hard. I bit his shoulder.
He gasped. I flashed a V-sign in his face.
The Cathedral loomed in the north like a towering fishbone. Guards lined the entrance like statues carved from bone, silent and still. Mammon carried me in, down a long, dim gray corridor. A wave of icy solemnity hit us.
Then I looked up—and froze.
Skulls. Everywhere.
Candle stands to our left and right were built from hundreds of bones. Ahead, a skeletal monument of a fallen angel rose seven or eight tiers high, each level centered with a skull. The ceiling and walls were tiled with limb bones, the carpet trimmed with wing bones. I’d never seen so many angelic remains. I clung instinctively to Mammon’s neck.
For once, even cheerful Mammon said nothing. He carried me deeper into the church.
The Cathedral was far larger than I’d imagined. Even the chandeliers were built from hundreds of shinbones strung together, joined by hands, each skull polished thin as parchment, filled with flickering blue flames.
Beneath the largest chandelier stood a grand altar, constructed entirely again from bones. Hexagrams, crowns, streamers—every piece shaped from ivory-white fragments. Behind the altar was a throne backed by six skeletal wings, shredded like a spider’s web. On the platform before it knelt a small angel’s skeleton.
Mammon approached and gently stroked its skull. “This was my brother. The one who was supposed to be Mammon. After he died, Father carried him here.”
The skeleton was tiny, no bigger than a newborn. Four little wings unfurled behind its back. Its knees were bent, hands clasped as if in prayer.
Hollow eye sockets. A hollow mouth. No flesh, no blood… just a pale, white skeleton.
Mammon said, “That night, I got carried away. I said a lot of cruel things. But the truth is—I really like him. Even if I only ever saw him in this form. Michael, I owe you an apology.”
I shook my head and gently wriggled out of his arms. Hovering in the air, I let my fingers brush over each of the bones. Cold. Rigid. Yet strangely familiar and dear.
I held his clasped hands and kissed his forehead. In a whisper, I said, “Son… you must have been beautiful.”
“I heard he really was good-looking. At least better looking than me. That’s why he was always a sore spot for my dad. This cathedral took thousands of years to build—and my dad only came here once. That was the day he brought his skeleton.”
“What is his name?”
“Alec.”
My eyes burned. My fingers trembled. I clasped his hands tighter, and finally, I couldn’t hold back. I pulled the tiny skeleton into a full embrace.
Alec… if only you were still alive.
Just then, a horn sounded through the capital.
Mammon tilted his head, listening for a moment. Then he patted my shoulder. “Some important guests are arriving. We have to go.”
I nodded, took off my little coat, and draped it over the skeleton’s shoulders. I buttoned it up, patted his head, and pressed a kiss to his cheekbone before flying over to perch on Mammon’s arms.
Mammon held me close and flew out.
The little skeleton, wrapped in a white silk coat, remained in that same posture—kneeling quietly in prayer.
We flew farther and farther away, until I could no longer see him.
The majestic palace sprawled across Rhodheoga. At the wide, square entrance of Pandemonium, high-ranking demon officials stood in full regalia. I burned through more of my magic to return to my adult form, then walked forward beside Mammon.
From a distance, I spotted Lucifer standing on the dark stone steps, his cloak trailing just past his boots. Behind him stood the Lords of Hell; before him, a long procession of angels. At the front were two six-winged angels—one a Throne, the other a Seraph. The Throne wore a black robe and a crown of flowers; the Seraph had shoulder-length golden hair, as radiant as the golden roses of Sancta Faylia.
Lucifer spoke to someone at his side. The figure quickly descended the steps, but after spotting us, turned back and said something to Lucifer.
Lucifer pointed in our direction. The Seraph and Throne both turned.
Sure enough—it was Raphael and Sandalphon. They came toward us, followed by another Dominion.
When I looked closely, I saw that it was Iophiel.
“You’re all here?” I asked.
Raphael replied, “Hanniah led the troops back to Heaven without authorization. God has placed him under house arrest and barred him from leaving. As for Metatron—he visited the Demon Realm privately, so after being summoned by the Father this morning, he was also confined. That’s why Sandalphon and I have come instead. First, to return the angelic legions to your command. Second, to deliver two important messages.”
“So I still can’t go back?”
Sandalphon: “Yes.”
“Why? I’ve already completed the mission.”
“Yes.”
“…What’s wrong with you?”
“Right.”
Raphael chuckled. “Lately, people have been criticizing his stutter. So to avoid slipping up, he’s limited himself to one-word answers.”
“……”
Raphael continued, “And the two messages are…”
“That first, God is pleased with the outcome of my negotiations. Second… He and many angels are greatly displeased with how I went about it.”
Raphael paused slightly, a shadow passing over his face.
“Yes… So Your Highness had already guessed. God holds no blame against you. It’s the other angels who oppose you.”
“Thank God. So when can I return?”
“This is a sensitive time. I suggest you lay low. Wait at least half a year before going back.”
“I understand. Is there anything else?”
Raphael glanced toward Iophiel, who had been following them.
Iophiel stepped forward. “Lord Michael, please come with me.”
I gave Mammon a look. He nodded, blew me a kiss, then leaned lazily against a nearby statue, shooting Raphael a provocative glare.
I followed Iophiel to a more secluded spot. He spoke quickly, “Half a year won’t be enough. Please don’t return so soon. It’s best to wait until Lord Metatron comes to retrieve you…”
“But Metatron’s been confined, so how long will that take?”
“I don’t know. But if you go back now, things could go very badly. Your Highness—once, I overheard Lord Metatron and Lord Raphael talking. They mentioned your third memory crystal was somewhere in the Demon Realm. If you’re at a loss for what to do, perhaps you can search for it.”
I blinked, only then remembering my memories weren’t complete. But before I could respond, Raphael’s voice cut in behind us: “That was a long time ago. It might not even be there anymore.”
“I’ll try to look for it. Honestly, I’m not in a hurry.”
Raphael said, “Lord Reynor once pledged the entire Arterra bloodline to God. Would Your Highness Michael happen to be interested in the details of that?”
I looked up sharply. “What do you know?”
“The Lord said the account was originally kept in the archives of the Tower of Luminescence. But now, if you try reading it in Heaven, the pages are all blank. That’s because when Lucifer fell, he sealed those records and took them to the Demon Realm.”
“Thank you.”
Raphael smiled faintly. “You’re welcome. Though knowing this probably won’t do you much good. Still, you might find clues in the books… especially with your memory still incomplete.”
Only then did I realize—even if the Arterra ‘contract of bondage’ were broken… what would that change?
Would I betray God and become a fallen angel? Come here as the third party? Ridiculous.
After a bit more idle conversation, Raphael and the others left. I returned to the palace gates and found the little smoke devil polluting the air as usual, draped against a statue.
Mammon crooked a finger at me. I shook my head helplessly and walked over. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“Who says I don’t? I work, okay?”
“What kind of work?”
“Finance.”
Mammon wasn’t just the commander of the Royal Knights; he was also the Demon Realm’s finance minister and treasurer. Sounded busy, though clearly he had time to waste here.
He took the pipe from his mouth and rested an arm on my shoulder. “Michael, stop being the Archangel. Just fall. God’s favorite hobby is taking the best thing you have and using it to remind you how much you’ve been given, so He can control you. What’s so worth longing for in a place like that?”
“No. God takes the best things away because He wants to give us something better. Look, I lost my honor, but gained peace for my homeland.”
“That’s Heaven. What’s it got to do with you personally?”
“Heaven is the kingdom of angels. So it’s my kingdom too. What do you think it has to do with me?”
Mammon froze as if caught in a film still. Then suddenly, he doubled over laughing. “You really are just like every other angel—such a collectivist! And you say it with a straight face… gods, that’s—too, too good.”
“When it comes to this, you and I will never see eye to eye. I have business with your father. I’m heading off.”
“Slow down, slow down—what’s the rush?” Mammon wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me back into his embrace. “Michael, you’re powerful, devoted to your people, firm in your beliefs. You have a strong will, and you’re beautiful. You’re brave—sometimes even cute. Also… you’re not that bright. All these are your strengths.”
A chill crept down my spine. Powerless to retaliate, I nodded hastily just to get him off me.
Was I dying or something? Was he handing me a lifetime achievement award, with bonus points for being dumb?
“You’re hopelessly devoted,” Mammon added, clutching his chest like he was feeling it for real. “So devoted it hurts just watching you.”
“Let’s not bring that up.”
“You’ve got good traits—I’m pointing them out. Be gracious and accept it.”
What kind of logic was that?
Mammon leaned in and whispered in my ear, “But you also have two fatal flaws. First, you’re strong-willed, but you don’t know how to resist.”
“Isn’t that contradictory?”
“Not at all. Fate should bend to you, not the other way around.”
“That’s because you’re still young.”
“My father’s much older than you, and he agrees with me.” Mammon grinned, flashing his sharp canines. “Second —you’re too kind.”
It took me a while to reach up and touch his forehead. “Kindness is a flaw? Do you have a fever?”
Mammon caught my hand. The silver hoops on his ear glittered. “Think about it—throughout history, overly kind idealists almost always meet a tragic end. Do you want to die young?”
I pulled my hand free. “Enough nonsense. I need to speak with your father.”
Mammon kissed his index and middle fingers, then pressed them to my lips, and winked. “If you insist on putting on a strong front, fine. But even through your shell, I’ll be gentle, so very gentle, I’ll pour every bit of tenderness I have into you… until you open yourself to me.”
I punched him in the face. “You are completely deranged!”
“I’m not a pervert by nature,” Mammon grinned shamelessly, “but when I go off the rails, even Hell holds its breath.”
……
When I found Lucifer, he was alone.
Beside the piano sat a small, exquisitely crafted stand, filled with both ancient and newly written sheet music.
I could just glimpse his half-lowered eyes and brows through the narrow gap in the stand. His arms moved gracefully with the smooth, flowing melody, though from my angle, I couldn’t see his fingers.
I crept up quietly to his side. He missed a few notes but didn’t look up.
His left hand was bare, his right gloved. Those long fingers danced across the black and white keys, shaping a melody as elegant as it was intricate.
“Is there something you need, Lord Michael?” His tone was startlingly kind, as if nothing had happened at the feast.
“I just came to let Your Majesty know I may not be leaving anytime soon. Because of certain… physical conditions, I can’t go to the mortal realm. If it’s inconvenient—”
“I’m very glad you’ll be staying here.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” I hesitated. “Then I’ll take my leave for now.”
The music suddenly flattened. I glanced down and saw he’d dropped both hands at his sides. On the piano, his black glove now moved on its own, dancing lightly across the keys.
I gasped. “That’s incredible.”
Lucifer looked up at me and smiled. “Did you bring gloves?”
I nodded and took out my own white gloves from my belt. He took my right glove, placed it on the keys, and tapped it lightly. A soft blue light spiraled around it and faded.
The white glove began to move, playing notes that brought the melody back to life, this time full and layered.
One black, one white, the two gloves played in perfect harmony, like inseparable lovers dancing across the densely packed keys.
Lucifer looked at me. Snowflakes drifted past the window as if falling from behind him.
“You can’t go back because people have started to oppose you, haven’t they?”
“…Yes.”
“Because of that incident?”
“No. No matter what I do, there will always be those who are dissatisfied.”
Lucifer shifted to the side. “Come sit. Tell me what happened.”
I hesitated, remembering just moments ago the two-thirds of the angelic host God had ordered back to the Demon Realm. Under divine command and the weight of my status, they dared not voice their discontent. Their tone had grown polite, but the warmth and admiration in their eyes were gone. I had helped them coordinate the next few days’ activities and urged them to rest, but just as they left, I overheard one mutter, “Finally over.” Another nudged him in warning, and both glanced at me, nervous, guilty, then quickly slipped away.
These were my soldiers. Veterans of countless battles, chosen for their strength. If even they showed such emotional cracks… I couldn’t imagine how the ordinary angels of Heaven must see me now.
I sat beside Lucifer with a long sigh. “Sometimes I wish I could work miracles—keep everyone from being torn between choices and contradictions. Turns out, chasing ideals is far harder than I imagined when I was young.”
I probably shouldn’t have said so much. He was my enemy, after all. But it had been so long since I’d let my guard down. When you’re worn to the bone, even your enemy can seem like a friend.
Lucifer smiled. “Lord Vice Regent, you’re too selfless for your own good. The world doesn’t make space for heroes. It remembers only those who destroy them.”
“Mammon really is your son. He thinks the same way,” I said, relaxing my shoulders and smiling despite myself. “But I don’t care much about a hero’s reputation. I just think—if you have power, then you have a duty to bear. It’s only right to protect the vulnerable. After all, their suffering—famine, war—far exceeds anything I’ve faced.”
“No one resents you for being a hero. What they resent is the sense of superiority that comes with it.”
“Is that so?”
“The higher you go, the lonelier it gets. Only those who can withstand the loneliness can ascend. And not everyone can reach your height, so you will never be understood by all.”
“Then isn’t the loneliest person in the world either you or God Himself?”
“I haven’t felt it yet. I still have too much to do.”
“Like developing the Demon Realm, conquering Heaven, kill me, kill Jesus, kill God, uniting the Three Realms, and collecting every beauty under the sun into your arms… Once you’ve done all that, then what?”
“You make me sound like an asshole with nothing in his head but ambition and sex drive.”
“Oh, so I misunderstood. What are your true goals then, Your Majesty?”
“My biggest headache right now is that Beelzebub and the others are growing restless. I need to figure out how to deal with them.”
“I won’t apologize for that. You wronged me first. Let’s change the subject. What’s your greatest wish?”
“It’ll never come true, so not worth mentioning.”
“I see.”
After a long pause, I asked again, “Your Majesty, you usually hold your liquor. Why were you drunk last night?”
“You saw?”
“I did.”
But Lucifer didn’t answer.
Snowflakes tapped gently at the glass, like shards of ice breaking apart.
On the piano, the two enchanted gloves danced in harmony, two hands playing a duet.
Softly, I said, “Your Majesty, if you ever had a child, what would you name them?”
The gloves faltered on a note.
Lucifer’s voice was low: “This is what you really wanted to ask, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not. Just a casual question.”
The grand hall was empty.
Outside, the snow fell harder, like silver willow petals, swirling and restless. Lucifer swiftly took the black glove from the piano and pulled it onto his left hand, then tossed the white one toward me.
“Why do you want this child? It’s not Metatron’s.”
I struggled to hold back the heat rising in my chest. “…You did it on purpose!”
On the glossy black piano, his refined profile reflected back at me.
Lucifer gently held his right hand with his left, tugging at the edge of the glove. “If I hadn’t, you would never have considered it. You can get rid of him.”
“What?” I stared in disbelief.
He gripped his right hand tightly, saying nothing.
“Lucifer. Say that again.”
Lucifer leaned softly against the piano, dark hair brushing the keys. Still, he stayed silent.
“I’ve thought it over, Lucifer,” I said. “I’ve been living in the past, always convincing myself you were still the person you used to be. And you’ve been doing the same, haven’t you? But the truth is… we’ve both changed. That time is long gone.”
Lucifer’s fingers tapped lightly on the piano—plink, plink, plink—sounds that struck the heart.
“You’re the only one who changed, Lord Michael. Thanks.”
“No. You changed too. Not a single promise you made ever came true.”
“I can’t remember them.”
“I don’t remember clearly either. So let’s just leave it at that. I’m not blaming you. I was the one who let go first. I was the one who betrayed us. I have no right to resent you. And you told me too, that you loved me back then. Didn’t you?”
“Mm.”
“Then you didn’t deceive me. I’m the one who failed you. And… our child died. I can imagine how much that must have hurt.”
Lucifer opened his right hand, then slowly closed it again.
“Mm.”
“Now you’ve humiliated me in front of everyone. Do you feel better?”
“Mm.”
“Then let’s forget the pain. Let’s forget the past. Your Majesty Lucifer, can we agree never to interfere in each other’s lives again?”
“…Alright.”
“So I’ll keep this child.” I exhaled gently. “I don’t need you to raise him, or love him. You don’t even have to look at him. I’m perfectly capable of raising him alone. And I won’t tell anyone he’s yours.”
The sky darkened. Gray skies, white snow, no hint of golden dusk. The room cooled steadily, until the air felt like it could freeze blood. Lucifer pressed his lips together, their perfect shape touched by pale frost:
“There’s only one question I want to ask you.”
“Go ahead.”
“What you said at the end of the feast … did you mean it? Or was it just to make me feel guilty?”
The hall echoed with silence.
I cursed my own impulsiveness. “I don’t remember what I said.”
Lucifer’s dark eyes met mine. “You said you love me. Is it true?”
I smiled bitterly. “Don’t ask questions that have no meaning or value.”
“You like Metatron, but you like me too. You weren’t using me for him, were you?”
I stared at him, stunned.
Snow whirled in the sky, pure white. The heavens, a lonely dark.
“Forget it, I won’t ask for more.” Lucifer said. He took my hand. “I thought you’d create the child the winged way—but I never imagined…… Either way, you can’t give birth. You can’t possibly bear that kind of pain.”
“I can.”
“I can’t.” He touched my hair with his fingers, softly. “Even the thought of you getting hurt, even a scratch… I can’t bear it. Let alone this.”
I looked at him, dazed.
“There’s so much I want to tell you, some of it good, some bad. It’s been so many years. But every one of them would only become a burden to you. Because I know we’re different. And once you lose your angelic wings, you’ll never be truly happy again. So I can only capture, but never possess you.”
My mind went blank. I could only nod.
“I know that… when your time here is done, you’ll fly back to Heaven.” Lucifer gently smoothed my hair, gazing at me quietly. “So… let me kiss you. Just once more. Is that alright?”
I nodded again, mechanical.
Lucifer smiled faintly. His hand cradled the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair.
Snowflakes danced like white butterflies. Outside the glass came the soft cracking of ice.
He leaned in slowly, his lips pressing gently to mine.
In the still hall, it felt like the piano began to play again, an aching melody.
That’s the sound of snow, the sound of shattered souls.
He lingered there, unmoving, not invading.
As if he meant to hold that moment, until oceans dry, until stars fall.
…………
……
When I stepped out, the corridor was already lit with scattered lamps. Beyond the doors, snow blanketed the world, fluttering down in layers like tender leaves, filling the night sky, so starkly different from the stillness within the palace.
Behind me, the music room was silent.
Crossing the bright, immaculate corridor, I saw the piano standing where it had always been, the lid now closed. The handsome man stood beside the music stand, gazing out at the falling snow. He was tall and straight as a pine, yet so still he seemed more a statue than a living part of that beautiful tableau.
As I stepped outside, wind and snow surged over me in a roaring tide.
The segmented pools in the courtyard had frozen into blocks of deep blue ice, each cradling black roses and drifting petals. The roses were encased in thick frost, glistening like translucent black pearls. Snow piled atop the flowers and the ice like layers of cotton—black and white interlaced in a surreal, dazzling dreamscape.
In the midst of the endless white stood a single black figure.
Mammon leaned lazily against a statue, smoking endlessly. I quickened my pace toward him. “Why are you still here?”
“None of your business.” His lips were a pale violet, his voice so hoarse it sounded like he was dragging each word from his lungs.
“Aren’t you cold?”
“Cold? Archdevils are cold-blooded creatures so why would I be afraid of the cold? Shoo.”
“Where’d you even hear that nonsense about archdevils being cold-blooded?”
“I am an archdevil. I know best.”
I grabbed his hand. “Yeah, your blood’s freezing. Maybe you’re not cold, but I am. I’m leaving. You stay here if you want.”
I turned to go, but Mammon immediately stepped in front of me. “Michael, I’ve waited until nightfall. Shouldn’t you at least thank me a little?” His bone wings were tightly drawn to his body, trembling faintly.
“What do you want?”
“Kiss me.”
If not for the pitiful sight of his purplish lips, I would’ve slapped him right then.
“What do you actually want? If there’s nothing, I’m leaving.”
“Do you even know who I am? Ask anyone in Rhodheoga—when has Mammon ever waited for anyone?”
“I appreciate the gesture. But can you at least state what you want plainly?”
Mammon squinted his large red eyes into slits. “You’re so… boring. What’s the point of being this pretty?”
“Thanks. I’m leaving.”
I had barely taken two steps when Mammon blocked my way again. “Where are you going?”
“To find two things.”
“The crystal and the book about Reynor?”
“You eavesdropped on us!”
“I didn’t move an inch. Devils just have really good hearing—can’t be helped.” He shrugged. “Are you really sure you want to find them? Don’t you think there’s something fishy about what Raphael and that four-wings said?”
“I do. Raphael doesn’t want me to find the orb. Iophiel doesn’t want me to find Heaven’s documents.”
“So between the two, who do you trust?”
“Neither. I trust myself.”
Mammon slung his arm around my waist. “Lord Michael, I love you to death.”
The goosebumps on my arms stood at full attention. I finally shoved him away. “Enough, you revolting little brat.”
Whump!
Mammon shrank.
He zipped around in the air, rocking back and forth. “Not revolting, not at all revolting!”
I was now certain he had found my soft spot. After wobbling for a while, he dove into my arms, his little limbs clinging tightly to me. “Your Highness, it’s so cold-cold—I wanna sleep-sleep with you.”
“No!”
Mammon rubbed against me like a cat, shaking his oversized head pitifully. “I wanna go, I’m gonna go, I’m going! Lord Michael, how could you be so cruel to a cute, innocent, sweet, pure child…!”
His clear childlike voice echoed and echoed and echoed…
By the time he squeaked out another “cold-cold,” my last nerve snapped. “Fine.”
Sigh. A seven-thousand-year-old brat.
When we returned, I was so drained I could barely walk. After putting Mammon on the bed, I shrank too. Mammon instantly dropped the bashful act, flashing his fangs in a wicked grin. Before I could speak, he pounced, pinning me under him. He straddled me, held down both my arms, eyes curved into crescents, lips puckered: “Mimimi~ muah~ muah~”
I punched him square in the face. He flopped backward into a starfish sprawl.
I scrambled off the bed, twisting my ankle in the process. I waddled like a duck for two steps before he grabbed me by the armpits and plopped me back on the bed.
Mammon finally returned to full size and patted my head. “I’ll go get some water to wash your face. Lie down like a good little angel.”
I nodded blankly, watching his lean figure vanish through the doorway.
He returned shortly with water, paused at the door, and said, “You guys just need to prepare to eat something light for breakfast tomorrow. No need to fuss.” Then he stepped in, wrung out a cloth, and gently brushed my bangs aside to wipe my face.
As he cleaned, he said, “If you want a healthy baby, don’t touch any weapons. And don’t go looking for trouble again, got it?”
“You… you knew?”
“Seraphs are of both sexes. Something happened, you’re exhausted, clutching your stomach every day, and you suddenly went to talk to my dad, someone you usually avoid like the plague. If I couldn’t figure it out, I’d be as dumb as you.”
I nodded and lowered my head.
Mammon tilted my chin back up and brought a cup to my lips. “What did my dad say?”
I swished the water around my mouth and spat it into the basin. “This is my business. He and I have nothing to do with each other anymore.”
“Yeah. Forget him. Just give birth.”
“You… don’t mind?”
“I mind. But I know you cherish it.”
I wiped my mouth. “Sorry.”
Mammon pulled my hand away. “Slow down. Don’t use your sleeve—ugh, how did shrinking make you even dumber? What did you say?”
I shook my head.
Mammon tidied things up. “I’ll sleep in the room next door. Tomorrow morning we’ll go to Schmir. The Heavenly archives are all there.”
“How come you suddenly want to—”
Wasn’t his mind always stuck in the gutter?
“Is that so strange? All demons get serious once they want something stable.”
“Stable?”
“Why are you asking so much? Keep it up and I’ll sleep here after all.”
I dove under the covers.
Mammon turned off the lights. In the dark, he smiled at me ambiguously.
“Goodnight.”
Author: Tav Tav
Translating
The Right Wing of God, the one seated at the right hand of the Most High.
