Upon arriving at Shimada's residence, Sandalphon returned the burnt and charred items from my pocket. Apart from the keys, coins, and a single feather, everything else, like my student ID and notes, had turned into a pile of charcoal. I was already stressed about the upcoming paperwork to reinstate myself, but then I noticed a perfectly intact small feather made of gold and silver mixed together—likely plucked from a young angel. This would be perfect to ask Carlo about.
I knocked on Carlo's door, and I could hear a whimper from inside. Without waiting, I pushed the door open and found Carlo lying on the bed, his hair shining with a faint silver hue.
"Isar?"
"What's wrong with you?" I walked over and patted his shoulder.
I patted Carlo's shoulder again. "What's going on with you?"
Carlo sat up, rubbing his eyes and hugging himself as if he were a fragile boat adrift in the vast sea. His eyes were swollen like walnuts, and tears flowed continuously. "I've been dumped... What should I do?"
I sighed and continued patting his shoulder. "Don't be sad. Tell me what happened. Slowly, maybe I can help you figure things out."
Carlo slumped into my embrace, as if he had found a safe harbor, constantly heaving his fragile shoulders. "Wuu, wuu, wuu..."
Then Carlo tearfully recounted how he had been mistreated by the Archangels.
During the month I was absent, he had specially gone to the shores of Lake Seya to request leave on my behalf. During that time, he had encountered Raphael and expressed his desire to act, so Raphael had given him a minor role to join the cast. Over the following days, the two spent a lot of time together and eventually, on a dark and windy night, they couldn't help but kiss. But Raphael later rejected Carlo's confession, implying that he had feelings for someone else, which Carlo suspected to be Gabriel. It seemed that Raphael had told Gabriel about this, and she quickly spread the news to all the Divine Magic and Seventh Heaven students, adding fuel to the fire and portraying Carlo as someone desperately pursuing others.
Carlo cried heavily against my chest, and my clothes were soaked as if they had just been taken out of a washing machine.
At this point, I was disappointed in Gabriel, but the whole situation didn't seem irreparable. I patted his shoulder and said, "Why do you let people push you around? Don't you know how to fight back?"
Carlo shook his head weakly. "I can't do it."
Hearing this, and thinking about the high and mighty Archangels who trampled over others, I couldn't help but feel angry. "Why are my friends getting weaker and weaker? You fool, if you don't fight back, you'll only continue to be bullied."
The world was full of unfairness, but Carlo was my only friend in Heaven, and that made me care about his situation.
The next day, I was extremely distracted in magic class. I had been absent for no reason for a month, and I had roasted the wings of numerous angels. The professor was about to kick me out of the classroom, but ultimately, he relented, likely due to Lucifer's influence.
In the afternoon, I had a map in hand as I tried to find the shores of Lake Seya. After locating my position, I suddenly noticed the word "Water Mirror" in parentheses behind "Lake Seya" on the map. I remembered Carlo saying that a Water Mirror was the opposite of a Wind Mirror, a mirror that could show the past. This could be extremely helpful to me. However, after walking along the lakeside for a long time, all I found was dense green forests and crystal-clear, bottomless lake waters.
I reached out to wash my hands in the water when suddenly, the surface of the water began to shimmer with golden light. Startled, I immediately withdrew my hand, but I heard voices.
Looking around, there was no one in sight.
Could it be that I was seeing ghosts?
Those voices seemed to be chanting in unison.
"Isar must die! Isar must die! Isar must die..."
Then a familiar voice spoke up.
"Sell your soul to demons and then kill them, Angels of Power, you are so despicable! You have no right to complain about the injustice in Saint Valeria if you stoop so low! If you haven't gained power, you should strive for it, you should resist, instead of committing even more despicable acts to retaliate against the higher-ranking angels!"
That voice belonged to... Isar?
After a while, I finally located the source of the voice.
The waters of Lake Seya were showing images from the past: Isar was raising his hand high, kneeling on the steps with his legs bare. Countless Angels of Power were standing behind him, ready to tear him to shreds.
The Archangel standing on the steps was Metatron, dressed in a pilgrimage robe.
Isar lifted his young and determined face, gazing directly at Metatron with an expression full of defiance and determination. "I refuse to be an Angel of Power any longer, Lord Metatron, please grant me four wings!"
Metatron seemed slightly surprised. "Are you sure about this? No regrets?"
Isar seemed to want to turn back, but he held himself back and looked up at Metatron, nodding firmly.
Metatron held a bundle of light in his hands.
As the light descended, Isar's ashen wings were severed.
Blood gushed from Isar's back, flowing down the steps like a winding red river. His face was pale, but he only made a faint grunt. I had always thought of him as a bit of a crybaby, but it seemed I was wrong. He wasn't a woman or a man; he was simply a cockroach!
A six-winged angel held Isar's mouth shut, poured a bottle of medicine down his throat, and forcefully threw the bottle aside. Isar coughed violently, his face turning bright red.
Metatron sighed and used magic to envelop Isar in a silver-white radiance, concentrating it on his back. The sound of flesh tearing came from the wound, as if a heavy object was continuously striking his back. Isar almost fell to the ground several times but managed to straighten his back each time. Finally, four white wings burst forth from Isar's back with tremendous force!
Like being kicked hard, Isar fell to the ground, biting his hand, and blood flowed almost immediately.
Afterward, Metatron left with all the angels behind him, their faces filled with jealousy and resentment.
Although they were new wings, they hung lifelessly on Isar's body. He looked at them with tears of shame in his eyes.
At that moment, a pair of white boots stopped in front of him, pristine and without a speck of dirt, forming a stark contrast with his dirty face.
Isar lifted his head, locking eyes with a pair of cerulean blue pupils:
"Lord Lucifer?"
Lucifer offered a faint smile, his gaze exuding an untouchable nobility:
"You've done well."
Isar nodded as if he were in a dream.
The Archangel merely acted as an observer for this performance and soon took flight with his wings. Meanwhile, Isar stood alone on the empty steps, gazing at Lucifer's distant figure, his soul seemingly lost. The waters' surface gradually blurred, transitioning into another scene:
The street was speckled with light, the lampposts casting a dim glow, and the streets were bustling with people. Alongside the road, a street sign read "68th Street," the heart of Shimada's homosexual district.
Isar treaded cautiously, as if sneaking through the streets. He was intercepted by a male Angel with four wings:
"New here?"
With a head of disheveled curls, Isar had an innocent face, as pure as a green apple:
"Do you know any exciting places around here?"
"The most famous spot is the 'Eule House'... But it's quite late now, and hunting might be challenging. You might as well come with me..." He reached out to Isar's shoulder, but Isar instinctively stepped back.
The male Angel grew angry and embarrassed: "You're not even weaned yet, and you've come here? You should go back and have your mother's milk!"
Isar quickly fled. After a while, he stopped by a fountain, scooping up some water to wet his hair and patting it down. He unbuttoned his collar and struck various poses, thinking they made him appear alluring. After practicing for a while, he raised his head and cast a seductive look at the passing Angels. However, this look nearly blinded him: "Lord Metatron..."
Metatron was indeed there, walking behind the Angel with a woman on each arm, giving them pecks on their cheeks:
"Little Isar? You're here too?"
"I just finished and came back."
"Where did you go?"
Isar looked around awkwardly, ran his fingers through his hair, and tried to mimic the disheveled appearance of the night revelers, giving a seductive, disoriented look:
"To the 'Eule House.' I didn't find it exciting there, so I left."
Metatron released the women, and his eyes suddenly lit up:
"Oh? You found the 'Eule House' not exciting enough? Then come with me."
"Sure... sure."
Seeing this, I assumed Isar didn't know that the 'Eule House' was a gay club.
Shimada's Love Hotel was vastly different from the human world's; it was predominantly white, with a beautiful, small fountain in the center of each room.
Metatron pushed Isar onto the bed while removing his clothes and asked:
"Are you more of a 'top' or a 'bottom'?"
"top..." When Isar saw Metatron's brow furrowing, he quickly corrected, "bottom..." Seeing the puzzling look again, he hastily said, "top..."
"Are you giving a military code?"
Isar fell silent.
"I'm pure top. Fold your wings." Metatron undressed Isar to his wrists. When he noticed Isar's persistent silence, he looked up and said, "Don't tell me you're going to bed with your wings on?"
Isar quickly folded his wings.
After they both undressed, Isar felt awkward, avoiding direct eye contact with each other. Metatron licked his earlobe, but Isar didn't react. Clearly, Isar was still inexperienced, even I felt anxious for him, not to mention the experienced Metatron.
"Little Isar, when you're a bottom, remember to spread your legs first." Metatron casually commented, and Isar's expression seemed like he might commit suicide at any moment.
He appeared not to notice Isar's discomfort. Metatron gently spread Isar's legs, applied ointment, and performed every action smoothly. Just when Isar was about to enter, his hands blocked Metatron's chest, his voice trembling:
"Lord, not so fast..."
Metatron raised an eyebrow and looked at him with an ironic smile. He kissed him passionately, then slowly pushed forward as Isar relaxed.
Isar was trembling all over, and his head was shaking like a tambourine: "It hurts... Why does it hurt so much..."
"The first time is always painful, but it will get better." Metatron widened Isar's legs and gently moved inside.
After a brief shock, Isar felt even more embarrassed.
...
Afterward, Metatron wasn't gentle. He tossed a bottle of medicine to Isar and left. The rumors that Metatron was a hedonist who disliked inexperienced partners seemed to be true.
I intended to keep watching, but I heard voices from the theater troupe in the distance. I quickly retreated a few steps, and the scenes on the lake disappeared naturally.
Gabriel and Raphael approached one after the other. As soon as they saw me, Gabriel said coldly, "Isar, missing the first day is fine, even two or three days are acceptable. But a whole month? Are you thinking of quitting?"
I originally wanted to explain and apologize, but when I saw them, I remembered how they bullied Carlo, so I remained silent and gloomy.
Raphael quickly intervened, "Never mind. It's still early before the Genesis. Let's start fresh. Isar, just make sure not to be late from now on."
Gabriel glanced at me and grew even angrier, "What's with that expression? There's no hint of remorse. No, we should revoke his acting qualification, or else I won't perform."
"Wait, Gabriel. He's just a newbie. We should hear his explanation."
Gabriel scoffed, "Did you hear that? He said he doesn't want to perform. We've been waiting for nothing for a month."
Raphael pulled me aside, "Don't be impulsive. Carlo even came to request leave for you. We all know you must have had a reason."
Mentioning Carlo usually infuriated me, but to my surprise, Gabriel added, "Huh, like master, like servant. Your friend is quite remarkable."
"Gabriel, you're being too modest. You're already an Archangel, yet you're as petty and vain as us lowly Angels."
Gabriel stared at me, speechless for a moment. All the Angels dared not speak.
"Hey, Isar, you're right. Gabriel talks too much. So, when we have a chance, men like him run away."
A voice...
I turned around and indeed saw Metatron. He smiled, pulled me close to his chest, and waved at Raphael, "I told you virgins are troublesome. Gabriel is all grown up, yet he bullies children."
The Angels following him all laughed softly and some even exclaimed in surprise, "Oh my, Gabriel is..."
Gabriel's face alternated between pale and flushed as he glanced at Raphael before flying away. Raphael looked at Metatron, wearing a helpless smile.
Metatron rubbed my nose, "Behave yourself, and read the script. If you have any questions, come to me."
He handed me a script, gave my lips a kiss, and flew away.
I flew to the lake's edge, shocked, and covered mymouth. I flew back a few steps, almost crashing into a tree!
I couldn't believe that in this lifetime, I had just kissed a man. The sensation was indescribably unsettling, sending shivers down my spine!
I spent at least ten minutes rinsing my mouth at the lake, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. Afterward, I wiped my lips and started reading the script.
The play, titled "Divine Condemnation," was a love triangle involving one woman and two men, with one hero and one villain. The female lead was a pure and beautiful saint.
The story unfolded on a dark and stormy night when the saint found herself in a secluded forest, encountering Satan. In a typical fashion, Satan became infatuated with her beauty and attempted to defile her. Then, the handsome warrior angel hero arrived, engaged in a fierce battle with Satan, and defeated him. However, Satan, unwilling to give up, resorted to numerous nefarious tactics, causing harm to many innocent beings, all in pursuit of the saint. The tangled love story spanned thousands of words, but in the end, during Satan's final attempt to violate the saint, the hero threw an exquisite sword, which the saint caught. With a swift motion, she struck down the villain. The saint then returned to the castle, and they all lived happily ever after, with the angel prince.
In this play, I was to portray Satan, who was merely a common demon king, doomed to be vanquished. Satan here wasn't the ruler of the underworld, nor was he Lucifer in his fallen state. The Satan I portrayed was just an ordinary demon king who was destined to be defeated.
Gripping the script tightly, I patted Metatron's shoulder, saying, "Brother, don't you find this plot rather cliché?"
Metatron raised an eyebrow, "Cliché indeed, but you know how it is in the eyes of the Divine. If I were allowed to improvise, I'd have this woman meet her end."
"I can't believe you're a fan of tragedies."
"Who said this is a tragedy? Letting the warrior angel and Satan elope isn't a better ending?"
Because of my shortcomings in the previous month, my progress was noticeably slower than others. Fortunately, the first scene had only a few lines. It was Gabriel walking in the woods, and I rushed over, grabbed her hand, and tugged and pulled for a while, waiting for Raphael to come out and start the fight. I didn't hold back in this scene, purposely putting in extra effort when grabbing her hand. Gabriel was left speechless and could only glare at me.
Actually, despite her temper, in my experience, people who explode in anger on the surface don't hold grudges and talk behind others' backs. Could it be that the intensity of an angel's outburst is different from that of regular people?
Regardless, it was a fact that she treated Carlo poorly, and I was determined not to be swayed by her beauty!
The strict discipline of the celestial theater troupe left me in awe.
One afternoon, we kept rehearsing the opening scene, and dozens or even hundreds of extras stood by, watching. Everyone didn't seem to get tired, but I had to keep running and maintain a sinister smile. My facial muscles were twitching uncontrollably. Days beyond the sixth day had no nights, just days without the sun. By the time we finished our busy day, the sun had already set.
After the extras dispersed, Metatron asked if I wanted to join him for dinner. Although I was almost too broke to afford a meal, I couldn't help but think of that kiss. I said, "I really don't feel well."
For once, he didn't whine and cry like a big baby, and I felt somewhat relieved.
Limping back to my own room, I carefully lifted my foot and took off my shoes, only to discover that my socks were stained with blood, and my toes hurt so much that they couldn't move. It was from all the running back and forth on the lawn. I unrolled my socks layer by layer, attempted to move my toes, and each movement sent shivers down my spine.
I climbed onto the windowsill and scooped some water from the small pool on the platform, rinsing off the blood. I clenched my teeth and jumped back onto the bed, opening the recently learned celestial history to read.
Looking at the inexplicably learned text and completely unfamiliar history, I still felt like I was dreaming in this setting.
Lucifer doesn't recognize Tom Ellis.
Could it be that Tom Ellis is the fallen Lucifer?
If that assumption were true, it would be terrifying. Because from Lucifer and Metatron's conversation, it could be inferred that Adam had just been named, which means that the ancestors of humanity had just appeared in the Garden of Eden.
In other words, if no one saves me, I will have to relive the birth of Adam and Eve, followed by Seth, then Enos, then Kenan, then Mahalalel, and so on, until Noah, who would then lead his family into the ark, or tribal communities, alliance of tribes, the Stone Age, the Metal Age, the three major divisions of society, the age of ignorance, the age of civilization, Persian Empire, Darius I's reforms, Mayan culture, Incan culture, the English bourgeoisie revolution, the Hundred Days' Reform, the era of iron and blood, the American War of Independence, the October Revolution, the Afghan War of Independence... and only then would I be born.
Astronomers say that in the grand scheme of the universe's lifespan, Earth's existence is like a grain of sand in the ocean. In terms of Earth's lifespan, human history is just one second in a year.
But at this moment, this "one second" felt chillingly long... "I've never seen such a messy person," a young voice snapped me out of my reverie.
I suddenly looked up and saw the naughty kid hanging on the windowsill, and I was almost startled by his resemblance to Sukehisa Tsukimoto:
"Is Master Lucifinil talking to me?"
The little angel frowned, looking at my foot, "The divine family cherishes their wings and feet the most, what happened to yours?"
I raised my foot and examined it, puzzled, "I've already stopped the bleeding, and I rinsed it with water, it's clean." Isar's foot was fair, slender, with rounded and healthy toenails, no signs of athlete's foot; it was quite pleasing.
The little angel looked rather arrogant, "You shouldn't walk until the injury has completely healed."
"Master Lucifinil, I'm not living the high life like you; a little injury doesn't bother me. We have rehearsals tomorrow, so stop bothering me here and go back."
The little angel shook his head and flapped his wings, flying over like a small bee, "You're impossible."
I was about to tease him for his solemn and grown-up demeanor when he gently crossed his two pale, delicate hands in front of his chest, closed his eyes, and his golden hair floated lightly. Suddenly, the room was filled with a brilliant golden light, like the ebb and flow of the tide. The halo on his porcelain-like skin resembled the morning sun rising in the east, unstoppable.
Next, the blood droplets that had just emerged slowly sank and disappeared completely.
I wiggled my toes in amazement, exclaiming, "Wow, it's all better now? Little buddy, your healing magic is amazing!"
"What did you just call me?"
Although his tone was strict, his big, round eyes were filled with blue irises, with very little white showing, making him look quite pitiful. I grabbed him and said, "You may look like a naughty kid, but you're actually not bad. I've decided to let you call me big brother."
I swayed the little angel while holding him, and his tousled hair followed suit. Throughout this process, he stared at me with angry eyes, his small face puffing up because of tightly pursed lips. Even though he tried to open his eyes wide, his irises still occupied a vast expanse, those clear and bright blue orbs.