God sighs at the amount of lists on his desk: humans who died, humans who were born, unanswered prayers... every single day the same thing; how boring.
As they flip through the names, their eyes gravitate towards the sleeping figure on the other side of the room, with her limbs spread out as gracefully as an old hippopotamus.
One of the reasons why God has accepted Samael's deal is so that they can get the newcomer to deal with all these infinite lists; like most beings who have been around for far too long, God is tired.
With another huff, God resigns themselves to look the list over once again until Samael disrupts their peaceful activity, by appearing right beside them, with a flutter of black smoke.
"Hi, Daddy," Samael says as a way of greeting.
God glances up from their work, a questioning eyebrow raised.
"You haven't noticed yet?" Samael asks cryptically, waving their hands around as if that helped to explain what they meant, "... don't you sense something strange?"
What does Samael mean? Unlike what most humans think, God isn't aware of everything that goes on in the world, let alone in this realm.
Cocking their head to the side, God attunes themselves to all that's known in existence and their eyes widen in shock.
"Lucifer…," God whispers.
Samael nods, a little amused. After all, they haven't seen Lucifer in so long. Will he still be the same troublemaker that he used to be back then? Will he still be as handsome?
"Shall I send Ramiel?" Samael offers.
Ever since Lucifer has been imprisoned, Ramiel has been the only one to pay him a visit from time to time. If there's someone who could make him go back without causing another war, that would be Ramiel; she's the only one Lucifer listens to.
"No," God shakes their head, "He's already on his way here."
"Interesting," Samael says with a smile, " I wonder who took pity on my little brother."
"That would be her brother," God says, pointing at Ruri with their head.
"Her brother!? Isn't that too much of a coincidence?"
The ice-cold look God gives Samael would be enough to kill a human on the spot, "Please leave, Samael."
Samael doesn't need to be told twice.
If God tries, maybe the features of Lucifer's face, the way he smiled, will come back to them, but for so many millennia, God has deliberately avoided thinking about it.
The punishment God inflicted on Lucifer has always been regarded as cruel and unjust, even by their most trusted Angels. Why not just kill him? Why the mindless torture?
God has never answered that question, not even to themselves.
Perhaps it's because the betrayal of someone you love is worse than any other betrayals — God couldn't bear to kill him but they also couldn't bear to let him get away with it.
While they ponder on this, God finds themselves walking along the stagnant Black River; the putrid smell as pungent as ever.
If God had a living heart it would have been broken by now at the sight of the desolation before them.
With a flick of their hand, a cherry tree in full bloom grows from the soil at once, to cover up the stench. Only when the smell is bearable enough does God sit down, with their back pressed against the newborn tree.
Lucifer is free, God thinks, amidst falling blood-red petals.
Lucifer, who loved God the most and who was the least obedient angel.
Just like that, Lucifer's face, an almost forgotten memory, comes back to God in a hazy flashback.
How beautiful Lucifer was; how obstinate and impertinent. Will he still be the same or has the punishment changed him?
As God reminisces of times past, a starved angel staggers into their space, looking for nourishment.
What a sorry sight — their eyes are white and hollow.
Out of pity, God cuts the angel's head off and throws it into the river, watching the murky water color itself in the deep red of blood.
The encounter leaves a sour taste in God's mouth, so they head back to their residence at a measured pace, already dreading the imminent talk they will need to have with their new angel.
From the comfort of their chair, God watches Ruri stir awake and blink at the blinding light coming from the gap in between the two main doors.
"Why is this place so bright…," Ruri whines.
"You'll get used to it, stop complaining," God tells her, with a sigh.
Ruri turns to face God, with an annoyed look on her face.
"You!" She growls.
"Me," God replies, already resigned to the upcoming rant.
As far as humanity goes, God is aware that many of them are easy to read, and some of them can hide their emotions very well, but Ruri… she is like an open children's book, with how easy she is to read, and on top of that, she has no filter whatsoever.
"What have you done to me?! I don't want to be here in this stupid place with no mirrors! How am I supposed to know if my eyebrows look okay! How do I know —" Ruri stops herself, she can't bear to finish the sentence.
But God knows what she wants to say: how do I know if I am beautiful?
"You are beautiful," God tells her.
Objectively speaking, it's true — Ruri is a beautiful young human with a pleasant appearance.
"Yeah, I know," Ruri replies stiffly.
God raises an eyebrow, "Then you don't need a mirror, do you?"
What God said makes sense and Ruri is very well aware of that — why would she need a mirror if she's confident in her own beauty?
Is it the reassurance of looking at herself in the mirror and knowing that she exists? Is it to check that she's still as beautiful?
Are these reasons too shallow for a dead person? Ruri is not sure.
In death, beauty was lost.
When Ruri was little, she used to think that once people die, they become flowers and trees, or beautiful butterflies, if they're good enough while they're alive. Later on, Ruri grew to believe that there's nothing after death, the worms will feed on the corpse and darkness will reclaim the soul to bring it back to its original state before birth.
Wouldn't it have been more peaceful to return to such slumber? An eternity of self-doubt surely seems bleak.
"What am I?" Ruri finally asks, after silence stretches on for too long.
"An angel. You'll help me monitor humans."
Ruri tilts her head to one side, her golden curls moving with her, "How does that work?"
"Your first task is accompanying me to meet someone."
Such a task doesn't sound too difficult — Ruri supposes she can accommodate her new master.
"Who are we meeting?"
"Your brother," God answers.
"My brother?"
Whoever came up with Purgatory's road infrastructure deserves a demotion — Dai really can't take it any longer.
How long have they been walking for? It certainly feels like forever.
The rose-gold road ahead is endless and desolate; for the first time in his life, Dai misses insects. Yes, even mosquitoes.
From time to time, to fight the boredom, Dai sneaks glances at Lucifer, who has been quiet the whole time.
One of the things that is the most striking about Lucifer is his appearance — he's beautiful, but not in the sinful way one might think the devil to be.
There's a certain kindness within him that is mapped out on his skin like a tattoo, and his voice reverberates in the air as sweet as honey.
Somehow, this train of thought brings forth a question that Dai regrets asking as soon as it leaves his mouth.
"Can angels fuck?"
Lucifer smiles, although not in a shameless way, nor in a shallow way, but in a way that suggests long lost wistfulness.
"I can," is the simple answer Lucifer gives.
"And? You wanna elaborate?"
"What would you like to know?"
Dai shrugs, "I don't know, anyone famous among your conquests?"
"Julius Caesar," Lucifer replies with a serious face.
"Julius Caesar?!" Dai bursts out laughing — so, even angels have a sense of humor, "... at least come up with a better lie."
"You believe I can resuscitate you but you don't believe I slept with Julius Caesar?" Lucifer asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"You for real?"
Lucifer nods earnestly — he looks very innocent, hard to believe that he slept with anyone at all.
"Right, fine, you've got a point there. I'll believe you, how was it?"
"Enlightening. Powerful. I worshiped his body and he confessed his terrors to me," Lucifer answers, smiling as though recalling the past.
"Was he your first?"
To emphasize the misguided innocence of the question, Lucifer grins from ear to ear.
"No, my first was an angel called Ramiel. I remember how beautiful she looked in her white dress, underneath me, lost in pleasure."
"That seems intense," Dai says.
Was it intense? Lucifer can recall her beauty but not any of the feelings associated with it anymore, it was too long ago — he wonders if she still lives.
"It was," Lucifer agrees in the end, to honor the memory of such an exquisite first time, "... and who was your first?"
The question takes Dai by surprise; who did he sleep with for the first time? Did he ask for her name? It's really so hard to remember. The memory is a blur. Not because he was drunk or intoxicated in any way, it's just that Dai didn't pay any attention to who she was. After all, Dai was sure that he would have never seen her again, so why bother?
In spite of being millennia older than Dai, Lucifer still is better at remembering his past.
"My first was a girl called Autumn, nothing special."
A flicker of sadness passes through Lucifer's eyes, all of a sudden making Dai the bad guy in this strange situation.
Ever since he can remember, Lucifer thinks of everyone as special, everyone's a little miracle of blood and flesh, or of starlight, but this doesn't seem to be the case for Dai.
Is it because Dai is so young that nobody has wound their way into his heart yet? Is nobody worth fondness in his life?
"Pretty name," Lucifer comments.
"Yeah," Dai agrees.
Above them, the sky colors itself in a pale pink hue with shades of purple and violet, similar to bruises.
By looking at the palette of colors above them, Lucifer tries to remember God's face, but he's been godless for so long that their face is an indistinct desire.
And yet, Lucifer yearns to be filled up again until he is full to the brim with devoutness.
"I miss God," Lucifer murmurs quietly, afraid that his words might reach God.
"That's quite a paradox," Dai laughs.
This Lucifer is turning out to be nothing like what Dai had imagined.
"The stories, histories, they don't… they don't tell my side of the story. I loved God too much," Lucifer admits.
"Isn't God the one who punished you? Why do you still love them?"
After a moment, Lucifer answers as quietly as earlier.
"I've been missing them for so long that nothing but love has remained."
None of that makes sense to Dai, but he's not someone who judges others for what they feel, so he just shrugs and keeps walking.
Every step forward brings Lucifer closer to the face of God.
According to God, Ruri's brother is on his way here, accompanied by another angel.
However, the news doesn't make Ruri happy — her brother, her handsome, kind brother, has also been taken away by death too early.
Unlike Ruri, Dai was pursuing his dream and he had aspirations, a whole successful life ahead of him. She can't stand the thought of him being sad — it's as though her heart is suddenly growing thorns.
Why is this stupid God so cruel? Why do they cut so many lives short? Do they enjoy playing with their human toys' emotions so much?
Needing to get as far away from God as she can, Ruri runs out of their residence until she finds herself in front of that stinky river once again.
Corpses are all around, on the river banks, floating on the surface, sinking underwater. Everywhere.
What a sorrowful sight, Ruri thinks, as her bare feet step into the white leaves of the weird trees alongside the river; their leaves are white like snow and their flowers red like blood.
If not for the two little angels who are playing by the river banks, one would think that there's nothing alive in this place.
Come to think of it, Ruri is not sure if angels are alive, strictly speaking, or if God is alive.
Perhaps everything that has been happening is a dream, a figment of her imagination; perhaps death is an endless dream, torture with no end.
The two little angels must think her pitiful — they approach her with their tiny, little feet, observing her like one would a rare plant, with their big, round eyes and with the same curiosity that human babies generally display.
"What do you want?" Ruri asks, eyes watery and bitter.
One of the two angels frowns, tilting his head to one side and watching her even more carefully.
"Don't be sad," the angel says after a few seconds of silence.
"I'm not sad," Ruri answers coldly.
"That's a lie," both angels tell her with a reprimanding look.
How funny, Ruri thinks. Even two little angels can tell when she's lying.
The thing is… whenever Ruri closes her eyes, the hands around her throat are still there.
Cold, warm, unforgivable, and unforgettable. Is this the nightmare she's bound to remember for eternity?
The mistake of trusting the wrong person? The thirst for a blood-drenched revenge?
Suddenly, Ruri feels a bone-deep exhaustion and she gives in, agreeing with the angels, "You're right, I'm lying."
Now that she can take a closer look at the two of them, they're so different and yet, their kind aura is the same.
One of them has the air of an angel summoned right out of one of those old Renaissance paintings, with merciful eyes and a forgiving smile. While the other one, who is keeping himself at a safe distance, reminds her of a small rabbit, frightened and insecure.
Hearing Ruri say the truth, the merciful little angel smiles and introduces themselves, "My name is Raphael… and that's my brother A."
Ruri blinks, "A? Just A? That's a strange name."
"He lost the rest of it," Raphael answers with a solemn nod.
The notion of losing a name coaxes a chuckle out of Ruri, what a weird thing to say!
"That's even stranger."
Without taking a step closer, A finally speaks, slow and whispery.
"We are all strange children of the universe."
Ruri, who hasn't been in this peculiar place for long, finds herself wishing that she could bring comfort to this sad angel.
"That, we are," Ruri only says, raising her hand to stroke Raphael's hair but withdrawing it immediately.
As though Raphael could sense Ruri's intention, he smiles and tells her something that she has been longing to hear.
"You are so pretty."
Although there's no mirrors in Heaven, Ruri can see her reflection in the angels' eyes.
"Tell me how beautiful I am," Ruri tells them in a daze.
Raphael takes a seat beside her, twirling a finger around her golden curls, "Yellow dahlias caress your hair, water drops bathe your skin in adoration, and honey illuminates your eyes like stars."
No one has ever complimented Ruri like that, not even those men who wanted to conquer her body for a night of pleasure.
And Ruri remembers her brother's words; the sound of his voice in her head is like a dagger to her dead heart.
"Children are brutally honest when they want to be but they can also be the best liars."
As she searches Raphael's gaze for any signs of deceit, Ruri finds nothing. The angel's eyes are resplendent and honest. Can she believe him just like that?
Ruri doesn't know if angels are good liars, but his smile is so bright that she cannot do anything else but believe him.
Eventually, Ruri makes her way back to God, hand in hand with both of the little angels.
The moment she steps inside God's residence, they don't even raise their gaze to look at her.
"I see you have met A and Raphael," God says.
Before answering, Ruri watches how frightened both angels seem by the presence of their God; with a bow to God and a quick hug to Ruri, they hurry out of the residence.
"I have," Ruri answers, without turning away from the door.
"There's not many of them left. Maybe humans would say that angels are an endangered species," God says casually.
"Because you have decided to kill them," Ruri says defiantly, slowly turning around to direct an icy glare at God.
"Yes," this time God raises their eyes to meet hers.
"How many?" Ruri asks.
"How many have I killed or how many are left?"
Is God serious? They dare ask such a question?
"I don't think you keep count of everyone, everything you murder," Ruri sneers.
It's certainly not the first time for God to be accused of something so terrible, but it's been a long time since someone has held them accountable in such an upfront way.
Such disdain makes them laugh; Samael was right, this soul is amusing — she doesn't care for propriety nor is she afraid to speak her mind.
God rests their chin on the back of their hand, letting a smile pull at their lips which threatens to show their ruthlessness in full.
"I don't," God answers simply.
"Are you going to kill my brother?" Ruri asks.
"Isn't he already dead?"
Ruri steps forward and slams a hand against the desk God is leaning on, "You know what I mean!"
Ah, a mere human really thinks they can make such demands of an entity like them. God slowly removes her hand from their desk by gripping her wrist so tightly that they force her to flinch in pain.
As God watches Ruri stumble backwards, it occurs to them that they don't have an answer.
If her brother is someone who belongs to Lucifer, what will God do? Will God kill both of them or will they spare them?
"I don't know," God answers honestly.
"How does God not know something?" Ruri snaps back, holding her injured wrist to her chest.
"Sometimes even Gods can be helpless," God tells her and they mean it.
Who would be so silly to think that someone has the answer for everything? Not even a God is that powerful.