For the next few days, I quietly followed her everywhere. It was during this time that I learned her name: Merry. However, the name didn't quite fit her personality. While most angel girls of her age in Heaven were lively and carefree, seemingly lost in the joy of life, Merry was different. She was calm and hardworking, and I couldn't help but wonder what motivated her so deeply.
I wanted to know everything about her. In a harsh angelic society that often felt fickle and superficial, Merry stood out as genuine and pure. I didn't even realize when my initial distrust of her began to shift into praise. The more I observed her, the more I appreciated the beauty of her spirit, and I found myself increasingly drawn to her world.
I hadn't entered her office before; that place was intimidating. The leader of the archangels—Michael, along with other powerful archangels like Gabriel, Uriel, Raphael, Metatron, Haniel, and Jophiel—all came to that place for work periodically. If they caught even a glimpse of my presence, my freedom would end right then and there. They wouldn't kill me, but they would torture me endlessly. I had no desire to experience that.
But one day, I didn't sense any powerful presence in her office. I debated with myself about whether to go near or not. At last, I approached her window.
How did I find her in that huge place? It was simple: I could feel her presence. Even though I didn't have the courage to step into her office before, I knew she was there, working diligently behind those walls. The atmosphere was filled with the hum of conversations and the shuffle of feet, but amidst it all, I could sense her.
Through the window, I could see her silhouette, illuminated by the soft glow of her desk lamp. She was hunched over her papers, writing diligently.
It was clear she was immersed in her work, and I admired her dedication from a distance. I could see the way she occasionally paused to think, tapping her pen against her chin, lost in thought.
I leaned against the cool wall, hidden in the shadows, captivated by the way she worked and when she engaged with her colleagues. Every interaction she had was a delicate balance of professionalism and warmth.
She listened intently, her eyes sparkling with genuine interest, and when she spoke, her words flowed like honey—sweet and soothing. I could see the respect she commanded, not just from her juniors but from everyone around her.
It was a power I had never understood, one that seemed to come so naturally to her, a stark contrast to the cold, calculating world I inhabited. In hell, power always reigns. My soldiers respect me because I'm Satan's only son, because of my power. They are actually afraid of me.
I had always been fond of chaos, relishing the thrill of the unpredictable, yet here she was, a beacon of order and light, and I found myself inexplicably attracted to her.
As she focused on her work, her brow furrowed in concentration, I felt a pang of something I hadn't experienced in eons—admiration. She was brilliant, and I found myself wishing I could be part of her world, even if only for a moment.
The way she completed her work with poise and determination was respectable. I could almost feel the positive energy radiating from her, a force that drew me in, even as I knew I should remain distant.
But there was something more, a flicker of curiosity that ignited within me. What lay beneath that serene exterior? What emotions actually danced behind those bright eyes? I longed to know her, to peel back the layers and discover the essence of who she truly was. Yet, I remained a specter, a demon lurking in the shadows, bound by the rules of my existence.
As the day wore on, I felt a strange sense of longing. I was a creature of darkness, yet here I was, enchanted by a light so pure it threatened to consume me. I knew I should turn away and retreat into the depths of my own realm, but the pull was too strong. I wanted to step into her world, to share in her laughter, and to feel the warmth of her smile directed at me.
But for now, I remained hidden, a silent observer caught in the web of my own fascination.
After her workday came to an end, she flew back to her home, a solitary figure in a lonely house. The thought of her being alone in that house stirred my imagination, and I couldn't help but scold myself. "Stop it, Lucifer," I muttered under my breath.
"She's just a puny angel, and not even that pretty. What on earth are you thinking?" I facepalmed in frustration, trying to shake off the absurdity of my thoughts.
I dared not enter her house; instead, I lingered outside, hidden in the shadows. Suddenly, I spotted her walking toward the jungle where her treehouse was located.
Shit, she was going to meet me, and I had to be there now! A surge of urgency propelled me to fly toward the treehouse, determined to reach it before she did.
I was far more powerful than she was, and I easily arrived first. To maintain my ruse, I pretended to be asleep on the bed, tucked beneath a thin quilt.
"Ahh, he's sleeping," she murmured softly. "He never talks about his past. What could have happened to turn him into a fallen angel?" she lamented.
"How naive you are, Merry!" I thought bitterly. "If any unscrupulous creature were here instead of me, how could you possibly protect yourself?" Just the thought of it drives me mad.
As she approached, I felt her gentle hands begin to examine my body. In a moment of panic, I realized I had forgotten to disguise my wounds. "Wow, your wounds are healing much faster than before. You're almost back to normal," she said, her voice filled with concern. Sure enough, she caught it.
"Should I wake him up? No, I'm too tired for that today. Let him sleep. Tomorrow, I'll definitely hear about his experiences," she muttered before leaving. I trailed after her, trying to remain unnoticed. I couldn't relax without her presence; I wanted to follow her everywhere, every moment.
Merry, with her brilliance and grace, had unwittingly enthralled my heart, and I was left to ponder the impossible—could a demon ever truly belong in the light?