There was a hint of antiseptic and aged wood about the room, a quiet space suffused with pain and an underlying fear.
Akira lay on Yura's bed, his limbs swathed in white bandages that strained over his ribs and stomach as if trying to keep him intact. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths as if even that act took will. His defiant face, normally etched with a sharp jaw and determined features, looked pale and worn, as if etched by his tiredness.
Yura sat alongside Akira, her hands clasped tightly together in her lap. She had been still for so long now. But she did not take her eyes away from Akira's face, not even for a tick's length of time, as if she feared that he might disappear the instant she looked away. Anxiety radiated through every part of her tense stance, her compressed lips, and irregular breathing.
I went into the room quietly.
Before my arrival could make its presence known through chaos, as it so often did, my eye was caught by a figure standing near the door.
Yuna
She stood frozen, almost statue-like, her white hair falling around her like spilled moonlight. The radiance emanating from her was diminished, subdued—nothing like she once was. Our eyes locked instantly, sharp and knowing.
"So," she said, her voice calm but full of accusation, "where were you all this time?"
I smiled—slow, lazy, un
'I am Lucifer,' I said casually, as if announcing a trivial piece of information. 'I am not like other fallen angels, who are attached to their humans from morning till night.'
'Oh, so he thinks he can just waltz into the
Yuna drew nearer. The space between us constricted.
"You know very well," she said firmly, "that it is contrary to the laws of fallen angels. You must remain with your human master until his death."
A laugh escaped me—a low, amused, cruel laugh.
"Oh?" I mocked. "And you are lecturing me on rules?"
My laughter rang out louder and clearer, with intention.
"You saved Yura," I continued, my eyes narrowing, "and in return, you lost your invisibility. Now you are hiding in this place as a ghost who holds on to a memory."
I leaned in closer, my voice falling lower, darker, more resonant with truth.
"It's been more than ten years, Yuna. Ten years of living side by side with Yura—and you didn't kill her. Now you've lost your immortality as well. Don't talk about laws to me Yuna."
For an instant, I believed that I could have spoken these words only to Yuna.
I was wrong.
The chair scraped lightly against the floor.
Yura stood up.
She moved towards me, her steps steady despite the trembling in her eyes. There was no fear in her voice, just conviction.
"Lucifer," she continued quietly, "you may not know this… but from the day I was born, I've been able to see all of the fallen angels."
I froze.
"Every shadow. Every presence," she went on. "But Yuna—Yuna was the only one who chose to stay."
She turned to Yuna, and her expression softened into something painfully tender. She reached up and slid her fingers into Yuna's white hair as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
"She's not my servant," Yura said, meeting my eyes direct.
"She's my guardian. And my best friend."
The room fell silent.
But then I looked away and towards Akira with a smile composed of mockery and edges.
"Akira and I are best friends too," I added sweetly. "Right, my darling Akira?"
Shut up !
His voice was hoarse, frustrated, seething with anger.
Before anyone could prevent him, Akira propelled himself upward and pulled the bandages off his body in a fury of rage and desperation. The cloth slid to the floor like a skin cast off, and wounds which hadn't yet healed appeared—angry, open, and defiant.
"Akira!"
Yura ran to him, panic laced with desperation in her voice.
"Aki, you can't heal yet. Please, Aki
He carefully removed her hands and pushed them away. His strength betrayed him, but his determination never wavered.
"I'm fine," he whispered, his voice trembling but sure.
"I have just five years remaining in my lifetime."
These words struck like thunder.
"And I can't sit idle," he said. "I have to fix this world,"
Yuna turned to look at him, her face veiled by the sorrow of the centuries.
"It's not your duty," she said softly. "This world will never be fixed as long as humans exist as they are. You'll die someday, Akira—and the world will go on exactly the same."
Akira smiled.
It was no happy smile.
It is the smile of a person who has known horror, and who knows how pain look and felt like.
"I don't want another innocent soul to see what I saw," he whispered.
"Even if I die. my fear will remain in humanity."
Lifting his eyes, he burned with intention.
"And that fear will cause them to hesitate a hundred times before committing injustice against the innocent."
The room was heavier after that. Not with despair, but with resolve. Like the peace preceding a storm intended to turn everything upside down.