Chapter 8 — Tuesday for the Dead
Kim Liu woke up at 6:12 a.m.
She always woke up before her alarm.
Curvy. Warm. Alive.
She stretched beneath thin morning light leaking through her curtains. For a moment she just lay there, staring at the ceiling.
Another day.
She showered. Sang softly. Burned her tongue on tea because she never waited for it to cool. She chose her favorite skirt—the one that made her feel confident but not obvious.
Angels existed.
Rankings existed.
Cities had vanished before.
But today?
Today she had work.
And rent.
And maybe, if she was lucky—
Him.
---
The flower shop smelled like lilies and roses and denial.
People still bought bouquets.
They still argued about prices.
Still complained about weather.
Still pretended the sky wasn't sometimes torn open by beings of light and violence.
"Morning, Kim!"
"Morning!"
Small talk. Laughter. Forced normalcy.
The bell above the door chimed.
She froze.
Tall.
Handsome.
Her favorite customer.
He always bought a single white rose. Never said why.
Today he didn't immediately walk to the counter.
He walked to her.
Her hands fumbled with ribbon.
"H-Hi."
He smiled.
"I was wondering…"
Her heart started pounding so hard she thought maybe the angels would hear it.
"…Would you like to get dinner sometime?"
The world stopped.
Out of all possible apocalypses—
This was the one she wasn't prepared for.
"Yes," she blurted.
Too fast.
Too loud.
He laughed softly.
"Friday?"
"Yes."
Again.
He left with no rose this time.
She stared at the door for a full minute after it closed.
Her coworkers teased her.
She didn't care.
For the first time in months—
The future felt longer than a week.
---
That evening she walked home.
Bouncing.
Actually bouncing.
She replayed the conversation in her head.
Friday.
Dinner.
She wondered what she would wear.
Maybe something red—
The sky tore open.
No sound at first.
Just light.
Then—
Impact.
Five shapes descended like falling stars.
Rank 1.
All male.
Wings vast.
Halos burning.
One pale as polished bone.
One with skin red like fresh blood.
The red one—
The aura around him was heavier.
Older.
Stronger.
He didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
The city died in seconds.
Buildings split like paper.
Cars liquefied.
Humans evaporated into ash before screams finished forming.
There was no fight.
No defense.
No hero.
Just cleansing.
Kim hit the ground as shockwaves tore through the street.
Heat swallowed everything.
Glass rained down like crystal knives.
She tried to crawl.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket.
Unknown number.
Probably him.
Her vision blurred.
Around her—
Nothing remained.
No shop.
No streets.
No voices.
Just fire.
She coughed.
Blood filled her mouth.
Above her, one angel glanced down.
Not angry.
Not cruel.
Just indifferent.
Like stepping on an ant without noticing.
Her lungs burned.
Her body felt light.
Friday…
She smiled weakly.
"At least… I got asked out."
The red-skinned angel raised a hand.
And the city became dust.
---
Somewhere far away—
Command centers updated casualty numbers.
Another metropolitan wipe.
Estimated deaths: 3.8 million.
Status: Angelic incursion — Rank 1 squad.
Response time: Too late.
---
And the world kept spinning.
Kazuo trained.
Cynthia fought.
Reina held on.
But elsewhere—
People woke up.
Showered.
Went to work.
Fell in love.
And died.
The angels did not care who the main character was.
The end...