In a deserted, rundown alleyway, a small hooded figure sprinted through the darkness. Each step struck shallow puddles left behind by the rain, sending faint splashes echoing against the narrow walls.
"Hah… hff… hah…"
The figure's breath came out in ragged gasps as they ran.
"I have to get back home—quickly," the figure gasped, his boyish voice strained with urgency.
The boy seemed to be holding something tightly against himself, as if trying to protect it.
Not long after, an opening revealed itself along the alley wall. He veered toward it without hesitation and went inside.
Beyond the wall lay a shabby-looking motel. It appeared abandoned, as though no one had lived there for years.
The moment he saw it, the boy bolted for the stairs, racing past the first floor, then the second, until he reached the third. He moved through the building as if he had been here many times before.
He took the last step and ran the length of the corridor, not stopping until he reached the door at its farthest end—Room 309.
The boy frantically searched his pockets. "Come on… where is it?" he muttered under his breath.
"Ah—found it."
He drew out a small key.
He slid the key into the doorknob, and the door finally opened.
"I'm finally home!" he exclaimed, relief flooding his voice as he stepped inside.
He shut the door behind him, pulled back the hood that had shielded him from the rain, and let it drop to the floor.
At last, he placed the item that he had been holding onto the table—it was a simple paper bag.
He finally sat down and reached into the paper bag. The moment his fingers brushed the contents, a small groan escaped his lips.
"Aw… the burger and fries are all soaked."
As the boy ate his soggy meal, he couldn't help but think, How did things end up like this? He wondered what had led him to such circumstances.
After finishing his meal, he pushed the food wrapper aside and headed to bed. Slowly, the boy closed his eyes and drifted into sleep.
"Mael… Mael!" a voice called urgently.
"Wake up!"
Dazed and drained of energy, Mael stirred sluggishly. "Huh… what? Where am I?"
"Did you really fall unconscious?" the man asked.
Mael turned his gaze toward the voice. "Noel? Is that you?"
Standing before him was a tall man. His long, snow-white hair fell in silky waves, and his golden eyes glowed with an otherworldly light. Fair-skinned and radiant, he bore the image of an angel—and the magnificent pair of white wings unfurling from his back left no doubt of it.
"Did you hit your head too hard?" Noel asked, a teasing smile on his face. "Come on, stand up already."
With that, Mael pushed himself up from the tree he had been sitting under, coming to stand eye to eye with him.
"Alright, let's go! The council wants to have a word with you," Noel said, spinning playfully as he stepped forward.
Noel had moved several paces ahead, leaving Mael trailing behind. Deep in thought, Mael questioned himself: Was that a dream? Everything felt so real… as if I were actually in the mortal realm.
Suddenly, Mael clutched his chest as a searing heat blossomed within his body. The world around him began to darken, shadows creeping in from the edges of his vision.
"Mael!" a voice rang through the darkness. But it wasn't Noel who called this time.
Still in agony, Mael lifted his gaze to see who had called him. The world around him had shifted—what had once been a serene garden was now transformed into a grand courtroom.
The voice rang out, reverberating through the chamber. "By decree of the Supreme Council, your title as Archangel is hereby revoked!"
A gasp erupted throughout the courtroom, as if everyone present found the council's verdict utterly ludicrous.
"Supreme Council," a voice rang out beside him. "Mael may have been injured during the war, but he is still more than capable of fighting."
Mael turned to see Noel, his expression earnest and unwavering, standing in his defense.
The first council member's voice cut through the chamber. "In his current state, he is far too much of a liability."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the other council members, their expressions confirming his verdict.
The central council member raised his gavel and slammed it down. The deafening clap reverberated through the courtroom, and every voice fell silent.
"This decision is final! By the council's decree, you shall spend your remaining days in the mortal realm," the council intoned, their voice heavy with unwavering authority.
Noel demanded, his tone sharp with disbelief. "What do you mean by 'remaining days'!?"
Noel's question hung in the air, logical to all who were present in the courtroom. Angels were known to live for millennia—if a human could reach eighty years, an angel might live a thousand times longer. Archangels like Noel and Mael, however, were effectively immortal, even by angelic standards.
"Indeed, he shall spend his remaining days in the mortal realm."
The council members raised their hands in unison, and a searing light erupted from them, striking down upon the kneeling Mael.
Gasps filled the chamber once more. The moment the light surrounded Mael, his form began to diminish, shrinking before everyone's eyes. Then, a golden chain materialized around his neck, glowing faintly as it settled into place.
"Ahh—!" Mael yelped, springing upright in bed. Glancing at his hands, he saw the small, delicate hands of a child. That dream… again, he told himself.
"SHUT UP, YOU NOISY BRAT!" came an angry roar from the next room, shaking the thin walls.
Mael swung his legs off the bed and shuffled to the curtains. As he drew them aside, the morning sunlight poured in, so bright that he squinted instinctively, his eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden glare.
What… morning already? he wondered, stretching as he walked toward the bathroom. Slowly, he began undressing, readying himself for a shower.
Just before entering the shower, Mael froze, his eyes locking onto his reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Mael stared at his reflection. Although it's been almost two months now since I came to the mortal realm, I still haven't gotten used to seeing myself like this, he thought.
Then, a fierce, burning rage ignited within Mael as his fingers lingered over the long scar etched diagonally across his torso. If not for this scar… I would still be among my brethren above, he muttered, cursing the mark that bound him to the mortal realm.
"Nothing I can do now…" he muttered, shaking his head before moving to the shower.
Several minutes passed, and the street outside began to fill with pedestrians as the day's workers started heading to their jobs.
Click. Mael's door unlocked.
Dressed in clothes that better suited his childlike form—a yellow T-shirt and blue shorts—he stepped out of his room, adjusting to the world outside.
Mael turned his head to the right and spotted someone. "Oh! Hey, cleaning lady! I'll leave my room open for you to clean," he called out, waving goodbye as he hurried down the stairs.
While Mael hurried down the stairs, a young female voice rang out behind him. "Careful, young boy! You might fall," she warned, her concern unmistakable.
Mael paid her no heed and kept running. By the time he reached the first floor, he accidentally collided with someone, sending a flurry of papers scattering in all directions.
From the floor, Mael heard a sharp voice cry out, "You damn brat!" An elderly woman had fallen too, sending not only the papers but herself sprawling onto the ground.
"Uh—Mrs. Joann, I'm so sorry," Mael mumbled, his eyes dropping to the floor.
Frantically, Mael scooped up the fallen papers, working quickly to collect them before Joann could stand again.
While straightening herself and still before she could shake the dirt clinging to her clothes, she saw a tiny hand presenting all her scattered documents, perfectly organized before her.
Wait… How did he pick them up so quickly? Does he have some kind of speed magic? Joann wondered, clearly impressed by the swift display.
But the praise quickly faded, replaced by pure fury. "Mael! How many times do I have to tell you—NO RUNNING!"
Mael played the part of a remorseful child. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Joann," he said, his tone so sweet it could melt the heart of any adult.
As if Mael's charade had worked, her anger seemed to soften. A small hmph escaped her as she exhaled. "Your rent is due in a few days—make sure you have all the money," she added, walking toward her office on the first floor. "I took pity on you last month; this month, you'd better pay on time and full." The door closed firmly behind her.
Mael let out a small sigh. Time to look for a job, he muttered to himself.
With a determined breath, Mael set off—the hunt for a job had begun for today…
In the bustling market, an old man struggled with several bags of groceries when a small voice called out, "Excuse me, mister! Would you like me to help carry these back to the shop?"
"Oh! It's you again, boy," the old man chuckled in recognition. "Sure, I won't say no to a little help."
"Mister," the boy said, putting on an exaggerated pout, "this'll cost you, you know." He pointed playfully at the old man as he spoke.
"Of course," the old man said with a laugh. "I'm only teasing you."
"Alright, let's get moving!" the boy said cheerfully, gathering the remaining groceries off the floor before the two of them continued on their way.
After several minutes of walking, Mael and the old man finally arrived at their destination.
The place was already packed with customers. It was a tea shop owned by the old man, its appearance standing out from the surrounding buildings. While the neighboring structures were more modern and made of brick and concrete, the shop retained a warm, traditional charm, its exterior adorned with aged wooden fittings.
"Phew! We're finally here," the old man chuckled, trying to sound lively despite his fatigue, as if hoping to lighten the boy's mood.
Playing along, Mael wiped his arm across his forehead in an exaggerated gesture, pretending to be tired despite feeling perfectly fine.
"Here, kid," the old man said, pressing something into Mael's palm. "For your trouble."
Mael opened his hand, revealing a single silver coin glinting softly in the center of his palm.
A rush of surprise and delight filled Mael. "Woah, mister—this is way more than usual!" he exclaimed, looking up at the old man. "What's gotten into you all of a sudden?"
"Well now, young boy," the old man said with a gentle chuckle, patting his hand on Mael's head. "Business has been good lately, so I thought I'd give you a little extra this time."
Mael looked up, genuinely curious. "Mister… how many silver coins do I need to trade for one gold coin?"
"About ten silver coins." the old man replied.
So I still need forty-nine more silver coins, Mael thought, a sudden heavy feeling settled in his chest as the reality of his situation sank in.
Mael hurriedly asked the old man, "Mister, do you know any job that could pay me five gold coins in just one day?" His voice carried the innocent hope of someone who didn't yet grasp how impossible that sounded.
The old man stared at him in disbelief before letting out a startled, "Whoa!" He shook his head gently. "I'm sorry, kid, but I don't think there's any job that pays even a single gold coin a day. I hate to say it, but that's just how it is."
A hint of regret crossed his face as he spoke, knowing he had just crushed the boy's hopeful expectations.
"Well then… I suppose I'll be going now," Mael murmured, the dread clear in his voice.
"Wait—hold on, kid!" the old man called out, trying to get his attention.
"Yes—hold on, kid!" another voice called out, this time from one of the seated men.
Mael turned toward the unfamiliar voice. The man was dressed in a blue suit, his head topped with a matching top hat. His face was hidden behind a newspaper, held high enough to conceal his features, while thin wisps of smoke drifted up from behind it, as if he were smoking a cigarette.
"Ya want to make a quick buck?" the man asked, his voice muffled as if something were clenched between his teeth.
"Sure…" Mael said hesitantly, unsure of what he was getting himself into.
"Come closer," the man in the suit said, motioning him forward with a slow, deliberate wave of his hand.
As Mael stepped closer, the seated man reached inside his suit. "Here," he said, pulling out a tightly wrapped package and handing it over. It was about the size of a brick, sealed thickly in black tape.
"There's an address on the back of the package," the man said quietly. "Take it there for me."
The old man frowned, worry showed across his face. "Son, I don't think you should involve yourself in something like that."
Mael hesitated for a moment when the seated man spoke again. "You needed five gold coins, right?"
Before Mael could respond, the man tossed a small pouch toward him. "Here—take ten," he said casually. "Now go on, get moving."
And just like that, Mael found himself accepting the mysterious man's offer…