Early dawn, Christmas Day.
<Shall we take a short break?>
Descending onto a quiet spot, the Archangel Who Cast Down the King of Hell suggested calmly.
The wings that had bloomed on his back faded gently.
Madojin landed behind his mentor and lifted his head to the sky.
How far had they come?
He thought absentmindedly. Everything around them was unfamiliar. It seemed they had crossed at least one ocean.
In celebration of Christmas, Madojin and the Archangel Who Cast Down the King of Hell had been scattering blessings across the lands in the form of “gifts.”
It was a form of angelic duty. Countless angels flew across the skies, pouring down holy power onto the earth. The power would settle upon the “unfortunate” ones in each area, enhancing their luck.
<An unfortunate life is a calamity in itself. The unfortunate have no reason to bear the blame for their misfortune.>
That was likely how the Archangel Who Cast Down the King of Hell would have explained it.
<Things like inherited poverty. Or disabilities one is born with.>
These were curses far beyond mere bad luck.
<We are the ones who shoulder their misfortunes for them.>
Madojin didn’t fully understand what it meant to “shoulder misfortune.”
<Would you sit beside me, young lamb?>
Perched on the edge of a cliff and looking down, the Archangel Who Cast Down the King of Hell spoke.
Madojin nodded and walked over, standing next to his mentor to gaze out into the distance.
A small village came into view. They seemed to have reached the Western world. Snow-covered cypress trees rustled in the wind, and the old-fashioned buildings of the town glowed with lights. Though sunrise was still far off, the world no longer darkened so easily.
Santa Claus, after all, was something most creatures naturally grew out of believing in, and fewer and fewer young ones still believed. Still, perhaps somewhere, there were places where socks were hung proudly on Christmas trees.
Madojin stared blankly, deep in thought.
<Young lamb, did you know that Santa Claus is not unlike an angel?>
“I’ve felt that firsthand as an angel.”
Madojin replied with a calm face. Santa Claus didn’t truly exist. Rather, on Christmas, it was angels who scattered blessings in his stead.
<That’s not quite what I meant. Santa Claus is said to originate from Saint Nicholas, a bishop. Inspired by his good deeds, it is believed that nuns began giving gifts on the eve of his feast day.>
“I knew that. But it’s interesting. Today’s Santa is male, and the red suit and fluffy beard don’t feel particularly religious.”
<I think so too. Legends tied to phenomena often diverge from their origins—especially in mythology.>
Madojin nodded.
That was how mythology worked.
A society’s answer to inexplicable misfortune.
If present suffering couldn’t be justified, people would begin to speculate on sins from past lives.
The culture of attributing blame for war probably developed from that kind of native faith.
Thunder reigning from the sky became a deity in the heavens. The fallen warriors of battlefields were honored by painting images of an afterlife.
Humans, compared to constellations, are always steeped in ignorance. But they continuously strive to rationalize their own ignorance.
And perhaps that’s why the constellations decided to sponsor humanity.
“I believe angels are, in essence, symbolic.”
Madojin turned to the Archangel Who Cast Down the King of Hell.
<Symbolic?>
The mentor asked.
“Yes. In that sense, they’re not so different from demons. Angels represent good, demons represent evil. But in the end, they’re just expressions of dual values—good and evil themselves are secondary.”
<True. In recent human works, angels are often portrayed as evil, and demons as good.>
The Archangel Who Cast Down the King of Hell chuckled.
<But that’s…>
“It’s not very important, I suppose.”
Madojin finished for him, and the archangel nodded.
<Creatures couldn’t see us before. They couldn’t see demons either. But after the Gates opened, everything changed. Humanity realized demons were real, and the demonkin became a tangible threat.>
As demonkin emerged and constellations revealed themselves, only angels remained active behind the scenes.<Because some truths must remain unproven in this world.>
The Archangel Who Cast Down the King of Hell said.
<Curiosity is what propels creatures forward.>
That had always been the case in ages dominated by myth.
Every era, every country, every region had its own direction of faith, but all had one thing in common: civilization developed through religion.
Greece, Rome, and even modern humanity had advanced thanks to the emergence of constellations.
“I think so too.”
Madojin agreed without hesitation.
“But I do have a question.”
<Go ahead.>
“People seem to believe the world is at peace now… but I don’t think that’s true.”
Was peace merely a rationalization that followed the end of war?
That’s what Madojin wondered.
When a long war ends, a sense of stability naturally follows. The word “peace” has always been used that way. The Gates were all closed, but the unfortunate still remained.
“So I wonder…”
He looked to the Archangel Who Cast Down the King of Hell.
“…Are there still dangers lurking in this world?”
Madojin asked in a hushed voice.
<Hmm…>
The archangel fell into thought, then stood up.
<You’re right, young lamb.>
He looked at Madojin with a gentle smile.
<True peace only exists beyond this world. As long as living beings breathe, the world can never be at peace.>
“You seem… afraid of something.”
<You’re right again. I’ve always feared this world. Unlike Heaven, this place is filled with death, pain, and suffering.>
“Then isn’t there no reason to keep this world going?”
<That’s not something within my power.>
Creation belongs to the “Savior Who Is One and All”…
Watching his mentor mutter those words, Madojin smiled faintly.
“I think I finally understand why… the Star Hated by All calls you middle management.”
<I won’t deny it. Unlike that lazy brother of mine, I’m actually diligent.>
With a laugh, the Archangel Who Cast Down the King of Hell reached out to Madojin.
<You’ve grown sharp. I can see it in the way you view the world.>
“All thanks to your gifted education,”
he murmured with a chuckle.
<To commemorate that… I’ll give you a Christmas present.>
“…A present?”
Madojin tilted his head.
Sssss—
Light spread from the archangel’s hand.
And from within that light… a sword emerged.
A golden longsword adorned with antique engravings.
<I once used this weapon. It was forged from the First Flame.>
The Archangel Who Cast Down the King of Hell spoke calmly.
<I’ve grown tired of wielding weapons. Now I pass it to you.>
Madojin accepted the sword from him.
As he did, it dissolved into rays of light and seeped into Madojin’s body.
“Does this mean… I’ll have reason to use it?”
<Not necessarily.>
The archangel said firmly.
<Whether or not you draw a weapon is your choice. I simply presented the option. You might use it selfishly like your ancestor… Enoch. But an angel must not be powerless. You need a strength that matches your identity.>
He had a point.
Angels weren’t meant to be helpless.
Madojin nodded slowly and looked up at the night sky.
The darkness was so thick that not a single star could be seen—yet countless angels were passing through.
What were they protecting, to work so tirelessly?
That thought struck him out of nowhere.
The day of the fan sign event.
“So it’s today…”
Leaning against the passenger seat, I thought quietly.
It was my first time facing fans directly and speaking with them, so I was a bit nervous.
It wasn’t just me—everyone seemed on edge. Well, except for Han Iro and Jeong Noeul.
We’d greeted fans before during schedules, but that was just quick hellos. Anyone could manage that.
But sitting at a table and actually having a conversation—that was a different story.
“What should I talk about…”
I’d racked my brain over it, but conversations don’t always flow just because one person tries hard.
“Eunyul.”
As I was lost in thought, Madojin spoke from the back seat.
“…Yes?”
I turned to him.
“I looked up some information about fan sign events, and something caught my attention.”
“What is it?”
“…Why do they all wear so many accessories?”
“Ah…”
Because they’re supposed to, that’s why.
Madojin had probably seen pictures of idols wearing cute headbands or flashy accessories.
“Dojin, just in case…”
I leaned in and whispered.
“If you’re unsure what to do—just do what the fans ask.”
Wait, maybe that’s too much.
“I mean… not everything they ask for…”
How do I explain this?
“Just don’t do anything I’d scold you for later.”
Would he get that?
“…Do you mean things like handing out your phone number?”
“Absolutely not.”
I said firmly.
Madojin gave a faint smile.
“I already knew that much.”
Look at him, learning how to tease people now.
A remarkable improvement, really.
“But one more thing…”
His voice lowered.
“There’s something I really want to ask.”
“What is it?”
“What if, during the fan sign…”
He hesitated.
“…someone attacks us?”
What?
“No way that’d happen…”
I let out a dry laugh.
“But isn’t the art hall a pretty ideal place for a terrorist attack?”
“You mean like… someone throwing eggs or water bottles?”
He shook his head.
“I mean an actual attack.”
“Haa…”
“In that case, I’ll protect everyone.”
This guy… I thought he was becoming more human, but it felt like he was growing less human by the day.
Little Pink Starfish 
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