Rose Garden: Chapter 08

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Warren was flustered. He’d gotten caught up in a long conversation with the master at the workshop and ended up coming home far later than planned. So, as soon as he cleared the northern path where he had placed protective wards he transformed into his demon form and soared through the dusky sky.

It was many times faster than walking, and he reached the front door in no time. There, he reverted to his human form and tidied his appearance. Kyle already knew what he looked like as a demon, so there was no real need to change. And yet he cast the spell anyway because Kyle loathed the demon form more than anything.

Warren told himself that appearances were a foolish concern, that what truly mattered was one’s heart. But that was just sophistry. The truth was, without transforming, he could never live in the human world. And Kyle would only grow to hate him more.

There were rare exceptions like his grandparents and Snair who had accepted him just as he was. But Warren knew all too well how unusual that was. In the past hundred years, Snair was the only one who had drawn near without fear or disgust upon seeing his true form.

Inside the house, the air had begun to grow heavy. The monsters were already approaching, close enough to surround the outside. Worried that Kyle might be crying in fear, Warren rushed to open the living room door.

Kyle was sitting in a chair, chewing something at the corner of his mouth. Warren froze in surprise when he realized what it was: the cookies he had baked yesterday for Snair. Kyle was eating something other than flowers, his cookies, no less. When Kyle turned around and noticed him, he hastily wiped the sugar-dusted fingers on the hem of his tunic and looked down, clearly embarrassed.

“I made those for Snair, but you’re welcome to have them.”

He said it gently, trying to ease the tension. But instead, it seemed to wound Kyle’s pride. With a glare and an angry motion, Kyle stood and stormed out of the room. Yet not long after, he returned looking pale. Perhaps he’d run into one of the monsters in the hallway. He slumped heavily into the rocking chair and closed his eyes, still visibly annoyed.

Warren gave a wry smile and headed into the adjoining kitchen, where he began to rinse a bouquet of roses. He trimmed the stems and let them soak up plenty of water, Kyle preferred them fresh. Once the blooms had regained their color, he drained them, arranged them neatly on a white plate, and placed it softly on the table in front of the angel.

With a sulky, petulant expression, Kyle reached out and touched the flowers. They withered instantly to a dull brown, drained of their energy. Warren swiftly removed the plate, Kyle disliked having dead flowers near him.

After Kyle’s “meal,” Warren retreated to the kitchen corner, where he offered a short prayer before eating a simple supper of bread and water. Then he returned to the living room and sat in the chair opposite the rocking one.

It was the usual evening scene. Kyle was flipping through a poetry collection but seemed fidgety, unable to settle. Was he still embarrassed about being caught with the cookie?

“Kyle.”

It had been a while since he’d said his name aloud. Golden hair swayed as Kyle turned to glare at him with emerald eyes.

“If you want more cookies, I could bake you some.”

He had only wanted to offer something Kyle might enjoy, but the angel’s face immediately drained of color.

“You know full well that I can only eat rose petals.”

Kyle snapped the poetry book shut on his lap.

“Ugh, how detestable. No matter how much I hate you, I have no freedom to leave.”

That voice less resignation than outright despair Warren pretended not to hear. Instead, he took out the wood carving he hadn’t finished at the workshop and resumed working. A silent form of escape from reality, from Kyle.

He pressed a sharp carving tool into a small wooden plate. Pushing too hard, the blade slipped and nicked his finger. As blood welled up and he instinctively brought it to his lips, a prickling pain bloomed in his chest a quiet, inexplicable ache.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Golden hair swayed lightly in his arms. Perhaps too tired to return to his own bed, Kyle had drifted off to sleep. In the soft glow of the lamp, his milky-white skin shimmered with a delicate sheen. Twice a week, this body was entrusted to Warren’s hands. He held him gently, careful not to disturb that beautiful sleeping face.

The first time they met, Kyle had made roses bloom over his grandparents’ grave. Even if that had been a mere whim, the power that had saved Warren in that moment had been real.

Buoyed by that shared kindness, he had dared to believe again believe that not everything in the world was cruel, that somewhere out there, someone might understand him.

That’s why, even though he was forced to live in a den of monsters, he never discarded his sense of righteousness. As his magical power swelled by the day, he learned to control it rather than be consumed by it. The stronger he became, the less the monsters frightened him because he had realized he could win, if he truly tried.

He’d lost his place in the human world and wandered the monster-infested forests, always searching for somewhere he could belong. The monsters in the forest didn’t threaten him, but they didn’t welcome him either. At their core, monsters were born from evil. Whenever a foolish human wandered into the forest and was devoured, a crushing, indescribable emptiness would squeeze his chest. And yet, he never returned to the human world. Though he could disguise himself with magic and blend in, the image that rose unbidden in his mind was always the same, his grandparents, murdered in agony. He could understand humans intellectually, but forgiveness was something else entirely. The people who persecuted him and took innocent lives he could never forgive them.

It was during that time he caught wind of a rumor: that Heaven had begun accepting those who passed an entrance exam, regardless of their race. For someone with nowhere left to go, it sounded like a dream. A place that belonged to neither monsters nor humans maybe there, he could finally find a place to call his own. He thought back to the angel with golden hair and green eyes. If he went to Heaven, surely he’d see that beautiful angel again the one who had made roses bloom over his grandparents’ grave, the merciful, kind angel who, he believed, would surely understand him.

From then on, he threw himself into the scriptures. Even if his powers were considered “evil,” he worked hard to use them in the right way. He poured his soul into the exams. He passed the first round, then the second, and finally reached the final stage. But in the final trial the test of fate he failed, all because of a scheme laid by the very angel who had once saved him.

Devastated, he returned to the Forest of Oliva. And he was consumed by questions. Why would a being so gentle and merciful go out of their way to sabotage him? With no answers, half a year passed… until, by pure chance, he met the angel with golden hair and green eyes once more.

He never ventured outside the forest, but that day, he’d been craving the fruit of the Isli tree and had gone as far as the grove near the village. On the way back, he climbed a massive tree to eat and there, sprawled across the trunk, was the angel. The scene looked like something straight out of a religious painting. Bathed in soft sunlight filtering through the leaves, the angel dozed peacefully, and Warren held his breath, watching in silence.

He hadn’t meant to hurt him. He just wanted to know why the angel had deceived him. But the moment he heard the answer, he wished he’d never asked. If he hadn’t, the angel could have remained a perfect ideal in his heart forever.

Upon waking, the angel rebuked his demonic form, condemned his past, and rejected every part of him. With those same lips that had once given him the strength to survive, he was cast into hell all over again.

Crushed by despair and consumed by rage, Warren tore off the angel’s wings and devoured them. He hadn’t meant to kill. He’d simply thought: let him crawl on the ground for the rest of his life like a butterfly with its wings ripped off.

But Warren hadn’t known that an angel stripped of his power would meet with such a wretched fate that he would be reduced to nothing more than prey for monsters. No matter how deep his hatred, it wasn’t a sin that should have been paid for with death.

Once Kyle had lost his wings, he had become a fragile creature Warren could no longer bring himself to abandon. Deprived of his power, Kyle was hunted day and night by monsters drawn to the taste of angelic flesh. So Warren kept him close, always by his side, and protected him. What had begun as an act of guilt became a duty. The beautiful being he had once loathed gradually transformed into someone he loved. And in that transformation, Warren finally found his reason for living in this world.

He placed a soft kiss on Kyle’s delicate cheek. Even as regret simmered regret for turning Kyle into a pitiful soul who could no longer return to Heaven and cowered in fear of monsters the warmth trembling in his arms was something he could never let go. Unlike humans with fleeting lifespans, if he protected this angel with care, Kyle could stay by his side forever. For a lifetime, he would be his.

“Kyle…”

Should he be content just to be near him? Is it selfish to hope for something more in return for his feelings to be answered in kind, the more he cherished, the more he loved? Would Kyle never forgive the demon who had made it impossible for him to return to Heaven?

“Kyle…”

He whispered again, but no answer came. Only the faint tremble of golden lashes, the eyelids still gently shut. A flicker of loneliness stirred in his chest. Hoping to soothe even a little of that aching heart, he pulled the warmth nestled against him even closer.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The snowstorm that had raged since yesterday came to a sudden halt. The sky was a vivid blue, as if someone had traced it with watercolor paint. Snair stood in the doorway, bundled head to toe in a deep green coat, knit gloves, a hat, scarf, and deerskin boots completely outfitted for the cold.

“Oh? Heading out, are you?”

Snair nimbly sidestepped the grandmother, who had just brought in firewood from the shed.

“I’m going to play at Warren’s place.”

“Again?”

She dropped the firewood with a thud beside the hearth and gave a weary sigh, thumping her lower back lightly with a fist.

“You really are attached to that man, aren’t you. I’m not saying it’s bad to be on good terms with someone, but playing around every single day… really now. Children are meant to help their elders. Before you go running off to Warren’s ”

But before she could finish her sentence, Snair had already bolted outside. When he glanced back, his grandmother was leaning out an open window, raising her right hand high in frustration.

“Tomorrow you’re helping around the house! And be back before dinner!”

“Okay!”

Snair shouted back, then dashed across the snow. The vast white landscape made everything feel like another world and that alone was enough to fill him with delight. As he left the village path, marked by the overlapping tracks of people and animals, and entered the northern path, the footprints became singular. They had to be Warren’s on his way into town for work. Large, wide-set tracks. Snair bounced along, following them happily.

Before long, the wind picked up. Gusts rushed in from the hill, whipping up the snow and pelting his cheeks. It was so cold that Snair broke into a full sprint.

“Hello!”

He burst through the door without knocking, into a house that was surprisingly warm. As Snair peeled off his snow-damp gloves and hat, Kyle appeared from the back, draped in a white shawl.

“It was snowing, so I thought you might not come today.”

“But it’s boring staying home.”

Kyle chuckled softly and beckoned with a small wave.

“Come in. There’s a fire in the hearth. You should dry your wet clothes.”

Led by the invitation, Snair stepped into the living room. He held his pink, frozen fingertips up to the flames. Once they were warm, he pulled the table closer to the hearth and hung his coat and gloves on the edge to dry. When he looked to his usual chair, he found a fluffy fur cushion laid out.

“Whoa, what’s this?”

Too taken by the soft texture, Snair forgot to even sit down.

“The demon made it last night. It’s been cold lately. There’s one on my chair too.”

“It’s so soft, it feels like a waste to sit on it.”

Kyle narrowed his eyes playfully.

“Then shall I take it instead?”

“No way!”

Kyle laughed aloud. Realizing he’d been teased, Snair pouted and glanced down.

“Come to think of it, I think he also made cookies.”

Muttering, Kyle disappeared into the kitchen. He returned moments later, holding a plate neatly stacked with cookies. “Just as I thought.”

“Yay!”

Snair plopped down onto the fur cushion and immediately reached for a cookie.

“Is it good?”

“It’s really good!”

“I see. Then maybe I’ll have one too.”

Kyle took one for himself. He usually didn’t eat human food—he said it never filled him up—so it was unusual. Snair, curious, bit into his again and noticed something different.

“There’s something inside this cookie.”

Kyle broke his in half and murmured, “Ah, you’re right.”

“It’s kind of brown and sweet. Like the candied stuff my grandma makes…”

As he chewed and licked the sweet filling, Snair suddenly realized.

“Hey, I think this might be rose petals.”

Kyle, looking startled, brought the brown morsel to his lips.

“You’re right… it is rose petals.”

“Warren made them so they’d be tasty even for you, Kyle.”

When Kyle smiled faintly, for some reason his expression turned troubled, and he cast his eyes downward. In the end, he only ate a single cookie from the plate in his hand, leaving the rest to end up in Snair’s stomach. Glancing outside with a full belly, Snair saw snow drifting gently down once more.

“It’s okay for you to go outside during the day, right?”

“Yes, as long as it’s just in the garden.”

“Let’s go play outside!”

Snair leapt up from the chair and grabbed both of Kyle’s hands.

“I want to have a snowball fight!”

“…Snair, I’ve never played in the snow before. I might not be any good at it.”

His voice was uncertain hardly what you’d expect from an adult.

“I’ll teach you! Let’s go!”

When Snair pleaded, Kyle gave a small nod, as if to say just for a little while. Snair turned around, slipped into his coat that had dried by the fireplace, and looked back. Kyle was still in his white clothes, with only a shawl draped over his shoulders he looked far too cold like that.

“Don’t you have something warmer to wear?”

Kyle dropped his gaze and looked over his own outfit.

“I never go outside. For staying in the house, this is more than enough…”

“I wonder if Warren has a jacket or something.”

“Who knows…”

Though it was about Kyle himself, he showed no sign of moving, so Snair called out, “I’ll go check real quick,” and ran upstairs. He opened the small closet and pulled out a thick black coat. He found gloves too though one had a small hole in it bundled them up in his arms and rushed back to the living room.

“Here, wear this.”

But Kyle didn’t take the coat when Snair offered it.

“Come on, hurry up.”

Urged on, Kyle reluctantly slid his arms into the coat and pulled on the gloves, his expression sullen. With Kyle ready, Snair took his hand and dragged him out into the snowy white garden.

As soon as Kyle stepped into the snow-covered yard, he gave a visible shudder and hugged his shoulders.

“It’s really cold. So cold.”

He trembled violently, but when he noticed the snowflakes fluttering down, his eyes widened. He turned over his trembling palm to catch the white flakes. His pale neck arched back as he looked up, then stretched both arms toward the sky. The way he lifted his arms, it looked as if he might float away into the heavens. Alarmed, Snair flung himself against Kyle’s chest.

“What’s gotten into you, acting all clingy all of a sudden?”

Called a clingy baby, Snair flushed with embarrassment, pulled away a bit roughly, and ran to the edge of the garden.

He crouched down and squeezed the white snow tightly between both hands. When he had a small snowball, he threw it at Kyle. It struck the angel right in the head. Kyle, covered in broken snow, wore a dumbfounded expression.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s a snowball fight! You throw some too, Kyle!”

Snair made another snowball and threw it. Kyle stood there dazed, offering neither resistance nor counterattack, slowly becoming dusted all over in shattered snow.

“You look weird, Kyle. Like a snowman!”

Maybe spurred on by Snair’s laughter, Kyle finally crouched down, made a small snowball, and tossed it back. There was no way a child could win against an adult once he got serious Snair took more than double the snowballs Kyle did.

Frustrated, Snair charged forward, determined to lob a big snowball at close range but his feet slipped, and he plunged headfirst into the snow.

“Snair! Snair!”

A flustered voice came closer. He was pulled upright, and green eyes looked at him with concern. But they quickly softened into a gentle smile.

“You look just like a snow bunny.”

Brushing the snow from Snair’s white-caked head, Kyle laughed.

“My sweet little snow bunny.”

Being held made Snair feel warm inside. He clung to Kyle’s neck and pressed his cheek against Kyle’s soft and white like the snow. Like a cat, he rubbed his face against Kyle’s, until he noticed something. Kyle’s back was faintly glowing. At first, Snair thought it was the snow reflecting light. But no it was different. The soft, translucent shimmer, like jelly, flickered gently across Kyle’s back.

"Hey, you're glowing."

“What’s glowing?”

“Your back, Kyle.”

Kyle tilted his head.

“My back?”

“Yeah. What… is this?”

Snair reached out gently and touched the soft glow. At that, Kyle’s shoulders gave a sharp jolt.

“I’ll ask again, Snair. On my back… what is there?”

Just as he spoke, the soft, faint shape spread wide.

“Whoa…”

It was a wing, thin, transparent, and so clear you could see right through to the other side.

“Kyle, they’re wings. Transparent wings.”

Kyle reached behind himself, as if to confirm the wings were really there. From his green eyes, tears poured like a waterfall.

“Oh, God. I thank you. I thank you…”

He sank to his knees in the snow, clasped his hands together, and closed his eyes. After a long silence of prayer, he suddenly took off into the air.

“Kyle…!”

In the blink of an eye, he soared over the rooftop. But partway through, the transparent wings stopped moving, and Kyle plunged straight down, falling with a soft thud into the snow. Snair ran over to find the angel lying face down, shoulders trembling as he wept.

“With wings this fragile… I’ll never make it back to Heaven. I can’t go back…”

Without saying a word, Snair gently patted Kyle’s back.

“When a caterpillar turns into a butterfly, its wings are super soft at first too. Kyle’s wings aren’t even white yet, so they must be brand new. Once some time passes, they’ll grow strong enough to fly properly.”

Kyle lifted his face and wiped his tear-streaked eyes. Then, slowly and without strength, he stood up, took Snair’s hand, and murmured, “Let’s go inside.” In silence, they returned to the living room, where they dried their wet coats and gloves by the fire.

Kyle sat in his usual rocking chair, and from his back, translucent wings swayed gently.

“You really were an angel…”

Just seeing those wings on his back made the Kyle who had been playing just a moment ago suddenly feel distant almost untouchable.

“I told you I was an angel from the start. You didn’t believe me?”

“It’s not that…”

Snair looked down, remembering the image of Kyle trying to fly away the moment those wings appeared. Unable to hold back, he rushed to the rocking chair and placed his hands on Kyle’s soft lap.

“Are you going to leave once you can fly?”

“When my wings are strong enough to reach Heaven, yes. Ah… what joy. I can’t even put it into words. I never imagined my wings would grow back again. This must be God telling me it’s okay to return.”

His green eyes glistened, dreamlike, as he gazed into the distance.

“You’re going to leave me and Warren behind?”

Kyle’s eyes widened, and with a sorrowful expression, he cupped Snair’s cheeks in both hands.

“It will break my heart to part from you too, Snair. In this life with only a demon for company, you were my only source of solace. But Snair… I’m only here because I happened to lose my powers as an angel. I don’t truly belong near humans. When I’m gone, everything will return to the way it was.”

“I don’t want that!”

Clinging to Kyle’s waist, Snair shook his head and pressed his face into his thigh.

“It won’t go back to how it was! I know you now. I love you. I don’t want to be apart from you!”

Soft fingers stroked his reddish-brown hair gently.

“Don’t try to keep me here with such sweet selfishness. This too is part of fate. If you couldn’t go back home, Snair if you couldn’t see the people waiting for you it would make you sad, wouldn’t it? That’s how I felt when I lost my wings and couldn’t return to Heaven. So please, don’t bind me to this world with your sadness. Let me go with a smile.”

An angel would eventually return to Heaven. Snair had sensed all along that there would be no stopping that. And that only made it all the sadder. He wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes with his fingertips and sniffled softly.

“It’s okay for me. When I go home, Grandma’s there. I have my friends at school. But what about Warren? He’ll be all alone.”

Kyle’s brow gave a slight twitch.

“Can’t you take Warren with you? With those big wings, I bet you could both make it to Heaven.”

As if he’d just heard something terrifying, Kyle shook his head violently.

“Don’t say such dreadful things. There’s no way I could bring a demon to Heaven.”

He said it as if it were only natural and that hurt.

“Poor Warren…”

“Poor? Hardly. He was always alone from the beginning.”

When Kyle was gone, Warren would be even sadder than Snair himself. The thought was unbearable.

“Would you give me a moment?”

Kyle gently nudged Snair off his lap, and Snair stepped away from the warm place he’d been sitting. Kyle stood, and a pale bluish mist began to shimmer over the thin wings on his back, until they vanished as if melting away.

“How is it? Can you still see the wings?”

“No, they’re gone. Where did you hide them?”

Kyle placed a hand over his chest and exhaled in relief.

“When the wings appeared, I suspected it… and it seems the powers I originally had as an angel are returning. Ah… If I hadn’t regained the ability to make my wings invisible, I don’t know what I would’ve done. If that demon found out I had new wings, he might try to eat me again.”

“Warren wouldn’t do that!”

Whether he didn’t hear Snair’s protest or chose to ignore it, Kyle continued urgently.

“Until the wings grow bigger and stronger—strong enough to fly me back to the heavens—I must keep them hidden from the demon. If it means keeping me on Earth, there’s no telling what he’d do.”

He’d already decided from the start. But Warren was so kind. Even if he loved Kyle deeply, he’d never do something so cruel, never hurt him like that…

“Snair.”

Kyle’s sharp voice echoed in his ears.

“No matter what happens, you mustn’t tell that demon about my wings. Absolutely not.”

Kyle’s desperate expression made Snair nod firmly. But even so, he couldn’t help feeling a deep sadness toward him.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

After sending Snair home early, Kyle paced restlessly around the living room, unable to settle down. Every so often, he would stop, unfurl the newborn wings on his back, and give them a light flutter. Wrapping himself in the still-insubstantial wings, he nuzzled against their soft texture. He would have to guard them, protect them with utmost care until they matured, turned white and broad, and strong enough to fly. Until then, they must never be discovered by that demon.

When he’d first been born an angel, there had been a time when his wings were just as delicate. Back then, they had grown into powerful, snow-white wings in less than half a year. If they required the same span of time now, it would mean he wouldn’t be able to fly until spring… or perhaps even summer. Half a year compared to the century he had spent with that demon, it was practically nothing. And yet, it felt like a painfully distant future. At the same time, he found himself yearning for that day more than anything.

All at once, Kyle dashed outside and headed straight for the rose garden. He brushed aside the snow and held his hand over the damp, black soil. If his powers were returning, then he should be able to awaken the rose seeds buried beneath and make them bloom.

But no sprouts broke through the surface, no matter how long he waited. Crestfallen, he returned inside. Just like his wings, his powers as an angel were still incomplete. Simply hiding the wings was already taking all his strength. Frustrated, he struck the table with his hand and took several deep breaths to calm his nerves.

“Don’t rush,” he told himself. If he hurried, he might ruin the wings that had only just begun to grow. He had to protect them, cherish them. If he lost them again, they might never come back.

Right now, the greatest concern was the possibility that the demon might discover the wings. He would have to be extremely cautious. If that one were provoked, there was no telling what he might do. Kyle had to avoid fights. If he thought of it as just six more months to endure, then pleasing that demon would be no trouble at all.

Bang the sound of the front door opening sent a jolt through Kyle’s body. He hurriedly willed the wings to vanish. They had disappeared earlier so they should be gone now, too. Still anxious, he ran to the mirror to check. He twisted to the side, turned his back toward it, inspecting from every angle to make sure the wings weren’t visible. And just then, creeeak the door to the living room opened.

The demon stepped in, wearing his usual black coat and carrying his leather bag, the look he always wore when returning from work. He dropped the bag onto the table with a thud and looked directly at Kyle. The gaze made Kyle’s heart seize with fear. What if he could see the wings? Kyle pressed his clenched fists against his chest, trembling. But the demon’s expression didn’t change much. In a quiet voice, he simply said, “I’m home.”

“Welcome back,” Kyle replied.

The demon blinked in surprise. Kyle didn’t understand why, until the demon gave a small smile.

“Snair came to visit, didn’t he?”

“Ah, yes.”

He assumed the demon had sensed the lingering presence of the boy, but his eyes were fixed on the empty plate left on the table.

“Did you like the sweets?”

Kyle remembered the cookies with rose petals mixed in.

“Ah… yes. They were delicious. Snair was very happy.”

“I’m glad.”

The demon kept smiling pleasantly, his good mood showing no sign of fading. As he turned and headed toward the kitchen, Kyle let out a silent breath of relief. His wings hadn’t been discovered. If he could keep them hidden like this, then in six months’ time he’d be able to return to the heavens to Lady Agatha’s side. Gently, he laced his fingers together in front of his chest.

Now that the danger had passed, his tension melted away all at once, and Kyle sank into the rocking chair with a soft thud. From the kitchen came the sound of running water, and soon the demon returned to the living room, carrying a plate with roses arranged on it roses as pure white as the snow Kyle had seen in the garden earlier that day.

“I didn’t think I’d be able to get any roses today, but a customer at the workshop shared some with me. He said they were grown in a greenhouse.”

Kyle had never given any thought to how the flowers he consumed ended up before him. He’d always assumed they were plucked from somewhere using magic. The idea that the demon had gone out of his way to find them was surprising.

He wasn’t especially hungry, so he didn’t reach for them right away. Seeing this, the demon, having finished his own meal in the corner of the kitchen, walked over and stared at him intently. Kyle froze, afraid that this time the wings had been found out. But instead, the demon asked with concern,

“Do you not have an appetite? Or was the greenhouse flower not good?”

Kyle didn’t like the way the demon was studying him, and to dodge the scrutiny, he raised his hand over the flower. It was wilting much more slowly than usual. As he wondered why, a realization struck him. Now that his powers as an angel were beginning to return, perhaps he no longer needed to draw energy from the flowers as he once did.

The demon watched the flower as it withered and Kyle along with it. He had surely noticed something was different. Thinking quickly, Kyle lied.

“I ate a lot of cookies earlier today, so I’m not very hungry.”

That one sentence seemed to satisfy the demon, who took the now-wilted plate of flowers away without further question. Kyle hadn’t expected his returning angelic powers to cause such changes in him. Then again, it made sense. The demon came back from the kitchen and sat in his usual wooden chair, picking up the coat and the gloves with the little hole in them that had been folded beside it. He tilted his head and looked over.

“What’s this about?”

Kyle regretted not putting them back where he’d found them, but it was too late.

“I wore them when I went outside to play with Snair. It was cold.”

It wasn’t something worth hiding, so he spoke honestly. The demon let out a long sigh.

“This coat’s so thin it must’ve been freezing. And these gloves have holes in them.”

“Snair picked them out himself. It was cold at first, but I warmed up while we were playing…”

Maybe it was the conversation, but for some reason, Kyle found himself meeting the demon’s eyes much more often than usual today.

“What did you play?”

He didn’t want to talk about it, but being silent might upset the demon, so he hurried to answer.

“We rolled snow into balls and threw them at each other… Snair ended up looking as white as a snow rabbit.”

“Did you have fun?”

“…It was fun…”

The demon listened with a cheerful, pleased expression.

“When I go into town tomorrow, I’ll buy you a new coat and gloves.”

“I don’t need anything like that.”

He could accept the bare essentials for survival, but anything beyond that he didn’t want it to come from the demon.

“But if Snair asks you to play outside again, you’ll be in trouble.”

“I’m fine just like this.”

The demon didn’t press him any further. Relieved by the lull in conversation, Kyle opened a poetry book to discourage any more attempts at conversation. The verses, which usually sank deep into his heart, felt hollow today. He couldn’t ignore the demon’s gaze, watching him from across the room.

Though the demon had started carving wood, he frequently paused to glance over at Kyle. It didn’t seem like he’d discovered the wings, so why was he watching so intently? The constant attention was unbearable. Yet Kyle couldn’t muster his usual sharpness to tell him to stop staring, and so he endured it.

Pretending to be engrossed in the book, he thought ahead. As his angelic powers returned, more changes would surely follow. His outward appearance might not shift, but the amount of flowers he needed to eat would certainly decrease. He could, if he forced himself, still draw out the life from them but he didn’t want to waste even one more of those beloved roses that were the only things that still loved him.

He’d stop eating the flowers. But then, how could he keep the demon from noticing? He recalled the white rose from earlier and suddenly, a brilliant idea struck him. He was about to call out, hey, demon, but stopped himself. That had always been the way of things between them, but it felt wrong to use the word demon when making a request.

For decades, he’d forgotten the demon’s real name. But now, because Snair had repeated it again and again, Kyle couldn’t forget it anymore.

“…Warren.”

The demon flinched hard, as if the very sound shook him, and he turned back, startled. His overreaction made Kyle hesitate briefly before speaking again.

“Um… this greenhouse you mentioned does it bloom summer flowers even in winter?”

Warren stood with a loud clatter, crossing the room to stand right in front of Kyle, though there was no real need.

“Yes, it does. If you keep it warm all day long, even summer flowers can bloom in winter.”

“Could one be built here too?”

“You want a greenhouse?”

The demon asked it plainly. Feeling awkward at having to ask him for something, Kyle gave a small nod. Immediately, Warren’s face bloomed into a radiant smile.

“There’s that room you always spend your days in. It’s already half like a greenhouse if I just added more glass and built a fireplace to keep it warm…”

From the sound of it, a greenhouse wouldn’t be too hard to construct.

“I’ll build it this weekend.”

He looked delighted.

“I’ll talk to the master at the workshop tomorrow and see if I can find someone to supply the glass. I can build the fireplace myself just need to get the bricks.”

Warren was speaking excitedly, rapidly, but suddenly fell silent. The pause didn’t last long.

“There was nothing but snow today. Coming back through the northern forest was miserable. The cold, the gloom… it was awful. But just talking to you wiped all of that away.”

He reached a hand out toward Kyle. It wasn’t one of those twice-a-week gestures they hadn’t touched in that way. But Kyle sensed the intent behind it, and reflexively pulled back. Warren’s face clouded with sadness at once, and Kyle mentally cursed himself, worried he’d ruined the mood. Yet just as quickly, the demon smiled again.

“How long has it been since we talked this much? Decades, probably.”

Only when he said it did Kyle realize how true that was.

“I’m happy when you ask for something. I’m happy when you talk to me.”

Letting the demon’s words pass through him without response, Kyle replied flatly, “I see,” and reopened the poetry book to end the conversation.

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