Rose Garden: Chapter 12

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The green grass had withered, and the hill burned gold with the color of autumn as Snair walked along, carrying a large basket. The wind blowing across the hill was a little chilly. A shiver ran down his back, and he quickened his pace slightly.

As he walked along the dust-colored path lined with matek trees, he passed a traveling merchant riding in a carriage. The northern path, once only accessible to Snair, had become passable to everyone after Warren’s power weakened and the magic dissolved. Still, the area around the house, including the tall fence, remained invisible to outsiders.

After confirming that no one was nearby, Snair slipped through the gate. Once inside, his figure vanished from sight. If he disappeared in front of others by accident, rumors would spread that he was “possessed by a demon.” He didn’t care what people said about him, but he didn’t want his grandmother to be spoken of poorly because of it.

Inside the fence, the garden around the house had once been a beautifully maintained flowerbed. Now it was desolate and cold, overgrown with neglect. The master of the house didn’t lift a finger to care for it. Snair sighed at the state of the garden and walked up to the front of the house then stood there with his mouth agape. The front door was wide open. Even if this was a demon’s house and no one but he could enter, this was a level of sloppiness he couldn’t forgive. Placing both hands on his hips with an audible “Hmph,” he marched straight into the house.

“Warren, are you here?”

No response. He peeked into the living room and the kitchen—no sign of him. He opened the door leading to the greenhouse. The room was thick with the scent of roses, and at its center, the rocking chair creaked softly. Snair tiptoed closer from behind. Warren, in his demon form with dusky skin, sharp claws, and protruding fangs, was dozing in the chair.

“Warren.”

With a light call, Snair gave the chair a small shake. Warren’s right eye fluttered open just a little.

“What are you doing?”

“I was taking a nap,” he replied, stretching with a yawn atop the chair.

“You can’t just nap in the middle of the day. I brought a bunch of stuff today, you know.”

Snair began unpacking the basket, laying each item one by one on the small table baguette, cheese, ham, fruit… and finally, with a thud, a bottle of champagne.

“That’s quite the feast. What’s the occasion?”

Warren looked surprised, but Snair gave a proud grin out of the corner of his mouth.

“Eva, the butcher’s daughter, got married. It was such a lively wedding. They served tons of food to everyone in the village. These are the leftovers.”

“Eva, huh…”

Murmuring as if reliving an old memory, Warren swept back his black hair with the tip of his pointed claw. The motion exposed the contour of his face, sunken cheeks where the flesh had all but disappeared. It struck Snair painfully.

“Let’s eat together.”

Trying to dispel the unease, Snair opened both arms cheerfully. But Warren slowly shook his head.

“You got all this, didn’t you? I’ll pass.”

“There’s still plenty at home, though.”

“I appreciate the gesture… but I’m not hungry.”

With that, Warren turned his right eye toward the roses in the room. He didn’t spare another glance at the food covering the table. Snair clenched his fists and cried out.

“Please eat something. You’ll waste away even more if you don’t!”

Warren merely shrugged his frail shoulders.

“It’s fine. Even if I waste away, it’s not like I’ll die.”

His right eye slowly shut again. That frail, powerless figure slumped in the chair looked so sad it made Snair bite down hard on his lip. The second winter since Kyle disappeared was about to arrive, and Warren had remained like this the entire time.

Snair hadn’t learned that the beautiful angel had returned to the heavens until about three days after Kyle was gone. His grandmother had strictly warned him not to go out alone or wander far, but Kyle’s words that he would be returning to the heavens soon and how terribly ill he’d looked kept gnawing at Snair. He couldn’t stop worrying and went to check on him.

He still couldn’t forget the shock he felt when he arrived at that tall-walled house and saw the wreckage for the first time. The gate was ajar, the front door torn open with a gaping hole in the middle, broken glass windows… The inside of the house looked like it had been ravaged by a tornado. And yet, in stark contrast to the chaos, the greenhouse was pristine, roses blooming in perfect order, untouched.

The master of the house had collapsed at the center of the greenhouse. The still, motionless body looked dead. Snair had been too afraid to approach at first. But as he stepped forward cautiously, the creaking of the floor made Warren leap up.

His gaunt face, that hollowed right eye, had lit up with joy only to instantly crumble into utter despair. Then, crouching down on the floor, Warren burst into loud sobs.

“Kyle is dead…”

His voice cracked and trembled as he hiccupped between sobs.

“That morning, three days ago, I woke up and Kyle was gone. My wings were still on the table, so he couldn’t have gone back to the heavens. Kyle is dead. He’s dead. And he didn’t even leave his body behind for me.”

Warren had cried until it seemed his right eye would melt. Snair was heartbroken too but for a different reason. He mourned that Kyle had “returned to the heavens.” Warren, on the other hand, grieved because he believed Kyle had “died.” Their sadness didn’t quite match. Unable to comfort him properly, at a loss for what to do, Snair was suddenly seized by Warren’s sharp claws grabbing both his arms.

"Snair… Snair… I dream of him over and over again. In those dreams, Kyle always has such a lonely look on his face. Do you know why? I do. It’s because he died without even having his last wish granted. I’m sure of it. I’m an idiot. Why didn’t I give him my wings sooner? If I had, he could’ve gone back to the heavens one more time while he was still alive. He could’ve seen the archangel he longed for so badly. And yet I… I…”

All of Warren’s grief poured straight into regret.

“If I hadn’t been so foolish thinking a devil like me could become an angel I never would’ve met Kyle again. If I hadn’t eaten his wings out of rage, Kyle wouldn’t have had to die in such a lonely place. No… if he’d had that wing, he could’ve lived so much longer. It’s all my fault.”

He clenched his fist so tightly his claws bit into his palm, and with it, he struck the floor again and again, hard enough to draw blood.

“Why was I even born? Why didn’t Ido throw me into the lake that stormy day? Why did I cling to life and think, so disgracefully, I want to live?”

“That’s not your fault, Warren!”

But the dark, chipped tip of the demon’s ear didn’t seem to hear Snair’s voice at all.

“Why would God…”

His hunched back trembled slightly.

“Why would God create someone like me?”

Warren relentlessly blamed himself. Snair’s attempts to comfort him never seemed to reach, and all he could do was sit beside his crying friend and watch. Worried for the heart teetering on the edge of despair, Snair visited the little house often. But no matter when he came, the moment Warren saw his face, he’d break down crying. That tear-soaked summer passed, and when the wind brushing over the hills began to sting cold against the cheeks, Warren suddenly stopped crying completely, as if he had run out of tears.

Instead, he quietly spent his days tending the roses in the greenhouse. “I won’t die even if I don’t eat. I’m a demon,” Warren would say with a smile, but watching his body grow thinner day by day made Snair anxious. He looked like he might accidentally slip into death. Snair couldn’t bear to lose even this kind demon friend. And deep down, he harbored a small resentment toward Kyle, who had returned to the heavens without saying anything, leaving Warren in such sorrow.

Still, Snair believed. Given time, Warren would recover. One day, he’d smile at him again. Since the spring when Kyle disappeared, summer had come and gone, then a bitter winter passed, another spring arrived, and now the second winter was approaching and yet, Warren’s life hadn’t changed at all. He either sat absentmindedly in his chair gazing at the flowers, or tended them, or slept…

Snair wished with all his heart for Warren to get better, to find something, anything that could distract him from his grief. Remembering that Warren was good with his hands, he once asked, “Will you teach me wood carving?” But Warren only smiled faintly and said, “Maybe next time.” And that “next time” never came.

Was he really that powerless to help Warren? The thought made Snair feel terribly sad. Even today, he’d hoped that with so much food laid out, surely Warren would eat something, but even that plan crumbled to dust. Thinking that maybe if he showed how delicious it was, Warren might feel like trying some too, Snair exaggerated on purpose, saying, “Yummy, so good!” out loud while he ate. But Warren simply watched him with a gentle smile, never reaching out to take a bite. The one-man performance started to feel pathetic, and Snair eventually stopped eating.

Snair sat absentmindedly in his chair, when a draft slipped through the gap in the door and made him shiver. Even with the door closed, the cold crept in from somewhere. The roses in the greenhouse seemed a little droopy too, as if affected by the chill. Warren was dozing, so Snair approached the fireplace, intending to light it himself, but there wasn’t a stick of firewood anywhere in the room.

No matter how he was feeling, Warren had never once neglected the care of the greenhouse roses. He knew how much Kyle had loved them, and if they withered, it would only deepen Warren’s sorrow. With that in mind, Snair dashed outside.

He wandered through the wind-whipped woods until he finally gathered an armful of firewood and returned to the house only to find the greenhouse already filled with comforting warmth. The fireplace crackled with vivid red flames. Warren, who had been crouching before it, stood and walked slowly toward Snair.

“What’s with the firewood?”

He murmured, then suddenly gave a sorrowful smile and pulled Snair into a tight embrace.

“Sorry I let you be cold.”

Wrapped in the demon’s arms, Snair found himself wondering what in this house had he burned to make such a fire? …And during that long embrace, he realized something: the chair he always sat in was gone.

“Come here.”

Just like Kyle had once done for him, Warren lifted Snair into his lap. That chair must be the one now burning in the hearth. Even if it had been unavoidable, it still felt lonely. The flames that had once roared with warmth began to die down. Snair was gently set back on the floor. Warren looked around, then stepped out of the room and returned with two gray wings in hand.

Without hesitation, he tossed one of them into the fire.

“What are you doing!?”

Snair scrambled to pull it out, panicked. Even once retrieved, the wing still smoldered, smoke curling up from its singed edges. He slapped at it with his palm to smother the flames.

“Stop it!”

From behind, Warren grabbed both of Snair’s arms. The extinguished wing gave off a sharp, burnt scent that hung in the air.

“You’ll burn yourself…”

Warren looked at Snair’s soot-blackened palm with a pale expression. Snair shook off his grasp and screamed, nearly biting the words:

“Why would you burn your wings!?”

“I was out of firewood, so I burned it instead. I don’t need them anymore. It’s nothing to get so worked up over.”

Without another word, Warren threw the scorched gray wing back into the fire. Snair barely had time to react before it burst into flames again. Along with a short cry, he saw Warren reaching for the remaining wing and in a flash, he threw himself into Warren’s thin body.

Snatching the dropped wing, he fled to the corner of the room.

“You can’t burn it, you can’t!”

He clutched the wing tightly to his chest and shouted.

“You absolutely can’t!”

Tears welled up in his eyes. It hurt so much that Warren could throw away a piece of his own body without even a trace of hesitation. Warren slowly approached and knelt before the child.

“Rather than keeping something useless like that around, I’d rather you not be cold.”

Even if it never served a purpose, the wing Snair held was soft and fluffy in his arms. It was gray, but still very beautiful.

“They really were useless wings. When they suddenly grew in, I was treated like a demon and driven out of the village. My kind grandparents were killed. And when I tried to remake them in exchange for my left eye, to send Kyle back to Heaven, it was already too late. Things would’ve been so much better if I never had them to begin with…”

After that murmur, Warren let out a bitter smile.

“Every time I look at them, I think of Kyle. It only brings me sadness. I should’ve thrown them away long ago.”

Kyle, Kyle, Kyle… It was always about Kyle. Snair bit his lip hard. “I’m not supposed to say anything.” That was the promise he made with the angel. But he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Kyle isn’t dead!”

Despite the desperate confession, Warren only gave a sorrowful smile.

“Kyle is dead.”

It was a murmur of total resignation. He made no effort to believe. Snair clenched both hands tightly.

“He only looked like he died. He grew wings on his back and flew off on his own, back to Heaven.”

At first, Warren wouldn’t listen. But after Snair insisted again and again He went back to Heaven, he went back to Heaven, Warren’s expression began to falter, tinged with confusion.

“There’s no way… No way Kyle could’ve gone back to Heaven. I mean, I… I ate his wings.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you, Kyle grew new ones.”

Warren pressed his slightly bent fingers to his lips, lost in thought. His black eyes stared intently at Snair.

“Even if Kyle did grow new wings, how do you know that?”

The stubborn demon was finally beginning to entertain the possibility that Kyle might still be alive.

“Because they grew while he was with me. Kyle told me not to say anything to you. He said if you found out he had wings again, you might eat them. I told him you’d never do something like that, but…”

“That’s… That’s absurd…”

Warren held his head in both hands, clawing at it. He curled in on himself, pressing his forehead to the floor.

“Right before you came home with the gray wings, Kyle told me he was going back to Heaven. There were big, pure white wings on his back.”

His hunched back shook in small tremors. Snair, unsure of what to say, just stood there hugging the gray wing to his chest, staring at him. The only sound in the room was the occasional crackle of the firewood in the hearth and even that seemed to fade away. At last, Warren slowly lifted his face.

“There’s nothing to be sad about.”

He murmured quietly, and a single tear slipped from his right eye.

“Kyle is alive. If he’s alive, that’s enough… That alone is enough.”

Snair threw aside the wing and ran to him. Thin, strong arms wrapped around him in a firm embrace.

“…But being alone is still lonely.”

“I’m here. I’ll always stay with you!”

Letting the emotion in his chest pour out, Snair sobbed uncontrollably. How could Kyle not understand how kind and lonely this demon was? The thought was so bitter, so frustrating, he couldn’t stop crying.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The garden within the castle was bursting with roses of every color, as though someone had scattered a handful of gemstones across the grounds. Amid the beautiful blooms, in a quiet corner beneath the soft pink blossoms, Kyle sat down and sighed over and over again. Now and then he’d pluck a withered leaf, pretending to tend to the roses. Today was the monthly grand meeting, and a large number of high-ranking angels were gathering at the castle. Not wanting to face those prideful and spiteful individuals, Kyle had pushed the responsibility of welcoming them onto other angels and escaped to the garden, using rose care as an excuse.

Fifty years ago… after a century of cohabiting with a demon, Kyle had finally returned, and his reappearance had caused a stir in Heaven. Having lost his powers along with his wings eaten by the demon, he had vanished from all perception. Everyone had assumed he’d been killed and had removed his name from the register of angels.

Even now, whenever he recalled the moment he returned to Heaven, his teeth clenched in frustration. With wings that had only just begun to grow back and still awkward to fly with, he’d struggled desperately to make his way home. His chest had been full of joy at having returned to where he truly belonged… but the angels who greeted him had been colder than ice. Why come back now? The way they looked at him those eyes alone had been enough to make Kyle shrink into himself, his chest aching with heartbreak. Had he been a high-ranking angel, perhaps things would have gone differently. But he was only a low-ranking one, with little talent and a face that was his only so-called charm, often whispered about behind his back. No one had wanted him to return.

The only one who had truly welcomed him back was the Archangel Agatha. To her, Kyle had confessed everything that had happened on Earth, that his wings had been eaten, that he had lost his powers, that he’d been forced to spend a hundred long years with a demon. Agatha had mourned his suffering as though it were her own, even shedding tears as she listened to his story, nodding along at every turn. She had blamed herself, saying it was all her fault for sending him to Earth in the first place, and she had graciously summoned him back to the Rose Castle. Kyle had thought everything would go back to the way it was. But upon stepping into the Rose Castle for the first time in a century, he had seen someone new standing beside Agatha, a brunette angel he had never seen before. The angel’s name was Pepin, and he had entered the castle as Agatha’s attendant after Kyle had vanished.

"From now on, I hope the two of you will get along well," Agatha had said with a warm smile. Though Kyle had reluctantly shaken Pepin’s hand, the feeling that he had been betrayed never left him. Of course, it made sense that a new attendant had been appointed in his absence, it had been a hundred years but even so, Kyle had wanted to be the only one by Agatha’s side.

Pepin, though not as beautiful as Kyle, possessed extraordinary ability, rivaling even the high-ranking angels. He never flaunted it, and he never insulted Kyle for being less capable. At first, Kyle had believed they might get along. But as time went on, Pepin’s thoughtful nature, his kindness, and the way he was adored by the high-ranking angels began to wear on Kyle. Unlike Kyle, who had only Agatha as an ally, Pepin had everything, talent, popularity, and Agatha’s love. Kyle knew this bitter resentment stemmed from the ugly emotion called jealousy, yet he couldn’t get rid of it no matter how hard he tried.

Little by little, Kyle had stopped speaking to anyone other than Lady Agatha, spending most of his time alone in the garden. Whenever he crossed paths with the other angels, they found ways to mock him. Just seeing Pepin irritated him. Being alone was so much easier.

He had thought that once he returned to Heaven, everything that had happened on Earth would quickly fade from memory. But instead, it haunted his dreams again and again. That life had been so painful, so degrading, so why did it feel almost nostalgic now?

He was in Heaven. He’d longed so desperately to return, and he had finally made it back. Even if no one welcomed him, this was still where he belonged. Lying down gently at the base of the roses, he closed his eyes. He was always surrounded by roses. That had never changed whether on Earth or here in Heaven. So then… what was the difference between being in Heaven and being on Earth?

As he turned the thought over in his mind, a creeping fear began to bloom. He’d realized that life with the demon and life now weren’t so different after all. That couldn’t be. After all, this place, this was Heaven.

“Because Lady Agatha is here.”

He told himself that, twining the tips of his fingers together lightly.

“I wish I could have seen Snair again, just once…”

He murmured the words aloud, but what rose in the corner of his mind were black eyes, those eyes that had whispered “I love you” so insistently it became suffocating. That dark shadow… Even remembering him now felt like a sin. Kyle sealed the memory away. With a breath of frustration he couldn’t smother, he touched a finger to his chest, and that was when he heard it a rustle of leaves.

Startled, he sat up. Standing there, arms crossed and looking down at him, was Neseta, a high-ranking angel. He must have cloaked his presence; Kyle hadn’t noticed he was there until he made a sound.

“It’s been a while, Kyle. Lately you’ve left everything to Pepin, even at meetings you don’t bother to show your face.”

Neseta’s tone was gentle, the words flowing like the chime of silver bells. Pleasant on the surface, but so unexpected that it immediately put Kyle on guard. This angel usually ignored him completely, what could he be up to now?

“I was just going to help Pepin.”

He didn’t want to be alone with Neseta. With his gaze lowered, he tried to slip past him but a single step was all it took for Neseta to block his path completely.

“The meeting ended while you were napping. More importantly, I’ve been wanting to talk to you properly for some time now. I hear you had quite the ordeal on Earth living with a demon, was it?”

Kyle hadn’t told anyone besides Lady Agatha. So how did he know? He raised his face and in an instant, Neseta’s piercing gaze pinned him where he stood.

“It’s not just me. Every angel in Heaven knows by now. The shameful tale of an angel who lived a hundred years with a demon just to stay alive. The word ‘shameless’ might as well have been invented for you.”

Kyle’s lips trembled with a mix of humiliation and fury. Slowly, he opened his mouth.

“Are you saying I should have died instead?”

Neseta widened his eyes in mock surprise, shrugging theatrically.

“Of course not. I’m simply saying there were other courses of action you could’ve taken before it came to living with a demon.”

But in the end, it was the same. That he should’ve died before sinking to such disgrace. Rage welled up inside him, and Kyle’s pale fingers curled into fists.

“And no matter how badly your wings were damaged, it’s not normal for them to take a hundred years to grow back. Any angel with average ability would’ve had new ones in less than ten. Do you understand? The reason they took so long to grow was because your abilities are far lower than anyone thought.”

The words hit him like a slap, something he had never heard before. He was too stunned to speak.

“Oh? Didn’t Lady Agatha tell you that?” Neseta whispered, mocking him with a smile.

“How astonishingly capable Pepin is, compared to you. With such a remarkable angel in her service, why would Lady Agatha bring you back at all? Sometimes her decisions are truly baffling. Ah, almost forgot she’s asking for you. You’d best hurry along.”

Kyle had refused to cry in front of Neseta, no matter what. But the moment he stepped into the castle, he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He slipped behind one of the large pillars and began to quietly sob. He was angry with Lady Agatha for telling everyone about how he had lived with a demon, and more than that, he was frustrated with himself for being unable to say a single word back in protest. He cried for a good while, and once the tears finally stopped, he wiped his face clean and knocked on the door to Lady Agatha’s office.

“Come in,” came Lady Agatha’s voice clear and lovely, like a skylark’s song. Kyle stepped into the room. She sat behind the desk in the center of the room, and Pepin stood at her side. Kyle didn’t want to see Pepin’s face right now, but with Lady Agatha there, he couldn’t just turn around and leave. He walked slowly toward the desk. Lady Agatha rose from her chair and gave him a light embrace. Her elegant fingers brushed his cheek, and her sapphire eyes looked into his.

“Your eyes are red. Were you crying?”

Kyle shook his head weakly. “It’s nothing, Lady Agatha. What did you need me for?”

Though she tilted her head slightly, she didn’t press him further.

“I called you here for a reason. I need your help with a task. Normally, we send two people to retrieve a soul, one of them usually a record-keeper but today, neither I nor anyone else is free. I’ll mark the location with a guiding seal, so I’m sorry, but would you go on your own this time?”

Neseta had said the council meeting was already over. She hadn’t seemed particularly busy, either. Kyle found it odd that this task would be given to him alone. Still, retrieving souls on Earth was an angel’s primary duty, and he had no reason to question it.

“Understood, Lady Agatha.”

He bowed and was just about to leave when she stopped him with a gentle “Kyle.”

“There’s one more thing I want to discuss. I hear you haven’t been speaking to Pepin lately. He’s been hurt by your coldness and came to me about it. I always thought you two were getting along well. What’s going on between you?”

Kyle glared at Pepin. Ignoring him only made the irritation worse. It was jealousy, he knew that. And because he knew it, he didn’t want to explain. He didn’t want to answer. Pepin was kind. Pepin was capable. Everyone liked Pepin... Kyle squeezed his eyes shut.

“I’ll be more mindful from now on.”

Lady Agatha let out a small sigh.

“Kyle, what I want to know is why you’ve been treating Pepin this way.”

Even angels could feel anger, feel jealousy... But Kyle didn’t want to admit to such ugly emotions in front of her. As he kept silent, Pepin, who had been standing in the corner of the room, quietly stepped forward.

“It’s all right, Lady Agatha. Kyle seems troubled by this too.”

Pepin’s attempt to smooth things over only made Kyle feel more pathetic. It left him emptier than even being tormented by Neseta in the rose garden. The helplessness swelled inside his chest, and he met Lady Agatha’s sapphire gaze head-on. What he had always wanted to ask, yet had been too afraid to voice, he finally said it aloud.

“Lady Agatha, who do you love more, Pepin or me?”

Perhaps surprised by the sudden question, Lady Agatha’s eyes widened slightly before curving into a small smile.

“There’s no hierarchy in love, Kyle. I love both you and Pepin equally.”

But Kyle shook his head, unconvinced.

“Pepin and I are both angels, yes, but we differ in appearance and ability. We are not the same. And yet you say you love us the same? That makes no sense.”

Lady Agatha gave a quiet “Hmm” and brought a thumb to her chin.

“There may be no ranking in love, but what one loves about someone can differ. I love Pepin’s gentle nature, his ability to care for others. And I love your beauty, Kyle the way you can captivate those who see you like no one else can.”

“Beauty…” Kyle echoed, stunned.

At his murmured word, Lady Agatha smiled warmly.

“Your honey-colored hair, your emerald eyes, skin like fresh milk, white and smooth. Your lips hold the freshness of a newly blossomed rose. I’ve never seen an angel as beautiful as you.”

Kyle’s trembling fingers rose to touch his own cheek.

“Are you saying… you love me only for my face?”

“What else is there to love?” she replied.

The words hit like a bolt of lightning. Only his face. It was only his face that had granted him a place by Lady Agatha’s side.

“If I didn’t have this face, would you have never called me to your side?”

Kyle pressed forward, voice tight, and Lady Agatha responded with a serene smile.

“That’s right.”

He held back his tears only because Pepin was there. He couldn’t bear to show that pathetic side of himself in front of Pepin. And Pepin… was watching him with a troubled expression, as if to ask why Kyle had suddenly said such a thing.

“But Kyle,” Lady Agatha continued, “no matter what kind of you there is, I still love you.”

Her words flipped back and forth, and Kyle, unable to take it anymore, cried out:

“You just said you loved my face! That without this face, you couldn’t love me!”

Lady Agatha met Kyle’s eyes, her blue gaze tinged with something like sadness.

“I said I cherished what stood out most in you, your beauty. Isn’t it natural to love a person for their strengths? And even if you weren’t so beautiful, Kyle, I would still have loved you… for that tragically foolish part of you, unbefitting of an angel.”

The impact of her words stole Kyle’s voice, crushed him, and brought the most unbearable truth crashing down before his eyes in the worst way imaginable.

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