"I don't remember dying," Kousuke said with a frown. Then he turned to look at the man before him, whose face bore a perpetual, sorrowful expression. "And I definitely don't remember consenting to this."
"I'm sorry. This is the only way I can speak to you freely," Michael replied, his tone laced with guilt, though his expression remained unchanged. A pair of chairs materialized between them, along with a small table. The Archangel took a seat and gestured for Kousuke to do the same.
"Please, have a seat."
Seeing as he had nothing better to do, Kousuke grabbed the chair, spun it around, and sat with his arms resting across the back. He noticed that he could still feel his body kneeling at the altar, as if his consciousness was split. If he really wanted to, he could force himself awake and leave this place.
"As you may have guessed, this is only temporary," Michael said, almost as if he had read Kousuke's thoughts. "Though I said 'Heaven,' this isn't the actual Heaven—rather, it's a space that every human has dreamed of at least once in their life."
"You can refer to it as the Dreamscape," he continued.
"So what you're doing is basically dreamwalking into my dream?" Kousuke asked, slowly growing more aware of the space. His dream-body was beginning to feel more natural—like regaining control of a limb he never knew was missing.
"Yes. Using this technique, no one can eavesdrop on what we're about to discuss."
With a flash, a teapot and two cups appeared on the table. Michael gently poured the boiling liquid into each cup. The tea shimmered in a strange hue of green mingled with yellow. He pushed one cup toward Kousuke before calmly sipping from his own.
Kousuke raised an eyebrow at the drink. He stared at it for a moment, then looked up at the Archangel—who appeared for all the world like an ordinary man enjoying his afternoon tea.
"Oh? So secretive? I didn't expect that from an Archangel."
"It's the only way to avoid drawing the witch's attention," Michael said. "Which brings me to the question—do you perhaps know her?"
"This is the third time someone's mentioned a witch to my face. I don't know anyone like that as far as I remembered." At least on Earth. "Do you mean Asia?"
"No, not her. But I do owe that poor girl an apology on behalf of the Church," Michael replied. He opened his palm, and an image materialized above it like hologram.
It showed a tall figure cloaked in black. Their face was hidden beneath a silver mask shaped like a raven's beak. Long golden threads of hair peeked out from beneath the hood, the only clue to their appearance.
Kousuke narrowed his eyes. Something about the figure felt familiar—as if he had once seen the person behind the mask. But then he noticed the hair color and quickly shook his head. 'No... it can't be her. She shouldn't be in this world to begin with, that's just impossible.'
"Nope. Who's that? Nice figure, though," he replied casually. Michael let out a subtle sigh of relief. At the very least, Kousuke seemed to be telling the truth.
"We call her 'the witch,' but no one knows her real identity. She's been moving behind the scenes, stirring up unrest here and there," Michael said, rubbing his temple. The strain in his voice was clear—this situation had clearly become a major headache for Heaven.
"Oh? Then I'd like to meet her. Sounds like we'd get along just fine." Kousuke chuckled softly. She reminded him of someone—someone he had lost contact with in the Otherworld. They have quite the wicked personality, but to him at the time who almost lost hope, it felt like seeing a beacon of light at the end of the tunnel.
She was the one who helped him become the man he was now. Well... there was that whole episode involving aphrodisiac drug, but that wasn't the point. She had always been strangely obsessed with him.
"Please don't. We don't know her true intentions, but whatever they are, they're undoubtedly ominous," Michael warned. His tone grew more serious. The idea of a witch with unknown motives teaming up with a human of mysterious power was a scenario Heaven wanted to avoid at all costs.
"In any case, if you don't know her, that's good." Michael placed both hands on the table. "Then let's talk about you. No—your origin."
"Are you...a Wanderer?" He asked, the Archangel's gentle demeanour changed almost immediately. It was as if he answered wrong, he would be smite by lightning.
"What do you mean?" Kousuke replied, tilting his head. "I love overseas trip, but I can't afford that right now. Neither the money nor time."
He could teleport across the world effortlessly, but doing so would ruin the joy of travel itself. There's also the fact that he needs to be able to vividly paint the location in his head,which was why he had no trouble teleporting to Yasaka's Mansion in lunch break. He had already gone there once during the club trip. That's why he choose to get on the bus every single day.
"That's not what I meant," Michael said. "'Wanderer' is the term we use for those who came from beyond Earth."
For a brief moment, Kousuke's heart skipped a beat. Did they figure it out? Did they uncover the truth about the Otherworld?
"However," Michael continued, "These beings rarely look human. They possessed strange, otherworldly powers."
Kousuke silently sighed in relief. So they didn't know everything.
Still, his frown deepened. If such beings really existed... then Earth might not be as safe as he had hoped.
"...Do I look like one of them?" He asked while rubbing his nonexistent beard.
"Of course not, like I said, they 'rarely' looks human," Michael said, before pausing. "But... perhaps one of them could mimic a human. That wouldn't surprise me."
The Dreamscape fell into tense silence, thick with unspoken questions. Then—
Kukuku.
A low chuckle escaped Kousuke, gradually escalating into full-blown laughter that echoed throughout the white void.
"So you finally realized the truth," he said darkly.
Michael sat up straighter. "Do you mean—?!"
"That's right! I'm actually—" Kousuke suddenly stood and struck a ridiculous pose, one hand extended like a shadowy avenger.
"Batman."
Michael blinked. And just like that, Kousuke vanished—forcefully tearing himself from the Dreamscape with raw will, leaving the Archangel stunned in his seat.
"...My goodness, even his joke is truly beyond the ordinary. I almost got a heart attack," He mumbles as his expressionless face morphed into a smile for a split second.
...
A second later, Kousuke snapped back to reality.
He was still kneeling at the altar inside the dimly lit church. The scent of incense tickled his nose. His hand trembled faintly before he stood up with a sigh, brushing the dust off his pants.
Xenovia and Irina quickly turned to him, their eyes widening in concern.
"Kousuke? Are you alright?" Irina asked, stepping forward.
"You've been silent for a while. We thought something was wrong," Xenovia added.
Kousuke fixed them both with a sharp look. "So this was the plan all along? To trick me into coming here and let him poke into my head?"
Irina blinked, confused. "Eh? What do you mean? We were just told to ask you to come and pray. That's it!"
"Yes. We were only told that Lord Michael wished to bless you," Xenovia said with a rare flicker of unease. "Whatever you meant by that has nothing to do with us."
Kousuke stared at them for a long moment. He detected no lie in their voices—only genuine confusion. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"...Alright. Sorry. I thought you were in on it as well."
Xenovia's expression returned to her usual calm, however, a flicker of doubt surfaced on her face before reverting to normal. "We are agents of Heaven, but even we...aren't usually told everything."