🩸🪽 DARK ARCHANGEL
Episode 1: The Angel Who Looked Down
Heaven had no night.
There was no darkness there—only endless light that never softened, never dimmed, never rested. It shone the same way judgment did: cold, blinding, absolute.
And among the countless wings that filled the sky, Azael stood unmoving.
He was an archangel—one of the highest. Created from pure radiance and command. His wings stretched wide behind him, vast and white, feathers sharp as blades. His body was sculpted like a weapon made beautiful on purpose, his presence enough to silence lesser angels without a word.
He was feared.
Not because he was cruel—but because he was perfect.
Perfect obedience. Perfect strength. Perfect devotion to Heaven's will.
Love was not written into his design.
Yet.
Below the crystal heavens lay Earth, a fragile, flickering world Azael had watched burn and rebuild countless times. Humans lived short, desperate lives. They sinned. They prayed. They died.
Normally, Azael looked upon them with detached calm.
Normally.
But today, something went wrong.
"Archangel Azael," the Heavenly Voice commanded.
"Observe. Judge. Report."
Azael stepped to the edge of Heaven's gaze.
The clouds parted like obedient curtains.
And that was when he saw him.
It was raining.
Not the gentle rain poets dreamed of—but the cold, heavy kind that soaked clothes, clung to skin, and made the ground smell like rot and broken promises.
Beneath a cracked stone bridge, in a forgotten corner of the city, a boy crouched low.
He was thin—too thin. His clothes hung off his small frame, torn and patched beyond recognition. His hair was dark, plastered to his forehead by rain, dripping into wide, tired eyes.
The boy clutched a piece of bread to his chest.
Someone shouted nearby.
Footsteps approached.
The boy flinched.
Azael's breath stopped.
He didn't know why.
He had watched thousands of humans suffer before. He had seen war, famine, children crying in the ruins of their homes. None of it had ever shaken him like this.
But this boy…
The boy pressed himself against the cold stone, trembling, as three men appeared at the mouth of the bridge.
"Thief," one of them spat.
"You think you can steal and run?"
The boy shook his head rapidly. "I—I was hungry," he whispered. "Please… I didn't take much."
One of the men laughed and kicked him hard in the ribs.
The sound echoed.
Azael felt it.
Not in his ears—
In his chest.
The kick landed again. And again.
The boy curled inward, shielding the bread even as his body took the blows.
Azael's wings twitched.
He did not understand that sensation.
Angels were not meant to feel anger like this. Or pain that was not their own. Or the sharp, suffocating urge to stop something immediately.
Yet his hand lifted before Heaven could command it not to.
The rain froze midair.
The men screamed as an unseen force hurled them backward, slamming them into the far wall of the bridge. They fled, swearing and bleeding, never knowing what had struck them.
The world resumed its motion.
The boy looked up, startled.
"...Huh?"
He waited. Listened.
Nothing.
The rain fell again.
Slowly, cautiously, the boy pushed himself up, breathing hard. He wiped blood from his lip with the back of his hand and looked around in confusion.
Then—unexpectedly—he smiled.
A small, crooked smile.
"Thank you," he said softly, to no one.
Azael stared.
No human had ever thanked him before.
The boy sat back down beneath the bridge and broke the bread in half, setting one piece aside.
"For you," he murmured to the empty space beside him. "In case you're hungry too."
Azael's heart—an organ he had never needed—ached.
For the first time since his creation, Azael did not turn away from Earth.
He watched.
He watched the boy eat slowly, carefully, savoring every bite like it might be his last. He watched him shiver and pull his jacket tighter around himself. He watched him hum softly under his breath—a broken melody, imperfect and human.
The boy's name, Azael learned, was Seo Jun.
An orphan.
No parents. No home. No guardian angel officially assigned.
A flaw in Heaven's system.
Azael should have reported it.
Instead, he returned the next day.
And the next.
And the next.
He watched Seo Jun share food with stray cats. He watched him help an old woman carry groceries for a few coins. He watched him smile even when the world gave him nothing.
Every day, Azael felt something inside him stretch—bend—crack.
Why does he still smile?
Why does he endure?
Why does it hurt to watch?
On the seventh day, Seo Jun looked up at the sky and spoke aloud.
"You're there again, aren't you?"
Azael froze.
Seo Jun laughed softly. "I can't see you. But… it feels warm when you're around."
Warm.
That word didn't belong to Heaven.
"I don't know who you are," Jun continued, hugging his knees. "But… thank you for protecting me."
Azael stepped forward.
For the first time in eternity—
An angel descended.
Light folded inward. Wings vanished. Power restrained itself violently into human flesh.
Azael appeared beneath the bridge, barefoot on wet stone.
Seo Jun gasped.
They stared at each other.
Azael's human form was tall, striking, unreal—like something sculpted and given breath by mistake. His eyes were silver, deep and endless.
"You can see me," Azael said quietly, amazed.
Seo Jun stood slowly. His hands trembled.
"Are you… real?"
Azael nodded.
Seo Jun swallowed hard. Then, instead of fear—
He smiled.
"You're beautiful."
Something shattered.
Azael did not know it yet.
But in that moment—
Heaven lost its most loyal archangel.
🪽🖤 End of Episode 1