* * *
“Leave the people of the past in the past. You must live your future.”
The god’s firm words made Hesia snap.
“How am I supposed to leave him in the past? My whole life—my entire life is with Vivi! You say you’re a god, right? You clearly care about him, so why won’t you give back what he’s longed for all his life? I want to see him live in peace, yes—but more than that, I want to see him loved.”
The god silently looked down at the boy who finally voiced what he’d never dared say to anyone.
“You call your god cold-hearted, and yet it’s me you seek at times like this. That’s why humanity is both lovable and foolish. But Angelus—resurrecting Dolor is impossible.”
“You call yourself a god and you can’t even do that?”
There wasn’t a trace of reverence in his sharp tone.
At first, he at least pretended to show respect.
Now, Hesia showed his true colors—raw, passionate.
The god watched him with an unreadable gaze, then spoke, her voice like a laugh wrapped in mist.
“You should let me finish. Resurrection… it shakes the balance of the world. It takes tremendous power. So, no—I cannot do it right now. But going back to the past… that, I can allow.”
“Back to the past…”
[Yes. And if you return to the past, you’ll have time to gather strength before Dolor dies, so you could save him. Of course, going back in time doesn’t mean Dolor will stop being Dolor. He’ll still grieve life, and still long for peace. But! I can twist things a little. Thanks to you coming to me, I remembered Hamal for the first time in a long while. And because you showed me this bracelet…]
“How… how can you twist it?”
[I’ll kill that bastard Letiyan. He’s practically evil anyway. And for what he did to my child, I can at least interfere that much. But don’t think Letiyan’s death will instantly change everything.]
“…I know.”
[Also, if you go back, you’ll have to endure all that pain again.]
At the emotionless declaration, Hesia pressed his lips shut.
His face, which had held a glimmer of hope at the thought of returning to the past, dimmed—if only for a moment.
“It’s alright. I have Vivi. He’ll save me. I’m sure of it, so I’ll be fine.”
[What a kind little angel. Then, Angelus, let me ask the most important question. If I turn back the world to the past—what will you give me in return?]
The god rolled the bracelet across a hand pale like carved marble as he asked.
Hesia had already expected to be asked for a price and so responded calmly.
“If I die… can I be by your side?”
At the question, the god leaned forward slightly, gazing at Hesia.
Not just him—perhaps even the core of who he was.
A pale pink soul, still wandering… but destined to walk the righteous path.
One who longed more than anyone for another’s glory, who believed in love and kindness.
There are many forms of goodness in the world, and even now—after taking a life—Hesia remained good.
After a long silence, the god nodded.
[Yes. You can come to my side.]
“That would be a tremendous honor, wouldn’t it?”
[Yes.]
“Then I won’t go to your side when I die.”
The god, having half-expected those words, didn’t look shocked. Instead, he spoke gently, like chiding a child.
[Then you won’t find peace even in death. You’ll wander the world as a restless spirit. Perhaps, you’ll become nothing more than a lingering remnant.]
Even evil men, once purged of their wickedness, could be granted a place at the god’s side.
To refuse a gift given to all—it was unthinkable.
To fall from the highest place to the lowest… The god tried once more, his voice heavy.
[Angelus, offer something else instead.]
“I have nothing else to give. This life—I know it’ll end soon. And I can’t promise the life after. I’ve already given my faith to another. What I can offer is only what comes after death. In some distant, far-off future.”
Humans fear death and yet live hoping their fortunes continue even after, or that the next life will be better.
But Hesia was saying: ‘If Vivi gets a chance, then I don’t care if I lose all of mine.’
A creature like a moth to flame. Living for fleeting love, dying for fleeting faith…
The god watched Hesia silently, then finally spoke as a growing clamor approached from outside.
[Angelus. Your death is coming.]
“I know.”
[Will you truly stake everything? The world after death is longer than the life you’ve lived as Angelus.]
“Vivi’s life matters more. If he can be even a little happier—if I can believe that—then I can give up anything.”
[Do you really believe in people? This time, Dolor’s innocence was revealed, but there’s no guarantee that will happen again.]
The god, having seen the future, asked with a voice full of quiet testing.
At that, Hesia’s eyes softened, forming a gentle smile—his first genuine one since becoming a fugitive.
“I don’t really trust in the goodness of people. But I trust in Vivi’s goodness. His kindness won’t fade in the next life. And if that’s true, someone, eventually, will help him.”
There are many who miss him.
Many who love him.
In a world where kindness makes one both precious and foolish, he remained kind to the end.
Speaking with a faraway, dreamy voice—as if remembering a long-lost day—Hesia tilted his head and smiled brightly.
It was the innocent smile of a child.
So very young.
The god watched the young angel for a long time, then slowly closed his eyes.
And like when he first appeared, the god quietly dissolved into light.
That blinding light spoke to the one who watched it vanish.
[The one who bound you to the past will walk toward the future.]
“There! That’s him—the killer!”
“Kill him now! Who knows what he’ll do if we let him live!”
Loud footsteps and shouts filled the once-peaceful temple.
The holy place was violated without hesitation by knights dispatched from the royal family.
Hesia didn’t spare them even a glance.
He simply kept his eyes fixed on the god, now turned into light.
As the sword neared his neck, the god—radiating evenly across the world—spoke in a soft, singing voice.
[Blessed are those who mourn.]
“Haah!”
Through the blinding white, Hesia saw Vivi’s smiling face.
Even as his body tilted and collapsed, he couldn’t close his eyes.
He just kept looking.
Then, an invisible hand gently closed his eyes for him.
As his eyelids slowly lowered, he saw Vivi drawing closer—his face a mix of frustration and a bitter smile.
“Why that face, Vivi…”
Murmuring faintly, Hesia asked. And Vivi answered in a quiet voice.
‘You were supposed to live a long life. You told me to live a long one… so why did you die so soon?’
As that once-promised vow was whispered, Hesia smiled, feeling Vivi’s gentle hand brushing his cheek.
“Without Vivi… nothing was any fun anymore…”
Mumbling like a child, with a tiny voice, he drifted into final slumber.
And almost immediately after his eyes closed, the knights began to speak.
“Did you kill him?”
“Yes! I did it!”
The young knight, convinced Hesia was a criminal, beamed proudly.
The commander, watching him with unreadable eyes, finally grinned and tousled the rookie’s hair.
“Well done. He may not have been a prince, but still—bringing back his head might cause issues with the Principality. For now, let’s show mercy and return the whole corpse without damage….”
As their disrespectful chatter continued right beside the fallen Hesia, the god—still lingering—whispered softly.
[They, too, shall be comforted…]
‘So, dear angel. May you rest peacefully by the side of your god.’
‘The good die young, and those who use the good live long.’
A law that never changes, even as time passes and eras shift.
Feeling a flicker of doubt in such laws, the god gently brushed Hesia’s hair.
The soft pink locks swayed with grace.
Breathing gone, his face was as still and serene as a wax doll.
The god closed his eyes again.
He could not let one who gave everything for his god be disgraced.
From the god’s hand, the bracelet rolled slowly.
With utmost delicacy, he rewound the threads of time.
To the past.
‘I am an angel, and the god I believe in is the only one. For my god, I’ll do anything. Whatever it is.’
To the past.
‘At the edge of the world, where our footprints were quickly washed away… again, again….’
To the past.
“Yeah, I’ll be okay. You know, there’s that saying—blessed are those who mourn… for they shall be comforted.”
To the past.
“W-Who are you?! And I’m not a baby!”
In the end, to someone’s beginning.
A god who had returned to the past—and the present—looked down at a child with a clear, innocent face, his own expression tinged with sorrow.
Slowly lowering himself to the child’s level, the god stood before him.
The child’s face evoked memories of someone dearly missed.
He stared for a long moment before finally speaking.
“I shall give you the name Dolor. Blessed are those who mourn… for they shall be comforted.”
At that prophecy, the young boy’s eyes widened.
His cheeks were still round with baby fat, yet in his striking blue eyes—sharp even at that age—light scattered like fragments of glass.
“Dolor…”
Hearing the boy’s soft, youthful voice, the god couldn’t help but smile faintly.
He pressed a kiss to the child’s clear forehead—bestowing affection, and perhaps a prayer.
That the boy would rise above all the hardship and pain, and in the end, claim happiness as his own.
With a reverence for the one who would endure and overcome.
Ah—this was a new beginning.
* * *
Who’s crying? Not me…! ಥ_ಥ