Tales of Heaven

Raphael

“Button up your coat,” Raphael said.

He already knew his advice would not be heeded any more than the last five times he sent it into the ether, but he tried anyway. Dante kept walking, pretending to be deaf, with his winter coat wide open and waving behind his back on today’s surprisingly gentle mountain breeze.

It was such a pleasant day today. A winter day, yet more merciful than the days before, and possibly the days ahead. Still, Raphael couldn’t let this go.

“At least put your wool hat on,” he tried again. “You’ll catch a cold.”

“Maybe you would,” Dante said, smirking over his shoulder. “I grew up in the ghetto. I lived on the street through the coldest months and I can tell you, this is not the type of cold you should be afraid of. Listen to my survival guidance and you’ll be fine.”

Raphael sighed. They were walking home after a long day over the mountain trails. Around them was nothing but the song of birds and the insistent crunching of the snow beneath their feet. The forest was serene, but it gave the impression of an eerie calm before a storm.

Soon enough, the trees dispersed, and the pathway took them to the rockiest parts of the mountains. Nothing but snowy peaks in the distance. The village of Cava, the closest point of civilization, was visible from this height, and it looked so small beneath their feet.

They were almost home. Just one last hike over a narrow pathway next to a vertical wall on one side and a steep trench on the other. If Raphael slipped here, he’d drop long enough to recite the first page of Heaven’s Constitution before meeting his instantaneous, gruesome death.

Or so he imagined. His mind went to the strangest places when he was afraid.

He grasped on any protruding bump on the wall for additional support and made small steps, causing him to lag. Meanwhile, Dante walked ahead, carrying a heavy backpack, paying no mind to the view below.

He stopped and looked back. “What’s taking you so long? You had no problem with this path in the summer.”

Raphael glared in irritation. “In the summer, this path wasn’t snowy and slippery.”

“Should I carry you?”

“No!” His voice spilled with slightly more outrage than he intended. “I’ll be fine.”

He kept taking slow steps forward, not wanting to be a burden. Dante already put most of their survival on his shoulders. Even now, he was the only one carrying their load.

Today, they visited a famous herbalist who lived near Cava and bought off almost all of her produce—herbs, spices, mushrooms, and a huge amount of wild onions. All of it was in Dante’s backpack, bought with the money from his job at the orphanage. 

“A storm is approaching,” Dante said.

Raphael glanced at the vicious clouds on the horizon, racing across the sky, approaching them. The weather could change in a matter of minutes here. Raphael had learned to respect and appreciate every second of peace and tranquility, as they could be taken in a heartbeat.

“Alright, we’ll do this the fast way.”

Raphael felt his feet leave the ground. “No! No, no, no!”

Every time Dante used his telekinetic ability on him, Raphael tried not to scream in terror. He hovered only a step over from the path, but there was something deeply upsetting on an instinctual level when his feet couldn’t find ground to step on.

“Dante put me down!”

“Bear with it. We have to hurry.”

His demon fastened the pace up the mountain path, and Raphael floated closely after him in the air. Indeed, they took the distance much faster. But this took an enormous mental strain on Dante. His brows knitted from the usual headache and a small vein had appeared on his temple.

They reached the end of the narrow path and stood at the edge of the mountain ridge. This part was especially picturesque, with a breathtaking view of the river valley below. Several towering rocky columns bloomed from the riverbed like gigantic flowers.

In the summer, Raphael and Dante claimed one of these solitary columns as their new home and built their small and cozy mountain cabin on top of the closest one. Only birds could reach the top of these columns. Birds, and demons who could fly. But just in case, Raphael and Dante made a rope bridge connecting the column to the mountain ridge.

Dante walked onto the bridge, which inevitably placed Raphael on his side, causing him to float over the enormous valley, and forcing him to stare into the face of death.

“Here too?” Raphael flailed in the air. “No! No! Put me down! Dante!”

He slapped his palms over his eyes. Staring down made his heart pound against his chest, as though it were about to explode. Even with his eyes closed, his head was spinning, his mind couldn’t tell where was up and where was down.

A gentle touch soothed him for a moment, and when he opened his eyes, Dante was smiling before him. His demon lover was cupping his cheeks gently, his blood-red eyes stared into his, and this was all the comfort Raphael needed.

“I’m holding you,” Dante said. “Do you trust me?”

Raphael sighed—he couldn’t even get mad at him. “I trust you.”

Dante held his hand and crossed the rest of the bridge with a casual stride. Once they reached the end, and Raphael’s feet touched the ground, he immediately clung to Dante in desperate need of a loving embrace.

The exercise was frightening, but it also made him feel so vulnerable and protected. It was always like this when Dante was around. Even when Raphael’s instincts were screaming in terror, his mind knew he was never truly in danger. Once again, Dante proved he knew what it meant to be a protector.

After Raphael was certain he would not cry like a baby in front of his lover, he pulled away, revealing the dignified face of royalty. “I’ll make you the most delicious onion stew.”

Dante grinned. “Please, do.”

The ice-cold wind pierced through their winter coats. A vicious howl whistled in their ears as the clouds enveloped the entire mountain. Everything turned white in seconds and the horizon disappeared. Their cabin vanished into the snowy mist, even though it was before their eyes.

“Just in time.”

Raphael and Dante hurried home and locked the door. They took off their coats and lit a fire in the stove. This cabin was a single room, containing only the most essential furniture—a bed, a table with two chairs, and a stove that served for both warmth and cooking.

The biggest perk about a tiny home was that it warmed up quickly. Creepy howling spread around the walls, causing them to squeak under the pressing wind. But inside this tiny box was a warm paradise with brewing tea and delicious onion stew.

Since Dante was the only one who had a job, Raphael had lots of free time at home, so as soon as he started experimenting with cooking, he found out he absolutely thrived in the role of a househusband. Dinner tonight was one of his best achievements so far.

Once upon a time, he used to be a prince, focused on governmental politics. He never knew the fulfillment of watching Dante enjoy his cooking. Or the joy of putting his lover between clean sheets, where he’d kiss him, touch him, and make him squirm with delight.

The fire crackled in the metal stove. An enormous lump of firewood would keep it alive for a long while into the night. The walls reflected the warm glow of the flames, keeping the indoor space bright, like a solitary oasis in the chaotic darkness that was the outside world.

Dante’s sweaty back gleamed like amber. Raphael nipped the skin over his shoulder blade while his hips thrust his cock deeply into his lover. Dante moaned in bliss, holding himself firmly on the bedpost, his grip threatening to break the wood.

Raphael slowed down the pace, desperately extending this precious moment as much as his endurance allowed. He wrapped his arms around Dante’s torso, savoring the feel of his heated skin under his palms, and voraciously devouring him with kisses.

“Don’t slow down,” Dante whispered.

“Why?” Raphael asked, while sensually capturing his earlobe between his lips.

“I want…”

Before he could finish, Raphael traced his thumb over Dante’s lower lip and boldly slipped it inside his mouth. Dante’s lips enclosed around the digit.

“Tell me what you want,” Raphael whispered.

Greed gave way to defiance, and Dante sank his teeth into Raphael’s flesh. The sudden jolt of pain made the angel wrench his finger out. He responded with a savage thrust of his hips, causing the bed to shudder violently and his lover to groan in pleasure.

“Is this what you wanted?” Raphael carried on with this relentless pace. Slapping sounds echoed in the small walls of their cabin.

“Yes,” Dante breathed in pleasure. “Yes…”

He glanced over his shoulder, lips parted in expectation. Raphael heard the silent demand and kissed his mouth. Their tongues danced at the wild pace of their rocking bodies. Raphael stroked Dante’s cock, adding another ruthless assault to his lover’s senses.

Dante pulled away from the kiss, letting out a pitiful mewling sound, suddenly weakened for the incoming culmination. Raphael slammed into Dante’s hips like a wild animal one last time, and his mind exploded in a palette of sounds and colors, merging into a devastating mass of utter euphoria.

Several waves of pure rapture vibrated from head to toe, and as they subsided, he registered Dante harshly fisting his blonde hair. His lover’s ecstatic moans had filled the small interior of their cabin, to the point of permanently imbibing into the wooden walls. His body spasmed uncontrollably as he rode the last waves of their simultaneous orgasm.

Raphael and Dante collapsed onto the pillows.

The air in the cabin was liquid fire.

Dante’s frame glowed with all the nuances of molten gold as he hugged the pillow, catching his breath. Raphael ran his fingers through his overgrown raven hair, damp from their rigorous lovemaking and so silky to the touch.

Dante smirked, his eyes sparkling with a sudden look of mischief, and he leaped on top of Raphael, rolling them on the bed and locking their lips in one last passionate kiss.

“You’re hot,” Raphael whispered as they pulled away.

Dante giggled. “I know.”

“No, you’re literally hot.” Raphael palmed Dante’s forehead, detecting an unmistakable rise in temperature. His demon appeared to be coming down with a fever. But he wasn’t sluggish or fatigued. He was as energetic as ever, so he might be mistaken.

Dante snickered and relaxed on top of his chest. “Of course, I’m hot. You tired me out.”

Raphael smirked. “Did I?”

He sighed in contentment, enjoying Dante’s weight on top of him. The windows shook slightly, but at this point, Raphael was incapable of focusing on problems. He pulled the thick blanket over them both and quickly drifted to sleep. 

“I love you,” Dante whispered into the silence.

* * *

The howling wind made its way into his dreamless sleep. Raphael opened his eyes and gazed into the dark grayness of the cabin. It was a gloomy morning. The storm was still raging outside and Raphael could see his breath in the air. He was covered up to his neck with the thick winter blanket, but the stove had burned out during the night.

And he was alone in bed.

Reluctantly, Raphael forced himself to sit up and gazed out the window, instantly catching a shadowy figure in the whirlwind. Dante was swinging an ax over his head, chopping wood in the storm. Raphael looked back at the storage next to their stove. It wasn’t empty, but what they had wasn’t nearly enough to last for the whole day.

The storm didn’t give any sign of stopping soon. Well, they had enough food to last them for a few days, so there wasn’t any need to even exit this cabin.

Raphael got out of bed and put his clothes on. He lit a new fire in the stove. His sweet demon must be freezing outside, so he wanted to warm up the cabin by the time he was done. Once the fire was burning, the cabin turned cozy again.

Next, Raphael picked up their empty kettle and struggled to open the door. The wind immediately tried to send him flying, but Raphael remained close to the ground while he filled the kettle with fresh snow. He came back inside and placed the kettle on the stove, letting the snow melt. Finally, he added some tea leaves.

The cabin was now warm and filled with the pleasant aroma of Dante’s favorite tea. No one would expect Dante to go to work in this weather either, so today would be a lazy day meant for reading books and cuddling in bed.

Raphael looked out the window again, hoping to see Dante coming back, but his silhouette was nowhere to be seen. The wind relentlessly lifted the upper layers of the snowdrifts in the air, until there was a moment of stillness—a random, unexpected patch of quiet when the air cleared just enough for Raphael to see his lover lying on the ground.

He leaped to his feet and shoved the door open with all his might. The wind pushed against him like a freezing wall. Raphael defiantly forced his way forward, making a long trail through the knee-deep snow.

He dropped into a pile and uncovered his lover, lying on his face, unconscious. The ax had vanished somewhere and his bare hands had a bluish tint. How could he go out in this storm without gloves? He did not have his wool hat on, and his coat was unbuttoned.

Raphael would scold him later.

He picked up Dante in his arms and brought him into the cabin. Once he closed the door, he placed him on the bed, removed his coat, and wrapped him in all their blankets. Dante started shivering and opened his eyes. Raphael gave him a cup of tea. Gradually, the bluish tint receded from his hands, bringing back a healthy coloration.

Dante’s face was red, and just like last night, he was burning up.

“You have a fever,” Raphael said.

“I know,” he sighed. “I couldn’t sleep either.” He chuckled tiredly and playfully tapped Raphael on the nose. “Spent the night watching you.”

“I’m not amused, Dante,” Raphael said. “What possessed you to walk out in the storm when you’re feeling ill? The snow almost buried you.”

“We needed firewood, and I wanted to move. I always feel better when I move.”

Raphael pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath to compose himself. In the last few minutes, his heart pounded in distress.

Dante had laid on the cold ground helpless and vulnerable many times before. Raphael had picked him up several times in the past, but he used to be a prince back then. His word could clear danger and bring his precious demon to safety.

Raphael had no such authority anymore. Ever since they escaped Alirie, Dante had taken upon himself most of the jobs that required strength and resilience. He was bound to overwork himself at some point. And Raphael had no resources to ensure his safety anymore.

For the first time, the disadvantages of this life in isolation were frightening.

“I told you to put on your wool hat and button up your coat, and you didn’t listen,” Raphael said in outrage. “Now, you caught a cold.”

“I don’t think it’s a cold,” Dante tentatively placed a hand atop his head. “Something’s not right. There’s this pressure here…”

Raphael put his hand under the covers and tucked his lover carefully from all sides. “Not another word from you. You’re not getting out of bed. I’ll nurse you back to health.”

His demon smiled at him weakly. At least he enjoyed the attention.

Raphael turned his back to the bed and measured the rest of the cabin, making a mental note of all the things he’d have to do today. It was imperative to keep the fire going, so it was up to him to ensure they had firewood. He put on his coat, and Dante immediately perked up.

“No, don’t go out! It’s dangerous for you!”

The rocky column they inhabited was wide enough for a person to take a walk, though, in this low visibility, it would be easy to trip over the edge. Dante was fine since he could fly, but he disallowed Raphael to walk out of the cabin alone if the weather was bad.

“I’ll just get the wood you already chopped,” Raphael said. “It should be enough for now.”

He didn’t wait for an answer and bolted out. The wind howled in his ears again, and his wool hat immediately flew somewhere in the sky. Raphael tried to catch it, but it was gone in a heartbeat. He followed the same trail he made a few minutes ago and picked up the scattered pieces of wood.

It took some more effort to get back, and when he entered the cabin, Dante was sitting up in bed, trying to stand. Raphael dropped the firewood into the storage and grabbed his lover by the shoulders, stopping him.

“Dante, what did I say?!”

“But…”

“It’s visible enough. Relax,” Raphael sighed and gazed at him a little hurt. “Please, stop pushing yourself. You can rely on me.”

Dante finally realized what Raphael was trying to tell him. Natural caretakers rarely stopped to think that those who loved them wanted to take care of them, too. Raphael wanted to show him how much he was loved. Dante nodded and lay back down.

With the fire blazing all day, Raphael started making chicken soup. Even winter came with advantages, as they could use the cold to keep frozen meat for an extended period. Raphael used all the herbs he had, making the soup highly nutritious and filling.

He also prepared an herb concoction he learned recently. His curiosity did not cease after leaving Elden Palace, so he eagerly soaked up every book Dante brought home for him. Now he could put his new knowledge into practice.

“I don’t know if it’s because you used to be royalty,” Dante muttered with a flirtatious look on his flushed face. “But you look so hot when you serve me.”

Raphael smirked. “You could say I fell from grace for you.”

Dante burst out laughing, but his laughter quickly turned into dry coughs. Something wasn’t normal here. He didn’t have the usual symptoms of a cold. He was just deeply fatigued, as though life was draining out of him. Hopefully, the soup would fill him with energy again.

* * *

Dante wasn’t getting better. His fever wasn’t going down, even after a full day. Raphael did everything he knew—he kept him warm in bed all day, gave him nutritious food, and he also made a universal remedy for colds with the herbs he had on hand. Nothing was working. And now, Dante’s breaths have turned into painful wheezing.

There was no end to the snowstorm. Even after sunset, when the window turned black, the walls kept creaking under the intense wind. The fire in the stove cast amber light on Dante’s sweaty, flushed face. After a while, he stopped talking. His condition was getting worse.

“Dante,” Raphael called out. “Say something.”

He wasn’t asleep, but he didn’t seem conscious either. His eyes opened, disoriented and clueless. Like a newborn taking its first look at the world and utterly petrified in fear.

“Let’s drink some water.”

Raphael helped him sit up, but then Dante tensed and stopped breathing. His eyes rolled back and his head lolled to the side. Raphael panicked and slapped him hard across the face.

Strangely enough, this caused his lover to gasp and start breathing again. It brought him back to a limited state of consciousness, but at least he was here.

This wasn’t a cold. Whatever was happening to him, Raphael was powerless. Dante needed professional help, but no physician would come this high in the mountains, much less in this weather. He had to bring him to an emergency center. There was no other way.

“Don’t worry, darling,” he said. “I’ll get you help.”

Raphael brought out their winter coats. He put on several warm layers and did the same for Dante, with no response from him, like dressing a rag doll. He used a rope to lift Dante onto his back and strap him securely, turning him into a makeshift backpack. Finally, Raphael placed a single gas lamp around his neck to light up his way in the night.

The snow outside reached his hips now. The moment he stepped out, the ruthless wind tried to knock him off balance. Raphael stood his ground and put great effort into each step. Dante’s chin lay limply on his right shoulder, and he listened to his painful wheezing the entire way. As heartbreaking as this was, at least he was breathing.

By the time Raphael reached the bridge, his knees were shaking. The rope bridge violently swayed to the side under the merciless force of the storm. And under it—nothing.

Hollow darkness.

His rational mind started making excuses for him to turn back. What if he slipped and fell? He’d be responsible for his and Dante’s death. What if Dante’s condition was only temporary? What if he simply needed more rest, and he’d heal on his own? Demons have always been more resilient than angels. And sometimes, people looked worse just before they got better.

The wheezing in his ear stopped, and a panic attack possessed him once again.

“Wake up!” Raphael slapped him harshly a second time.

Dante twitched against his back, and the wheezing started anew. These selfish excuses had no merit. His lover needed him now more than he ever did. Dante can rely on me.

His mind would repeat this mantra until he reached the village of Cava. Raphael stepped onto the snowy wooden plank and securely held on both sides’ ropes. His boots slipped with every step, but he somehow kept himself from falling.

Every successful step gave him the confidence to move forward. But once he reached the middle, where the force of the wind felt the strongest, Raphael whimpered in fear and dropped to his knees, his hands grasping the railings so hard, as though he wanted to fuse with the ropes.

The bridge was swaying sideways like a swing and Raphael’s stomach swirled, threatening to return that delicious onion stew. He was thankful he couldn’t see the abyss below.

Seeing how being closer to the planks gave him more stability, Raphael took the rest of the bridge with a slow knee walk. He breathed a sigh of relief once he stepped on solid ground again.

“We did it, darling,” he said.

Now came that dreaded narrow path. More snow had piled up. Raphael pressed himself against the wall. Behind him was the same abyss, waiting for him to make one wrong move and send them both to the other side. But once again, the dark obscured it.

Raphael moved onward, slowly, truly feeling the ground beneath one foot before continuing with the next. The freezing wind pierced his coat from the side, and it felt like stabbing with a thousand knives. Fortunately, it also shoved him toward the wall, which in a way kept him a bit more stable.

After a thousand years, Raphael entered the thick forest. Finally, there was no abyss waiting to swallow him after a single misstep. All that was left was the downhill path to the village of Cava. He could barely feel the storm among the trees.

By this time, Raphael’s back was protesting under the strain of carrying Dante’s weight for so long. He always considered himself in good physical shape, but this was taking a toll on him. The snow was still knee-deep, and fresh—no animal tracks in sight, giving the impression he was the only sign of life on this mountain.

Raphael couldn’t see anything beyond his small bubble of light, but he knew the way.

If he could fly, or had any of Dante’s extraordinary abilities, he would have already reached Cava’s overnight medical center. But all he had was his mediocre human strength. And Dante was getting heavier with each step. Raphael’s arms and legs have been numb for a while now, but he stubbornly kept putting one foot in front of the other.

He was almost halfway through the journey when he stepped on a loose rock and slipped forward. He raced towards a tree trunk, which he barely dodged, taking the blow with his chest instead. The sound of breaking glass sounded in the woods.

Raphael slid forward on a steep hill. He kept his arms securely wrapped around his head until he reached the bottom. When he opened his eyes, there was no light.

“No!”

He removed his winter gloves and patted the lamp around his neck, only to cut himself on the broken glass. He had no more light.

The wind sent snowflakes into his eyes. The trees rustled above his head. There wasn’t a single star in the sky. Raphael screamed in frustration, but his voice vanished among the loud howling of the storm. Even if there was no storm, no one would hear him in this empty void.

His eyes filled with tears. Dante saved his life so many times in the past, and he couldn’t do something as small as bringing him to a doctor.

“This is all my fault, isn’t it?” he said, though there was no indication anyone was listening. “If I took better care of you, you wouldn’t be ill. You always do everything and I just try to be a lighter burden on my best days.” Raphael let out a sob. “Why do you even love me?”

Dante didn’t answer, but knowing him, he’d probably slap him for daring to say this. An unpleasant cold scraped against Raphael’s lungs, reminding him that no matter how low his morale was, his idleness was progressively making their situation worse.

Every second he wasted in stillness was detrimental to them both. Mother Nature was cruel. It didn’t wait for anyone to have their breakdown in peace. Death was lurking around, hunting for its next victim. Well, it wouldn’t be Dante. And it wouldn’t be him.

Raphael forced himself back to his feet.

“You can rely on me,” he chanted with newfound confidence. “You can rely on me.”

His knees trembled under the strain, and the tension made his back and head hurt. The short, self-deprecating pause did little to ease the fatigue, but at least it gave his muscles a break. He continued onward with whatever strength he had left.

There was no light, but Raphael’s been on this pathway many times—he could walk it with his eyes closed. He focused on nothing but putting one foot in front of the other. And after an eternity, there was the sparkling light of the lit windows of the nearest houses.

This was Cava.

The streets were empty, no one was outside. Upon opening the door of the emergency center, warmth licked over Raphael’s frozen face and he collapsed at the entrance. Several nurses fussed around him, pulling Dante from his strapped contraption.

Raphael was blind and deaf, but he knew he made it.

* * *

Dante couldn’t sleep last night and this time, it was Raphael’s turn. The village physicians asked him many questions. Something about the last thing his lover ate, the last time he was fully conscious, and something about symptoms. Raphael told them everything he knew before they asked him to get out of the way.

The doctor checked Dante in several places, before giving him a shot of some clear liquid and that was it. Dante was moved to a large room full of mostly empty beds and Raphael sat on his bedside ever since.

Now, it was sunrise.

Morning birds chirped outside the window. The storm had stopped and blessed sunrays made their way into the emergency room. The doctors said Dante would be fine, but Raphael believed it only after watching his lover sleep for a bit. He wasn’t wheezing anymore. He didn’t appear in pain. His fever was down too. He was peaceful, and Raphael finally calmed down.

When Dante awoke, his eyes had sobered up. No sign of last night’s delirium. He looked around, recognizing his surroundings and when they established eye-contact, his lovely demon tensed. There was no mirror here to know for sure, but Raphael must be a mess.

“Did I scare you?” Dante asked.

“Yeah, you did.”

Dante slowly sat up in his hospital bed. He was unconscious throughout most of the action, but there was only one way to end up in the emergency center of Cava. Dante embraced him and Raphael let out a deep sigh. The crisis was over.

“How do you feel?” Raphael asked.

Dante pulled away with an energetic smile. “Much better. Thanks to you.”

Raphael smiled back and held his hand. “Darling, let’s move to Cava. No need to hike the mountain up and down every day. And you’ll be closer to work.”

“The guardians will find us here.”

“Not necessarily. They don’t have a station in Cava. They only visit a few times a year and even that they often skip. We’ll just be more careful.”

Dante remained silent.

As much as Raphael tried to keep up his smile and positive demeanor, on the inside, he was breaking. And it must be visible all over his face.

This was Raphael’s fault. They had to hide because of him. Dante was an enemy of Heaven because of him. Living in isolation was a burden they now had to live with because of him. And this burden almost crushed them both last night.

Raphael squeezed his hand harder and hunched over. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry I caused this. I’m so sorry, darling…”

“I live a thousand times better now than I did in the ghetto,” Dante said, gently caressing the top of Raphael’s head. “I’m used to something always trying to kill me. No matter where I go, the world tests me in the worst ways. So, believe me, it’s not you.”

Raphael looked up. “How do you survive?”

Dante shrugged. “By working hard. By being smart. My abilities usually save me when I’m at my worst. Sometimes it’s sheer luck. And last night it was because I had you.”

Raphael’s heart skipped a beat. Dante smiled at him with all the love in the world, and the former prince was close to crying again.

“I can always rely on you,” Dante said. “Once again, you didn’t disappoint.”

“But I barely made it. What if I can’t get you help next time?”

“Raphael, planning for the future is for people who have a future. We live here and now. It’s all we can afford.” Dante smiled. “Welcome to my world, Your Highness.”

Raphael stared at him in stunned silence. It finally dawned on him that last night was simply one of the many normalities in this new life of a fugitive. They’ve been on the run for over six months and he just now realized how heartbreaking their situation was. This was Dante’s reality ever since he was born.

“Don’t worry,” Dante said, caressing his cheek. “I’ll teach you everything.”

The doctor came for one last examination. He said Dante was all better now and he could leave the emergency center. Raphael and Dante were more than willing to go back home. Dante wouldn’t be going to work soon, so they were looking forward to a day of relaxation.

“Doctor, what was wrong with him?” Raphael asked. “Was it a cold?”

“No,” the doctor said. “He got poisoned.”

Raphael scowled. “What?”

“You said you had onion stew the night before. Where did you get the onions?”

“That herbalist up the mountain.”

The doctor shook his head in disapproval. “What you got wasn’t onions, but lefouda. It’s a different plant that imitates an onion in appearance, taste, and smell. It’s harmless for angels, but when demons consume it, it affects them like slow-working poison.”

Raphael and Dante gaped at the doctor in horror. How did neither of them know about this? Things like this should be public knowledge. But once again, no one cared to discuss demon healthcare. Once again, someone suffered from people’s ignorance.

“Here’s a piece of advice—if a herbalist can’t tell the difference between lefouda and onion, buy nothing from them,” the doctor said.

“My cooking poisoned you,” Raphael muttered.

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t know,” Dante hurried to say. “I didn’t know either. And I ate a lot of onions growing up. Holy shit, have I been lucky all this time?”

“There are few things I don’t know and this just had to be one of them,” Raphael glared and buried his face in a palm. “That’s it. I’m growing our herbs from now on.”

“You keep piling up hobbies, huh?” Dante chuckled.

“You’re lucky we had an antidote,” the doctor spoke again. “Since they closed Jaziel Hana’s labs, no one else has made medicine for demons. This was the last spare dose.”

In the early morning, Raphael and Dante headed back up the mountain trail. The sky was blue, and the air was still. They walked in silence, holding hands, and thinking hard about the things they have done back in the capital and how they changed the world.

They shut down Jaziel Hana’s institution for the awful things he had done, but this was still the only institution making medicine for demons. Medicine for angels was efficient on demons, but certain cases were exclusive to demons.

No doubt somewhere in the world some unlucky demon was in the same situation as Dante, getting poisoned by a lethal plant they mistook for an onion. This demon received no medicine, suffered, and died because Raphael and Dante sent Jaziel Hana to prison.

“We did the right thing,” Dante said.

“I know,” Raphael replied.