He had ditched school for a week now. Words was getting out that Taemin might had fallen ill that he didn’t even bother try to come out of his room.

 

They were right. He had fallen ill… from loss.

 

It was the loss of Minho; the loss of that other half being by his side at school; the loss that haunted Taemin so deeply that it was almost impossible for the young Angel to forget.

 

It was merely impossible for him to forget that Minho may be dying if he does not get the blood from an Angel.

 

He gritted his teeth angrily. He was enraged at his Father, the Duke, for doing such a thing to his own son. How could he? Minho is his son! He understood that he had went and crossed the line of letting him escape but to the point where he may want to kill anybody in sight or perhaps himself from the lack of blood was just painful for him to bear. It was painful to know that his friend was suffering and he can do nothing about it.

 

Unless, he began to think, biting his lip as he lay in his bed, the mattress up to his chin. Then he shook his head.

 

Jonghyun-appa would not let me…I doubt he would…

 

He sat up in bed, looking around and noticing the emptiness. He looked to his nightstand, where a new vase stood (since it was Jonghyun’s fault for knocking it over), but the rose remained.

 

He gently took it into his hand and admired the unmoving object. How long has it been? Has it been a month, two perhaps?

 

Look.

 

The color is still the same.

 

Never-ending pulse, never dying rose with never-changing color. All of these are endless, infinite, purely something that could never go away. He touched the petals: still soft. His eyes softened as it reminded him of Minho—it always does. Satisfied, but not satisfied, he put the orange-red glowing rose back into its original location.

 

…

 

Perhaps one more day of ditching school will do. This will be the last of him staying ‘bedridden’ in his lonely bedroom.

 

He wished Krystal was by his side all the time—like she was back then when he was younger. She has so much work piling up on her desk that he took pity on her. She takes thing too seriously nowadays that he wished that she would loosen up and have fun with him.

 

But then again, when had the Angels stopped being so serious? He does not even remember the time when they had been so carefree—serious, but still willing to pour themselves a cup or something of the sorts.

 

The shorthaired boy sighed, fondling with his newly styled hair, in which he asked from a female servant when she came in to serve his breakfast. She was a nice one, he would admit, to do this for him. Yes, she was surprised to see that his usual long hair was gone. In fact, everyone in the castle was surprised – even the Goddess.

 

Yet none bothered to ask, as they assumed that he must have done it for a grave reason, an upsetting one. They knew that the decision came within his personal, private life, and they must not push themselves into it, in fear that Taemin will grow upset and mourn from that said reason.

 

Nevertheless, he would not.

 

Taemin smiled to himself, running his fingers against the mattress, feeling the softness underneath his skin.

 

Of course, he would not.

 

He should not cry over such a petty thing that meant to elapse centuries ago. He had been holding onto his burden for too long and he knew it was time to let it go.

 

…But that is not important now, the young angel thought as his lips curled downward into a small frown. What matters is Minho-hyung.

 

He needs to help him, even if it means giving up his blood, body and soul to save him. Even if it means his only Demon friend enslaving him, the only thing that matters is Minho staying alive.

 

Now, now, Taemin, a voice echoed in his head, startling the shorthaired brunet. It was a female’s voice. You must not hurt yourself with too much thinking.

 

“Huh?” He looked over at the desk to see the book that he had snuck out from the area underneath the passage door in the lower levels. It sat there, immobile, but its silver carving shimmered brightly. Ah, right, he nodded to himself; I need to read more of that.

 

He swung his legs over, his bare feet touching the cold tiled floor, which brought the chilling sensation through the nerves in his legs as he walked over to the desk. He placed his hand on the cool metal of the front cover, feeling the twists and curves.

 

Pulling the chair back, he sat in it, his brown irises glued to the book in front of him. He could only stare at it. Why was he not opening it? He does not have a clue. He read a bit before—why was he holding back?

 

Go on, Taemin. That voice again! Taemin wanted to know why is this person in his head and why has she came into mind now.

 

…It does not matter, does it?

 

Of course it does.

 

With slightly trembling fingers, he opened the book. There was a line underneath the message from the first page where he started.

 

With a light heart, he continued from that point.

 

❝I fear for the future… I fear for the day that it will come. It is coming soon—the end of everything. The Goddess and the Duke does not know this is coming, but only I know—for I am the goddess of time, the goddess of nature and life. Without me, there is no peace.❞

 

Taemin’s eyebrows furrowed at this message. Without her, there is no peace? He decided to read the rest:

 

❝Seeing the Duke happily talk with the Goddess pains my heart. I love them both, but the day that is coming will tear us all apart. ❞

 

What is that day? The brunet had no idea what she’s talking about nor what she is trying to say in the book. If he could, he would have gone back into time to find out ‘the day’ that she’s talking about.

 

Continue reading, Taemin, he thought to himself, just continue to read.

 

❝The chosen Seraphim will save us from the deception and hate that is bound to appear in this world. I shall secure the power until he learns of his past, and the truth as well.❞

 

“Seraphim…” He had heard of that race before, but very few to nonexistence barely appeared. He then read aloud the last sentence.

 

❝Even in peaceful times, Demons and Angels must learn their mistakes…and the results from them.❞

 

She wrote on the same day when this person met up with the Goddess and the Duke.

 

“This is crazy talk,” Taemin muttered under his breath, sealing the book abruptly with a loud slam. “Why did I carry this book when I can’t understand half the things she’s saying?”

 

Just why did you, then? The angel looked out the window and let out a silent puff. …I do not know. This book just gave me the feeling that I should take it with me…

 

“…Tomorrow, I’ll go back to school.”

 

He said that with a smile on his face, but his heart held an uneasy feeling.

 

Something about tomorrow just does not feel right.

 

 

As he first took step through the gates, the first thing he saw were the eyes of the students. Angels and Demons students were all looking at him equally.

 

This reminded him of his first day in his first year.

 

Then the whispers emerged. He scowled, hearing the low buzzing as he walked down the campus.

 

He hated it.

 

He hated it.

 

He hated getting attention ever since his first year. Ever since, he came out as the Goddess’ child. He scoffed at the quotes of him resembling his Mother.

 

He and his mother looked nothing alike.

 

He hated how everyone acted so differently around him: Angels gathering around him as if he is popular, Demons mocking him as if he is a disease –Taemin hated all of those.

 

Yet, he could do nothing to stop that. Even if he had the power to do so, he would doubt it would change anything at all.

 

A glimpse of black hair from the distance caught his eye. He looked to see that familiar person that made his lips curl up into a bright grin.

 

“Minho-hyung!” He called out, waving his hand in the air. He expected the male to turn and smile at him and do the same, but he did not. It was as if he neglected his existence. His grin faltered and his hand lowered; his eyes were full of hurt and worry, both mingling together.

 

“Isn’t it obvious? Minho used Taemin!”

 

“Tsk, poor kid. He learnt from the best.”

 

He clenched his fists and turned to the whispering group of Angels. “Hey,” he yelled out, startling them.

 

“Minho-hyung didn’t use me.”

 

“But he just ignored you! He didn’t even ask what happened to you over the past week!” One of them told him, eyebrows knitted in worry and annoyance, frustrated at Taemin for not getting the hint that he need to open up his eyes and believe the fact that all of this was merely an act.

 

…What? He wanted to say that, but he merely scowled and turned away from them.

 

He could feel his white, pure heart pounding in pain with each step he took.

 

“That,” he whispered to himself, “Can’t be true, can it…?”

 

He did not want to know.

 

He did not want to believe that this had been all an act.

 

He had not realized that he bumped into someone. He fell back a little and shook his head before looking up at the person. His eyes widen when he saw Minho looking down at him.

 

However, it just was not the same.

 

This Minho is too unsympathetic.

 

So unkind, that he could feel the chills right in the core of his soul.

 

What is more is his eyes… why were his eyes so emotionless and dull?

 

“Move,” Taemin flinched at his voice.

 

Even his tone sounded so emotionless.

 

“Minho-hyung…” he called out, his hand hesitating for a bit before reaching out to touch his arm, only to have him slap it away, a loud sound emerging from it.

 

The demon glared at the brunet who held his slapped hand to his chest. “Who told you to touch me?”

 

The young angel bit his bottom lip to prevent tears from spilling over. His heart was aching as he averted his glossy gaze from the male to the floor, eying the demon’s black boots and his white leather high sneakers.

 

Key-umma…Jonghyun-appa…where are you when I need you? He thought to himself as he let out a soft whimper.

 

“Sorry—”

 

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it. So I suggest you move now or regret your decision.” Minho growled underneath his breath, his dull irises flickering orange-red. Taemin was more than glad that they were the only two in this empty corridor—he did not want to face the criticism and gossip that was already happening outside.

 

With a slow nod, he stepped aside, giving room for the latter to pass. He heard him let out a satisfied low hum before footsteps rang out in the corridor, fading away until there’s only the rigid breathing of the angel in the lonely hallway, the sunlight shining through the windows, the trees shadowing the floor.

 

Despite everything, he, who is all alone, stood in the darkness of the wall that blocked away the sun. His head hung low, bangs covering his teary eyes; his reddened hand caressed by the other, held closely to his chest as he stood there, feet rooted to the ground.

 

One tear fell.

 

No…

 

His body trembled, and his fingers curled, turning into fists. He could feel his wings tucking into his back deeper, feeling its bones pressing against his skin.

 

His body shook again, and his wings rustled, the shivers running throughout his body.

 

It cannot be… it cannot be happening…

 

Another tear slid down his rosy, porcelain cheek.

 

“I just… forgot to look at the rose,” he told himself, trying so hard to block out a single word of what the Angel told him this morning. “Yes…it must be that. I wasn’t prepared enough.”

 

Lies…

 

He shook his head, his back leaning against the wall as he defied a word what the offending voice in his head had told him. “No, it’s not. He didn’t lie.” His fingers reached down the silver chain on his wrist. He never got back the pendant.

 

Yes he did, Taemin.

 

He shook his head frantically. Sure, call him crazy. Nonetheless, he could not comprehend what was happening right now. Had he been out of school for too long? Had something happened? Minho looked far from okay.

 

What is more, Jonghyun was not near by his side at all…

 

Where is he?

 

“It’s just the curse, Taemin,” he told himself again, sliding down to the floor as tears fell down his cheeks. “It’s just the stupid curse’s effect. Maybe Jonghyun’s help was not strong enough. He’s out of control now!” He let out a bitter, insane laugh.

 

Had Minho infected him? Perhaps so…

 

Poor child, Taemin could hear the voices echoing in his head, He should have learnt better than to trust a Demon.

 

Poor, poor child. He is never going back, is he?

 

Poor child had lost his purity.

 

“I haven’t! Not at all! I’m still me!” Taemin cried out in vain. He could care less if the bell had rung. He forgotten the fact that he must not skip class—he could care less.

 

Poor Taemin, trapped in a world of lies.

 

“I’m not trapped!” He yelled out, his voice echoing in the empty hallway as he clutched onto his hair. Flashes of the demon’s face appeared before his eyes.

 

He liked how his eyes were so warm and his smiles were so gentle to him. His touch was soft and soothing…

 

He did not like how this Minho acted around him.

 

It is just the curse’s effect, Taemin. Minho will be back…

 

He will be back; he would come back to me, right?

 

Taemin covered his eyes with both of his hands, sobbing as he buried his head into his knees.

 

What if…

 

Taemin wailed as he shook his head, trying his best to deny everything.

 

Is it true everything was a play, after all?