2. Mark: Demonkin

The hardest part of Limbo to get used to was the smell. After several years in Hell, Mark was so used to the scent of fire and all of its related odors—sulfur, smoke, ash, and any combination of burning debris—that it was almost painful to be without it. If there wasn't still a tinge of it coming from his skin, he'd feel almost homesick. Still, he was pretty sure he could scrub for the rest of his life and that lingering smoke would still be with him.

Limbo, in comparison, had some sort of an ink and parchment scent underlain by a slight aroma that was...clinical, is what he thought they might have called it back on Earth. It reminded him vaguely of a hospital waiting room, chemical and clean and slightly uncomfortable. Since it was Limbo, he supposed that was what they were going for. They weren't supposed to be too happy about being here, nor too upset.

The presence of the Seraph was also difficult to get used to. His white wings were just too striking; it felt like no matter where Mark looked, those feathers were fluttering in the corner of his vision. In a way, they were nostalgic. They looked soft to the touch and pillowy, just like the Abominable Snowman plushie his little sister had used to carry around with her, the one they'd both used to snuggle their faces into on cold winter days. Thinking of that made him want to prostrate himself before the angel and his cloak of whiteness and beg for understanding. Please forgive me for all the sins that brought me here, I'm begging you. I can't live with my memories anymore. But he had a feeling that the Seraph would only look down at him in scorn. He didn't seem to be a very forgiving type, even for one who dwelled in Heaven.

He was certainly beautiful, though. The Seraphim looked like they got the better end of the deal over Demonkin with their finely made clothing and soft, touchable wings. The only two things about this Seraph that weren't light were his coal black hair and brown eyes, but both of those suited him as well. It kept him from seeming too overbearingly blinding and warm, and gave him a little bit of an unapproachable air, which Mark appreciated. He was pretty sure being tempted to approach would earn him a swift kick in the gut and a lecture on trying to leak his darkness onto a truly pure being.

While he was here, he'd have to remember to keep his darkness to himself.

Youngjae, the Median, returned a few minutes later accompanied by an unsteady figure. The other man had a handsome face, but was still bleary eyed—he must have been a newly awakened soul.

“I thought I'd introduce you to the subject of your dispute,” Youngjae said, patting the man gently on his back. “This is Im Jaebum.”

Mark wasn't sure 'nice to meet you' was appropriate thing to say to someone who was freshly dead, so gave a brief nod instead. The Seraph thought for a moment and did the same.

Jaebum tried to prop himself off of Youngjae a little. “So this is really Limbo?” he asked in a quiet voice. “Limbo is really a place?”

Youngjae nodded. “It's not so bad. Unless you really hate paperwork, then it's kind of bad. But one hundred years goes by quickly here. You'll be out in no time and straight up to Heaven.”

“Huh.” Jaebum looked at the Seraph's white wings, and then to Mark's leathery black ones. “And one of these guys wants to take me to Heaven right now, and the other one wants to take me to Hell?”

“That's not how it's supposed to work,” Youngjae said softly. “Your life dictates where you'll go, and you're supposed to be right here. So I'm not going to let you go anywhere else, okay? I know you probably want to go to Heaven, but the time won't go by too slowly here. You'll be there soon.”

“It's all right,” Jaebum said in a tired voice, leaning back into Youngjae. “It's fine. I did some horrible things to get to this point. I shouldn't be going to Heaven right now. But those little girls were okay, right?”

“Yes. They were fine.” Youngjae glanced at Mark and the Seraph. “See, he thinks it's fair. Do you have any further arguments?”

“Just that I have to stay here unless you change your mind,” the Seraph said.

Mark didn't say anything. Truthfully, he was happy to stay. Hell wasn't 24/7 punishments, but it wasn't a picnic either. When demons weren't being ordered around by the Hyde Club, the governing body under The Corrupted One, they were left to wander the pit fires where the hissing steam whispered their failures and sins in a never-ending stream. They couldn't sleep, and even talking among themselves was frowned upon. They were supposed to feel alone in their eternal torment, and making friends was entirely counterproductive to that.

And Hakyeon, the Hyde Club's leader, had expressly told him he wasn't allowed to come back without the soul in question. “It's a symbolic thing for The Corrupted One,” he'd explained. “Out of all the people who died in the fire, this guy's case was the most ambiguous. The Corrupted One wants to show The Divine One that one moment of good doesn't outweigh a life of bad, and that bad far outranks good on the Earth. If we can get this guy, The Divine One will truly realize he's losing.”

And we'll be able to conquer Heaven. Those were the words Hakyeon left dangling. Because anyone who'd had a taste of Hell inevitably longed for the divine paradise. It was never vocalized, but everyone knew that was the ultimate goal all the power plays between Heaven and Hell were leading up to.

Mark wasn't sure if Heaven was right for him, or if he was destined to be a part of Hell forever. He just knew that, right now, he wouldn't mind a good hundred years in Limbo to recover before he went back to his same old torment and life among the scent of flames.

“It seems you'll be staying until one hundred years are up or until your delegation calls you back, then,” Youngjae said, seeming strangely unconcerned at the prospect of taking care of a stray Seraph and Demonkin for the next century. “Although the demon may have to stay longer, because Jaebum won't be going to Hell at the end of the hundred years. I will personally see to that, if need be.”

Mark shrugged. Maybe he'd get a lifetime stay in Limbo out of this after all.

“If I'm staying here, won't I need a room or somewhere to sleep?” the Seraph asked.

Mark blinked. “You sleep?”

The Seraph bristled. “Of course I sleep. Everyone knows that sleeping strengthens the endurance of the soul.”

“We don't sleep in Limbo either,” Youngjae said. “I mean, we're dead, we technically don't need to. I heard it still feels good to sleep, though. We just don't have time for that here.” He considered for a moment. “There's the guest bedroom for dignitaries, I suppose. You two could have that.”

The Seraph paused. “Excuse me. Did you just say the two of us?”

“Why not? I'm sure the Demonkin would love to get some sleep, since the moment he's welcome back to Hell, he won't be having any for the remainder of his existence. And there's only one bedroom.”

“I don't think that's going to work,” the Seraph persisted. “I've heard malevolence coming from demons is toxic to angels. Can't you find some other-”

“Pardon me, Your Magnificence,” Youngjae said in a loud voice. “I believe I am allowing you to remain in a domain where you don't even belong rather than sending you right back up to Heaven for you to be imprisoned by The Divine One or his Ace minionettes for failing your mission, so I shouldn't be hearing you complain about something as small as sharing a bedroom with someone. If you're going to press the point, I could easily assign you to record keeping for one hundred years if you'd find that more entertaining, or I could call up the Ace of Angels right this very minute and see what Yunaria has to say about your whining after you completely failed to convince me to let you take Jaebum to Heaven. What'll it be?”

The Seraph shrunk back, suddenly seeming a lot less imposing and elegant than he had earlier.

“Let's see this bedroom,” he said softly. “I'm sure it will suit me perfectly.”

The bedroom was a little bit bigger than Mark had thought it would be, though there wasn't much actually there other than two single beds and a washbin stationed between them. At the very least, they would have some room to move about, or so Youngjae told them. Mark doubted the Seraph was going to move away from the farthest spot in the room from where Mark himself was standing.

He didn't blame the Seraph for hating him. He was supposed to hate the Seraph, too, for having all the splendors of Heaven that Mark would never touch. But hating took far too much energy, and he didn't understand why he was supposed to resent the Seraphim for living the good life that he hadn't. He'd only had himself to blame for so much of what had brought him here.

Mark took the bed on the left side of the room and sat down on it. He'd forgotten how soft mattresses could be. He could tell he was going to thoroughly enjoy sleeping here later, but for now, he wasn't really interested in dozing off in the middle of an awkward atmosphere.

“So,” Mark began, causing the Seraph to jolt in surprise, then bristle his wings in what Mark assumed was supposed to be a threatening manner. “Do you have a name?”

“Everyone has a name,” the Seraph responded coldly.

“Yeah, and it's much easier to call them by that name than to keep saying Hey, Seraph.” When the Seraph didn't answer, Mark tried again. “You can call me Mark, for example.”

“Mark,” the Seraph repeated. “That's not a demon-like name. Shouldn't it be something like Maoumark or Malmark or Beelzemark?”

Mark snorted. “No one actually does that. Even the members of the Hyde Club, our ruling council, don't give themselves evil sounding nicknames. They have nicknames all right, but I don't think something like 'Ken' sounds very threatening. What, is your name something like Gabriel or Cassiel?”

The Seraph shook his head indignantly. “No, it's Jinyoung.”

Mark grinned. Got it. “Jiniel?” he asked, just to be obnoxious.

“You heard what I said.” At long last, Jinyoung tentatively sat down on the bed. “Look, Demonkin-”

“Also known as Mark.”

“Mark. I don't know what they tell you down in Hell, but I don't see how this arrangement is going to work out. Your very being is toxic to me. If we stay here together for the full hundred years, I could be corrupted.”

“You look pretty incorruptible to me.”

“I'm serious,” Jinyoung said softly this time. “Our peoples aren't supposed to live in the same place, it just doesn't happen. If your darkness taints me, I'm never going to be welcomed back home. I'll have to live forever...in Hell.”

His voice was so bleak that Mark felt a little bad for him. Apparently Jinyoung hadn't lived the sort of life where he'd needed to contemplate living in fire pits and dwelling on his own flaws, and having to contemplate it now wasn't painting him a very pretty picture.

“Someone like you has nothing to worry about in Hell,” Mark said finally. “Half the agony of being there is having your sins listed to you over and over again. I'm sure you hardly have a sin worth mentioning if you were able to become a Seraph. And whatever sin you did have to listen to would be something simple like 'Remember the time you forgot to take the trash out when Mom told you to?'”

Jinyoung snorted a little. “I'm still not interested in living in a pit of fire.”

“Fair enough. But don't worry, the thing about being able to corrupt you by proximity is a myth.”

Jinyoung looked surprised. “Is it?”

“Yeah. Two hundred years or so ago, a representative Demonkin and Seraph got together with the Median at the time to freshen up some of the accords existing between our three realms. The Demonkin and Seraph spent about fifty years together with no sign of corruption either way.” Mark slid a hand over his chest. “I've heard the only way for someone like you to fall from grace is to stain your soul.”

“And how would I do that?”

“By committing a sin against Heaven. Which might be easier than it sounds. The Divine One has a few sins in his book that I don't think are sins at all.”

“Like what?”

Like the reason I ended up dead, Mark thought to himself. But he didn't really need Jinyoung asking about that right now. “I shouldn't tell you,” he said. “Who knows if even thinking about them will stain your soul or not?”

Jinyoung made a face, but didn't press him further.

“So,” Mark asked, shifting the subject. “Are you going to argue with Youngjae over Jaebum?”

“I have to,” Jinyoung said. “I was assigned to this case, so I can't just give up. I don't think he'll listen, though. And he's right. Jaebum belongs in Limbo.”

“Which is exactly why it seems so sketchy that our big bosses are trying to insist otherwise. Not just on his case, but on several others.”

Jinyoung's wings fluttered a bit in agitation. “I...don't really like questioning my superiors.”

“I do,” Mark said. “I mean, it's pretty obvious what The Corrupted One is up to. He's lowering morale in Heaven while at the same time building an army of demons ticked off at ending up at Hell for minor sins that they could have had cleansed in Limbo.”

“You're telling this directly to an angel?”

Mark shrugged. “I said it was obvious. It's not as if your Divine One doesn't know. I bet his angle on this is to form his own counter-army by rushing souls up to Heaven, particularly before Limbo makes them tired of the afterlife and more ready to pass on. That's why you're a Seraph, right? You didn't spend any time in Limbo.”

“How would you know?” Jinyoung quipped.

“You're as lost here as I am. I'm not blind.” Mark toyed with the bedspread beneath his fingers. “I wonder why The Divine One and the Ace haven't sealed off the Pool of Rebirth so they aren't losing so many potential souls for their army?”

“That's completely against our accords-”

“So is what both Heaven and Hell are doing to get more souls in their realm. It's all completely against the rules, but they're doing it anyways.”

“The cycle of rebirth is sacred to flow of souls,” Jinyoung tried again. “It's not something anyone can safely disrupt.”

“Unless we really do go to war.”

“Please, don't talk like that. We have no lives to stake things on anymore.”

“But we have causes worth staking eternity on.”

Mark yawned a little. He'd gotten used to not sleeping, but being on a mattress naturally made him want to sleep. There were so many human instincts he'd never forgotten that sometimes he wondered if he was a proper demon after all. Not only was he ready to sleep now, but he felt an old feeling of hunger crawling around in the pit of his belly. He'd heard that the angels had fruits in their pretty little gardens, so maybe Jinyoung would con them a nice breakfast out of Youngjae, too.

“Look,” Mark said. “I don't know how long we're going to be here before someone changes their mind and sends for us, but it's going to be awhile. Time doesn't have as much meaning for the Ace or the Hyde Club as it does to all the humans on Earth. You and I are going to be the two outcasts in Limbo for a good, long time. Why can't we have a truce?”

“A truce,” Jinyoung repeated.

“Yeah. While we're here, we won't engage in any of this angel versus demon stuff with each other. Let's just enjoy an extended break from our whipping boy jobs to Ace and Hyde and not fight, okay?”

For some reason, Mark was almost certain Jinyoung was going to say no just to spite him, but at long length the angel cleared his throat and ruffled his wings in a sort of dignified manner, as if he were the one deigning to be kind to Mark and not the other way around. “Fair enough. Out of respect for us both being humans at one point, I'll overlook your nature as Demonkin for now. Just don't try anything funny on me or trick me into staining my soul, all right?”

Mark's face broke out into a wide grin. “You have my word, Seraph.”