Joonmyeon was passing through the Han River on the way home. Rain was falling and thick fog covered the streets of Seoul but he didn't care. Although the fog made it impossible to see clearly, Joonmyeon noticed a sudden movement and he snapped his head to the left. He saw what appeared to be a large angel on a monument rose to full height. His torso was , his feet were bare, and trousers hung low on his hips. He hopped off the monument and headed towards Joonmyeon.                            

He started to feel tense and backed away slowly. "Who's there?"

The boy didn't answer but his mouth crept into a smile.

"I'll ask you one more time," he said in a low voice, wiping a hand down his face to wipe away the rain. "Who are you?"

The boy walked up to him and Joonmyeon saw a clearer vision. He suddenly looked older than Joonmyeon had expected, probably a year or two older than him. "One of the devil's progeny," he answered.

Joonmyeon felt a wring of fear in his stomach. "You're a lunatic," he said through his teeth. "Get out of my way."

The ground beneath Joonmyeon tilted. Bursts of gold and red popped behind his eyes. He looked up at the boy, blinking and gasping, trying to make sense of what was happening.

The boy looked back at him. "Listen carefully. I need something from you. I won't leave until I have it. Do you understand?"

Joonmyeon shook his head in disbelief. He tried to spit at the boy, but it trickled down his chin, his tongue refusing to obey him.

"I need your oath," the boy said. "Bend on one knee and swear it."

Joonmyeon wanted to laugh harshly, but his throat constricted and he choked. His right knee distorted  as if kicked from behind, though no one was there, and he fell forward.

"Swear it," the boy repeated.

He had no idea how, but the boy was enforcing sickness and weakness inside him. It would not end until he took the oath. He decided to say what he had to, but he swore in his heart he would destroy the boy for this humiliation.

"Lord, I become your man." Joonmyeon said resentfully.

The boy raised Joonmyeon to his feet. "Meet me here every time the moon shines fully. I'll need you service."

"Who are you to order me?" Joonmyeon trembled in rage.

"You are a Nephil," the boy said and slivered a smile.

Joonmyeon had an offensive retort on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it. His next words were spoken with toxin. "What did you say?"

"You belong to the race of Nephilim. You real father was an angel who fell from heaven. You're half mortal," the boy's dark eyes met Joonmyeon's, "and half fallen angel."

Joonmyeon knew what a Nephilim was. An unusual race created when angels thrown from heaven mated with mortal women, a fearsome and powerful race. A chill crept through Joonmyeon. "Who are you?"

The boy turned, walking away. Although Joonmyeon wanted to go after him, he couldn't command his legs to stand. He just kneeled there, blinking up, he saw two huge scars on the back of the boy's torso. They formed an upside-down V.

"Are you... fallen?" he called out. "Your wings have been stripped, haven't they?"

The boy-angel-whoever he was did not turn back. Joonmyeon didn't need the confirmation.

"The service I'm going to provide," he shouted "I need to know what it is!"

The air echoed with the boy's low laughter.