“Get out.”

He is falling in slow motion, pale blue sky becoming a blur along with pearl white clouds.

The sparkling, golden gates of Heaven fade from his sight, and he hits the Earth.

His wings, once as pure as the snow on the highest mountaintop, turn pitch black.

As black as the night that conceals his heart.

He hits the Earth, and crashes through, continues falling.

His long hair slowly turns from chestnut to chocolate.

He smashes through each circle of Hell, until he reaches the Ninth.

The Ninth and utmost circle of Hell.

Where he awaits.

The Emperor of Hell.

If Heaven has a King, then it is only fitting for Hell to have an Emperor.

Yoon Jeonghan smiles.

He could not care less.

---

He lounges lazily on the plush velvet couch in the Throne Room.

“Hansol,” he says quietly.

“Milord?” a boy with wavy hair asks, bowing slightly.

His gaze is cold and bright as he gazes out the window at the falling star.

“Bring him to me.”

“Yessir.”

As Hansol turns out of the room, Wen Junhui cannot help but wonder…

What has he done to fall from Heaven?