Instead of living in the palaces of Hell, Lucifer had come to the mortal world to live in a small house. This kind of thing would have been absolutely impossible in the past. Whether it was Lucifer or his other persona, Satan, they were both hedonists who never shortchanged themselves. However, after finding a lover, Lucifer realized that the palace was too large and made him feel lonely. The small house was carefully managed by his own hands, no matter where he looked, everything seemed more pleasing to the eye.
Thinking this, Lucifer's mind wandered, and his gaze softened. His daydreaming was so obvious that the demons and fallen angels attending the meeting below exchanged knowing glances.
【His Majesty is thinking about his lover again?】
【That Yahweh really has some charm, tsk tsk.】
【...】
【Beelzebub is still staring at His Majesty.】
【Asmodeus and Beelzebub are two peas in a pod, always daydreaming during meetings.】【Careful, His Majesty is looking over here!】
Lucifer glanced at his subordinates, their minds filled with dirty thoughts. The fallen angels would guiltily avert their gaze, while the demons were simply shameless, wearing expressions of open curiosity. Lucifer didn’t mind their interest in Yahweh’s situation; after all, Yahweh's beauty had long been the talk of Hell. These demons were probably itching with desire, eager to catch a glimpse of the legendary silver-haired beauty who had captivated Satan himself.
"Yahweh won’t be coming to Hell anytime soon."
Just before the meeting ended, Lucifer casually mentioned this, immediately causing the demons to look disappointed.
Baal, rubbing his hands together, suggested, "Isn’t Hell known for hosting many festivals that celebrate beauty? Why not bring Yahweh to one, Your Majesty?"
Lucifer simply stared at him calmly.
Three minutes later, Baal was drenched in cold sweat, realizing that Lucifer intended to keep Yahweh hidden and protected.
Fine, no need to see him then!
He would just wait for the next holy war—surely Yahweh would appear! After all, Yahweh was the perfect counter to Satan. Heaven wouldn’t simply hide Yahweh away just to coddle him.
Before leaving, Samael approached Lucifer and whispered lightly, "Your Majesty, you haven’t attended to your official duties in quite some time… I was thinking…"
Lucifer cut him off, placing a hand on his shoulder.
It felt like he was entrusting him with his trust.
"Samael, I trust you."
Samael felt like he was bleeding internally.
Being Hell's second-in-command was no easy job. Above him was His Majesty, who had recently become quite the carefree spirit, and below him were demons who were difficult to manage. At least Beelzebub used to help share the burden, but now that Beelzebub had realized Samael was trying to pair up Yahweh with His Majesty, he had outright turned his back on him and refused to help any longer.
Lucifer had stylishly gone off to enjoy his date.
In the palace, Samael's gaze darkened as he looked at Beelzebub, who was calmly organizing notes. Beelzebub let out a cold chuckle, "Good luck."
Sensing the bad atmosphere, Belial quickly grabbed the confused Leviathan and hurried out of the area.
Asmodeus, trying to smooth things over for his companion, said, "Beelzebub, Samael was only acting in His Majesty’s best interests. While we can’t exactly forgive him, we can begrudgingly understand."
Samael, exhausted, asked, "You think that too?"
Asmodeus sighed, "What can I say? You’ve set us up with a rival in love. Without Yahweh, we might have had a chance, you know."
He stomped away heavily.
Beelzebub remained seated in his spot from the meeting, covering his face with both hands, and exclaimed in frustration, "I just can't bring myself to like Yahweh at all!"
Asmodeus shrugged. "It’s only been a few years. Just wait. With His Majesty's personality... conflicts are bound to happen eventually. Have you forgotten what happened with Samael and Lilith? They were head over heels for each other, and in the end, they broke up after a huge fallout."
In his view, His Majesty needed a partner who could tolerate all of him, not the other way around.
Yahweh was too pure; he could never soothe His Majesty’s heart.
"Just wait."
Beelzebub's eyes, visible through the gaps between his fingers, held a cold glint. Clearly, his feelings toward Yahweh were more than just rejection—they were a deep-seated desire to see him gone for good.
_______
In a small forest in the mortal realm, Lucifer hadn’t even entered the house but already knew that Yahweh wasn’t there.
If his lover were present, the place would be brimming with vitality—birds singing, and even the air would be filled with a pure, vibrant energy.
He opened the windows of the small house, letting the sunlight warm the inside. This way, when they rested at night, the bedding would be softer, and Yahweh wouldn’t mind so much about things like missing clothes. Lucifer particularly enjoyed seeing Yahweh wrapped in the blankets, burying his head inside, refusing to come out no matter what.
As if it was such an embarrassing thing.
Actually—
You just get used to it.
Lucifer mentally added this thought about Yahweh's behavior while reminiscing about amusing moments. As he tidied up the room, he casually picked up a pair of undergarments left at the corner of the bed. The pure white underwear in his hands was incredibly light. Angels, who typically dressed in long robes, disliked wearing restrictive inner garments and would only put on underwear when wearing pants.
Lucifer rubbed the edge of the fabric with a faint smile. Flipping it over, he noticed a faint trace of golden liquid left in the center.
Yahweh was beautiful in every way.
Even the things that came from him were surprisingly golden.
Of course, these undergarments should be destroyed—better to avoid Yahweh getting angry and refusing to let him touch him there again.
As he waited for his lover to return, Lucifer leisurely made the bed, adding a few items to the wardrobe—things like intimate clothing, along with painting supplies and a canvas. Recently, Lucifer had developed a bit of an interest in honing the painting skills he hadn’t had the chance to perfect back in Heaven.
The subject of Lucifer’s artistic practice was, of course, none other than the extraordinarily beautiful Yahweh. Just imagining Yahweh lying on a bed scattered with flowers, a simple white robe draped over his body, with the traces of their recent lovemaking still visible beneath him—what a captivating image it would be. His golden eyes would remain pure and untainted, even by the throes of passion, unable to lose that aura of absolute light. His long silver hair would cascade off the bed and onto the rug below. What a breathtaking scene that would make for a painting.
Lucifer's fingers brushed across his chin as he looked around the neatly arranged room, murmuring to himself, "What’s still missing?"
What was missing had just arrived.
Yahweh entered, dressed in the formal attire required of a Seraphim. His overly long silver hair had been tied back with a crown or a ribbon, as was required, so that the little angels in Heaven wouldn’t accidentally step on it. The outfit was so ornate and complicated that as Yahweh passed through the mortal realm on his way here, he had to occasionally lift his robes to prevent them from being caught on tree branches or stones.
Along the way, countless creatures had stared at him in awe.
Yahweh, a bit confused, wondered, Do I look bad? But Mettatron had told him that his presence was comparable to Lucifer’s former splendor when he walked the earth.
Though in Yahweh’s heart, Lucifer was the most beautiful of all.
Unbeknownst to him, Yahweh’s sense of aesthetics had shifted. Lucifer had been created in the exact image that Yahweh found most appealing. No matter how beautiful other divine beings were, Yahweh didn’t think they could surpass Lucifer in any way. After all, even the laws themselves had once said Yahweh had inadvertently created a "miracle."
Lucifer’s perfection, if placed in any other realm with a Creator God, would have been impossible as mere creation.
And yet—
God created Lucifer under the guise of creation, but everyone knew the truth. After witnessing God's endless favoritism toward Lucifer, even the Laws had given up trying to argue with the willful Creator. As long as you’re happy, they thought.
Seeing the windows of the house wide open, Yahweh stopped his leisurely pace and broke into a run toward the house.
“Lucifer!”
His tone was bright, carrying a hint of excitement.
Lucifer, seeing Yahweh’s fresh new look, stood up from the edge of the bed and complimented him, “You look great.”
Yahweh's mood brightened even more.
But before anything else, Yahweh had to deal with something that was troubling him, something that even a god found vexing. He threw his arms around Lucifer’s waist, the force of his motion sending Lucifer tumbling onto the bed. The bed bounced slightly, incredibly soft. This kind of forwardness made Lucifer raise an eyebrow—he immediately knew Yahweh was about to ask for something. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be acting this obedient and affectionate.
Gently stroking Yahweh’s back, Lucifer concealed his surprise and asked, “What happened?”
After all, Yahweh had never asked him for anything before.
“Lucifer—” came a guilty voice from his chest.
“Go ahead. I’ll help you with anything, don’t worry,” Lucifer coaxed him, while inwardly considering the recent intelligence from Heaven. God had yet to assign the position of Archangel to Yahweh, which was odd for a Seraph. Maybe there was some gossip in Heaven that had upset Yahweh. Or perhaps earlier today, when Michael made Yahweh serve as Metatron’s deputy, Yahweh might have felt slighted by the Chief Archangel.
Could it be that Metatron, with his mild temperament, had somehow mistreated Yahweh?
"Paperwork." Yahweh lifted his head from Lucifer’s chest, his golden eyes shining brightly. "Lucifer, help me!"
With a wave of Yahweh’s hand toward the empty space, an avalanche of paperwork appeared, white sheets filling the not-too-small room to the brim.
Lucifer: "..."
Wait, what’s going on here?!
Satan, who hadn’t seriously handled any affairs in tens of thousands of years, stiffened as he stared at his lover.
Yahweh decisively planted a quick kiss on his lips.
Beauty trap, check.
But a simple beauty trap wasn’t enough, so Yahweh added softly, "You can do whatever you want tonight."
"..."
Lucifer suddenly had the sinking feeling that even though he had fallen from grace, he was still not going to escape the shadow of Heaven’s paperwork.
Michael had gone to great lengths to ensure that Yahweh stayed put in Heaven, trying everything he could to keep him from being lured away by Lucifer again. After hitting a wall with God and failing to secure an archangel position for Yahweh, Michael slyly assigned him to the most diligent and responsible of angels—Metatron. Ignoring Messiah’s objections, Michael used his authority as Seraphim leader to assign Yahweh a temporary deputy role.
Yahweh had thus become Metatron’s temporary deputy—essentially, free labor.
Metatron, aware of the situation, showed no mercy when it came to official duties. He piled the work on Yahweh, ensuring he completed every task before being allowed to clock out. The only reason Yahweh had been able to make it to the mortal realm today was because he had offloaded some of the workload onto Messiah, and had brought several days' worth of paperwork with him to ask Lucifer for help. Yahweh knew all too well about Lucifer’s capability when it came to handling official duties. After all, Lucifer had once been the Seraphim leader, effortlessly managing heavenly affairs, and had always been God’s "trusted right hand."
Yahweh had decided to let Lucifer continue being "trustworthy" for him.
Night fell.
Yahweh held a ball of light magic in his hands, illuminating the room, while opposite him, Lucifer was furiously working through the mountain of paperwork.
With so much work piled up, the promised "you can do whatever you want tonight" had become nothing more than an empty promise.
___