Yahweh was always elusive in heaven, like a dragon whose head could be seen but not its tail, making it so that most angels didn’t recognize him or had never even seen him.
However, certain things about him still caused his "reputation to spread far and wide."
For example, having an affair with Satan.
Michael suppressed the rumors in heaven, issuing a strict gag order, forbidding anyone from discussing Yahweh’s affairs without permission. He originally thought Metatron could introduce Yahweh into social circles and help restore normal relations, but Michael never expected that two days later, the Chief Seraphim would come to him with a troubled face and say—
"Yahweh has disappeared again."
"…Have you asked Messiah? Where did he go?"
Michael sighed.
Metatron’s voice remained gentle as always. "I did ask, but Messiah doesn’t know. This time, Yahweh has gone too far."
Michael could hear the rare hint of anger in Metatron’s tone, which surprised him slightly.
Metatron continued, "I won’t interfere with his private life, but as a Seraph, Yahweh should bear the responsibilities of one. He’ll eventually learn to understand the mistakes he’s made, but I can’t accept that he repeatedly ignores his duties, especially when he abandons the official tasks I entrusted him with to go to the mortal realm."
Michael’s expression turned serious, his playful demeanor fading. "When he returns, have him come see me."
Metatron nodded, planning to join Michael in properly disciplining Yahweh.
But things never go as expected.
When Yahweh returned, his body ached all over. Every step he took made him feel like he was falling apart. Lucifer had worked tirelessly all night, diligently completing the tasks Metatron had assigned him. However, the next day, he didn’t let Yahweh off the hook for making him work on behalf of heaven.
After all, word of Satan handling heaven’s paperwork wasn’t exactly something that sounded good.
As Yahweh recalled the events of the previous day, he couldn’t help but rub his sore back, a slight blush creeping across his face. Still, he was reluctant to use his divine power to erase the marks Lucifer had left. The intense and chaotic experience was something Yahweh had only ever gone through this once in his life. Though it wasn’t worth it just for the sake of completing official tasks, he had fully received all of Lucifer’s affection.
No matter how frustrated he was, he couldn’t bring himself to truly hurt him.
This was Lucifer’s form of tenderness.
Yahweh pressed his lips together, trying hard to restore his usual cold and aloof expression. Little did he know that Messiah had already noticed something was off, his gaze flicking briefly to Yahweh's lower back.
For a few seconds, Messiah marveled at Lucifer’s boldness.
Messiah felt a bit regretful that the truth was unknown to all of heaven. God had slept with Satan, and now he looked like someone basking in the glow of love. What in the world had heaven and hell been fighting over all these years? Wasn’t the most urgent matter now to stop God from moving to hell?
Yahweh pulled Messiah in as a shield. Obediently, Messiah organized the paperwork God brought back and handed it over to the Chief Seraphim on his behalf.
The moment Metatron saw the supposedly completed documents, his face was filled with astonishment.
"How is this possible?"
This wasn’t the amount of work a novice could quickly finish.
Messiah’s face remained expressionless, though inwardly he thought: God would do anything for a date with Lucifer.
When Metatron flipped through the documents again, he suddenly became the second expressionless person in the room.
"This... this was written by Yahweh?"
"...Yes."
Messiah silently stared at Metatron, who was asking the obvious.
Metatron was utterly defeated.
"Since you’ve finished reviewing the paperwork, I’ll take my leave," Messiah said calmly as he turned to leave, completely ignoring the Chief Seraphim behind him shouting, “Wait, have Yahweh return to work!” What a joke—God had already finished all the paperwork; there was no way he’d come back to exhaust himself working for heaven again.
Metatron, clutching his head in frustration, looked at the documents. The handwriting was elegant and refined, the content meticulously organized, as if the entire situation in heaven had been laid out with perfect clarity.
He felt... utterly powerless to control Yahweh anymore.
"Attendant, deliver these Yahweh-written documents to the Archangel. Let him decide what to do."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Several of the Chief Seraphim’s attendants stepped forward, obediently gathering up the documents. As their eyes swept over the handwriting, their expressions suddenly shifted, a mix of realization, shock, and an unspeakable tremor passed through them.
"This is... His Highness Lucifer’s handwriting!"
Metatron frowned, his tone sorrowful as he said, "Don't meddle. Just deliver them to Michael. And make sure no other angels see the writing."
The attendants carefully carried the documents away, as though handling something so precious they dared not let it bump or scrape.
Archangel Michael was puzzled.
Was today some special occasion? Paperwork wasn't usually delivered at this time, so why did the attendants from Metatron's side seem as though they were facing a great crisis?
Michael touched his own face, which he believed to be very friendly-looking, and said with a cheerful smile, "Hey, what brings so many of you here today?"
One of the higher-ranking Seraphim attendants responded, "Lord Archangel, please review the documents from His Highness Yahweh."
It wasn’t the usual respectful address of "Lord Michael" but instead "Lord Archangel," which made it clear that today, they were handling things strictly by the book.
Michael, intrigued, stretched out his hand. "Alright, hand them over."
One attendant carefully pulled a stack of documents from the pile and respectfully handed it to him.
Without a word, all the Seraphim attendants present held their breath, as if anticipating something. They weren’t disappointed. The moment Michael glanced at the paperwork, his pupils contracted, and a flicker of shock flashed through his fiery eyes. Immediately, he began flipping through the pages rapidly, not even bothering to read the content—he was only looking at the handwriting.
“Bring them over! Bring the rest of them here!”
Michael commanded urgently.
The Seraphim attendants scrambled to help, handing over the rest of the documents for Michael to review.
After spending some time going through everything, Michael slumped forward, his forehead hitting the desk as he let out a pained groan.
"What is he doing?! How could he even let heaven's paperwork be ghostwritten!"
The Seraphim attendants were speechless. Lord Michael, isn’t the main issue not that Lucifer can handle heaven’s paperwork, but why Lucifer would even agree to do it for Lord Yahweh?
"Is there any issue with the documents?"
One of the attendants wanted to make sure they completed the task assigned by their superior.
"No issue." Michael collapsed onto the desk, drained of energy. Even his once-vibrant red hair seemed to have wilted, adding a touch of melancholy.
"It’s written incredibly well. Go back and tell Metatron that Yahweh's ability to handle paperwork now surpasses mine..."
Seraphim attendants: "..."
Though it was true, such defeatism made them deeply worry about heaven’s future.
Yahweh, oblivious to the chaos he had caused, was quite pleased to find that Metatron wasn’t bothering him anymore. Metatron was excellent in every way, except for being too responsible. His strictness toward every Seraph made Yahweh, who was merely pretending to be one, feel rather frustrated.
Following the rules, Yahweh obediently stayed within his palace in heaven for an entire day.
Lying on the bed, Yahweh toyed with a recently delivered black floral crown, which seemed to be a rough variety of hellish flowers. With a hint of curiosity, he placed it on his head.
In the mirror, the silver-haired beauty, now adorned with the black crown, looked mesmerizing. The lavish flowers exuded a seductive charm that contrasted with the ethereal style of heaven. The dark branches intertwined with his silver locks, the stark contrast between black and silver creating a striking and captivating effect. Yahweh wasn’t particularly fond of dark-colored things, but as long as it was a gift from Lucifer, he was willing to make an effort to appreciate it, even if just out of affection for the giver.
Besides this, however, he had received yet another odd gift:
A collection of books explaining why angels and demons never have good outcomes together, along with a few small bottles of glittering, delicate contraceptive pills.
Yahweh: "..."
I’m not even an angel. It’s not that easy for me to get pregnant!
The inherited knowledge Yahweh possessed had made it clear that for a Creator God, offspring were incredibly difficult to produce. There was no way for him to have children through normal means. Bearing pure-blooded divine offspring was even more impossible unless Yahweh himself willingly allowed the offspring’s divine rank to decrease. Otherwise, reproduction wasn’t feasible.
Of course, there was one other possibility—
He no longer wanted to live.
Passing on the responsibility of creation to his offspring and letting them continue his existence in his place.
Yahweh rolled over on the bed, his body wrapping in the soft, white blankets like a sandwich.
Blocking out the nagging whispers of the Book of Creation echoing in his ears, Yahweh closed his eyes. He could still faintly feel the lingering touch of Lucifer’s hand on his skin, a sensation that inexplicably soothed him, allowing him to peacefully drift into sleep.
In the quiet rhythm of God’s breath.
The black floral crown atop Yahweh's head slowly withered, its dark petals falling onto the pristine white bed. They couldn’t withstand the divine, radiant aura that surrounded him. Extreme light can illuminate the world, but it can also destroy it.
And Yahweh was precisely such a deity.
In the mortal realm, Lucifer noticed the changes in the small forest over the years. Passing through the barrier, he saw that the life force inside was far more abundant than that of the outside world.
In their secret meeting place, life had visibly thrived at a rapid pace. Many birds and beasts had crossed the unguarded barrier to make their homes here. Walking along the path through the small forest, Lucifer observed that the wild flowers were flourishing, the trees stayed evergreen throughout the seasons, and scarcely any withered leaves could be found.
Lucifer was certain neither he nor Yahweh had deliberately protected this place.
The only explanation was that the powers they each carried had influenced the land.
It was much like... the mimosa flowers.
A smile appeared in Lucifer’s eyes as he stepped into the sea of flowers. Amidst the vibrant blossoms, he found the delicate and glistening mimosa flowers, which Yahweh never cared for.
He carefully selected a few blossoms, intending to bring them back and place them in a vase for his enjoyment.
"Bzzzz—"
The barrier had been triggered again.
A flicker of displeasure crossed Lucifer’s eyes. If Michael dared to come here and bother him again, he wouldn’t let him off as easily as last time.
As soon as he stepped beyond the barrier, however, it wasn’t the red-haired angel that greeted him but the familiar face of Samael.
“Samael?”
“Your Majesty, I received a letter from Heaven,” Samael replied, his expression rigid as he respectfully bowed to Satan. What he said next would depress even the Seven Deadly Sins: “The letter was delivered by a high-ranking demon, coerced by none other than Michael. It says... Your Majesty has been correcting Heaven’s official documents?”
Lucifer’s gaze wavered slightly, but his voice remained soft. “Just for fun.”
Samael forced a stiff smile. “Is that so? Then may I ask if Your Majesty would like to add a little more fun?”
With a wave of his hand, the interior of the small forest was suddenly overwhelmed with towering piles of paperwork.
The incessant internal conflicts between demons and fallen angels, combined with their inherent rebelliousness and pride, had led to an explosion of work in Hell every year. Maintaining and repairing the realm had become a daily task. Samael had long wanted Lucifer to return and take charge, but Lucifer had been hiding behind the pretense of sorrow, indulging in leisure for tens of thousands of years.
Now, he had finally seized the opportunity.
_______________________________