Cute Angel

  The afternoon had finally settled over the house, where most of its residents were resting in the living room, with the exception of the girls who had the afternoon shift at the café.

  The television was on, broadcasting the news and narrating the “official” version given by the Japanese government regarding the events of that night. They mentioned how a pair of Russian terrorists had infiltrated the building and attempted to steal the money from Mr. Fujikawa’s fortune, who was also listed as one of the night’s fatal victims. Apparently, the terrorists belonged to a rebel group from the most remote interior regions of Russia, such as Siberia, although the Russian government insisted that such a group does not exist and that it was merely international defamation. What was clear, however, was that the money had indeed completely disappeared. The Prime Minister thanked the S.A.T. agents for their efforts in taking the building, rescuing the hostages, and announced a ceremony to honor the officers who died in the line of duty. I could see how the images shown by the press had been carefully selected to avoid showing anything violent or anything where I appeared, clearly altering the facts to erase my battle against the terrorists and thus save some face in the eyes of the international community, hiding the reality that a single foreign individual had done almost all the work for them.

  Although the day continued its normal course with the chaotic yet warm life that this house had, with residents as diverse as goddesses, angels, ghosts, or lamias, there was someone who stood out in the living room despite being just a human: none other than Damaris, my younger sister of my mother. The poor girl has been in a state of shock since the day before yesterday and has been slowly trying to calm herself. She has spent most of her time in the living room eating ice cream despite it being winter, wrapped in a blanket she refuses to part with, though we are beginning to suspect that she is simply taking advantage of the situation to eat as many sweets as she can.

  Right now, I was talking with my mother after she came back from the café. It seemed she had made herself a cake, prepared with a lot of care and affection.

  “Seriously, I can’t believe César....sorry, Elise now.... can act normally after what happened that night.”

  “He.....she.... even went to school the very next day after that whole catastrophe—only about six hours after fighting to the death with a dozen terrorists.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t call it resilience so much as the fact that she doesn’t really have a choice.”

  “That moron has missed so many days of school that her grades are right on the edge of failing the entire year.”

  “It’s more like she’s forced to attend even if meteors were raining down, not that she’s resistant to bad days.”

  “And after everything she’s done this year, I think this is among the most normal adventures—unlike hijacking an enemy aircraft carrier or saving the President of the United States from a kidnapping.”

  “She’ll probably have more time to deal with the trauma once she manages not to fail the year.”

  “Every day is normal when every day is Doomsday in emergency town,” my mother said with a bit of sarcasm and aversion, knowing that all of this was, in reality, just part of what counted as normal in our hectic lives.

  While the two of them were arguing, I was sitting at the table, staring at the broken crystal I held in my hands. It was the control crystal I

  What I’ve truly struggled with, however, is clothing. It’s not so easy to imagine yourself as your own clothes the way the human body “operates” them. Still, I keep practicing so I can stop depending entirely on buying clothes and be just my own naked body and try to reduce the expenses in this house, which keep skyrocketing every time a new girl joins the harem.

  With the arrival of Voronoa and Lucy, we’ve had some problems with their wardrobe, since both girls are actually a single Lamia measuring ten meters long. They exist in one body, but they have completely different tastes in clothing. Lucy likes gothic-style outfits—nun or Lolita fashion—the same kinds of designs the Lecarde family usually wears to reflect their status as Inquisitors. Voronoa, on the other hand, with her more animal-minded nature, prefers very little clothing that doesn’t restrict movement, like a bikini or revealing outfits—at least until she went outside and the winter cold made her rethink her decisions, and now she’s looking for the biggest and heaviest coats possible due to her aversion to the cold. So we ended up having to buy two… actually three sets of clothes for each of them. And as if that weren’t enough, with winter approaching and the snow about to start falling, I think we’re all going to need new clothes these days. My mother is going to kill me when she sees all the clothing bills at once.

  The calm of the day was abruptly broken when I saw Momo and Mei Ling approaching to talk. Both had serious expressions, which meant the problem was a big one.

  “It’s Lisa, she’s having another episode again,” Momo said.

  “Another episode?”

  “Of what exactly? Is she behaving mentally like a three-year-old again? Does she want to kill the neighbor because his dog took a dump in front of the gate again?”

  “It’s Lisa, it could be anything.”

  “Her acting as a psychopath is normal for her. At least she never hurts people, so I don’t think it’s that serious.”

  “Just leave her alone and tell her not to hurt anyone. It’ll pass in a few minutes, I imagine.”

  “She’s not acting psychotically—that’s the problem this time.”

  “This time she’s aware that she’s crazy and that there’s no cure.”

  “She’s crying because she knows her mind is never going to get better.”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “She’s sitting and crying in the café staff room.”

  “Go talk to her—you’re the target of that yandere. You’re the one she’ll definitely listen to,” Mei Ling said.

  “She may be a demon, but she still suffers a lot because of it.”

  “Please help her,” said Momo, the angel.

  “Oh shit, yeah, that is serious.”

  “Okay, fine, I’m going there right now.”

  “Mei, have the car ready and waiting just in case I need to take Lisa somewhere to calm her down.”

  “Yeah, sure, I’ll be waiting on the next street over,” said the beautiful girl.

  Without wasting any more time, I headed to the café, which was almost completely empty except for Saeko, Levia, Nanami, and Tamamo, who were quietly working, trying to endure and give Lisa the space she needed. Tamamo smiled at me for a moment when she saw that I had shown up to help the poor succubus in her difficult moment. So, with everyone’s trust on my shoulders, I took the key, opened the door, and entered the demon’s lair.

  Inside, I saw the poor innocent girl hugging a pillow with an image of me on it, a handmade plush she had sewn herself that looked like me, and a bottle of my slime that she had somehow managed to steal from me without my noticing, all covered by another fluffy blanket with my face on it as well. She was clutching all three tightly, almost praying to them, crying in fear, as if searching in them for the strength to endure her greatest enemy: her fractured mind.

  When she saw me enter, Lisa stared straight into my eyes in panic, looking ashamed that I had found her surrounded by so many objects with my face on them, revealing her obsession with me—a sight that surely reminded her of the angelic Lisa I had known in the past. Out of respect, I didn’t say a single word and sat down near her. Seeing me there, Lisa gathered her things and moved closer to me without saying anything. She sat beside me, hugged me, and rested her head on my shoulder, only to start crying again with even more intensity. I didn’t stop holding her for a single second, enduring her sobs with her until there was nothing left to come out.

  It was quite a long while.

  When I finally realized it, Lisa had stopped crying for some time. Her eyes were closed, and her face looked calm for the moment. I thought she had fallen asleep, but then she herself was the one who spoke.

  “I’m so sorry for being such a heavy burden on you, Cesar.”

  “Don’t worry, you’re not a burden to me at all."

  "It’s just another part of your existence. I know it, I know it’s there."

  "And if I’m with you, it’s because that doesn’t matter to me. I love Lisa—that’s why I’m with her."

  "When you act like a little girl, when you protect my family so fiercely, the cute serial killer that helps, and also when you need help instead."

  "If I love Lisa, I love all of her."

  "The way you protect my family with such loyalty is already a payment far too great for me to ever repay.”

  “But I’m not who I used to be anymore."

  "Now I’m a demon—a succubus, a yandere."

  "I’m no longer the pure angel I once was. I’ll never be Angel Lisa again."

  "This is what I am now. The whiteness, the light… they were stained forever."

  "They will never return, just like my mind,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying.

  “????”

  “But what are you talking about? Right now, I’m looking at an angel."

  "My guardian angel—the one who has always been protecting me and my family.”

  “Stop it. You’re only saying that to comfort me, but I know very well what I am now."

  "The thing farthest from an angel that exists—I’m their natural enemy."

  "I look at my hands and see my claws. I touch my head and feel these horns… my wings are black and featherless, I have a tail that can eat a person."

  "Even when I try to be good, I end up destroying something.”

  “Lisa, you’re friends with Momo—she’s an angel too, and she also wants you close."

  "She was the one who came to tell me that you needed me."

  "To her, you’re an angel too, even if you want to deny it."

  "You’re innocent and pure in the only way the yandere Lisa can be."

  "The white clothes and the halo of light were just a uniform you used to wear—but the succubus outfit suits you even better."

  "In your clumsy innocence, in your fierce loyalty, in your desire to do what’s right, even when you didn’t know how."

  "And that angel didn’t leave. She burned, she twisted, she screamed in pain… but she’s still here."

  "Because even with all of that, you still fought for what you truly wanted—loving me."

  "I should be the one crying, because no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be able to match the sacrifice of love you made for me.”

  “Still… she won’t come back. She never will.”

  But as I spoke to her, a small and probably stupid idea began to grow louder and louder in my head. It was foolish, it was reckless—it could turn out terribly—but it was exactly what had to be done, what needed to happen.

  “You know what?” I said, standing up and extending a hand toward her.

  “Come on. Let’s try something.”

  She looked at me, confused, but placed her clawed hand in mine with a touching trust. I led her out of the living room, through the café, receiving curious glances from Saeko and the others, who said nothing. We returned to the house and went upstairs to the bedrooms.

  “Wait here,” I told her in front of my mother’s door. I knocked, and when Adelis opened it with a questioning expression, I asked to borrow one of her elegant white dresses —the ones she kept reserved only for the most important and formal events.

  I asked Lisa to put it on, even if she didn’t like it, at least to do it for me. Then, when she was done, I led her in front of a large mirror where she could see herself completely, and I placed Momo’s angelic halo of light over her head. It glowed beautifully over her nervous, shy face. Her black bat wings pulled in tightly behind her, framing the scene—absurd and deeply moving.

  “You know,” I said gently, “I still think white looks good on you.”

  “I look ridiculous,” she sobbed. “A fraud. A demon pretending to be something she no longer is.”

  I stepped beside her in the reflection, placing a hand on her back, feeling the tension of her wings beneath the fabric.

  “And this… this is my angel."

  "The one who came into my life during a dark moment."

  "The one who saved me. The one who saves my family."

  "The one who suffers and still keeps loving."

  "That is my angel—even if she expresses herself clumsily, with her impressive horns, with her cute dark wings."

  "The one who is still pure, even though the world, the heavens, and her own mind conspire against her.”

  Lisa stared at her reflection, the initial shame slowly giving way.