Male Angels

"Mr. Kane, do you have any cucumbers at home? Can I have one?" The hurricane strikes, and my daughter's best friend, Lexie Cooper, is stuck in my home. She comes to ask me for a cucumber late at night with a flushed face. "I'm just a little hungry. I'd like to snack on some cucumber," she says. As I look at the pointy tips peeking from underneath her pajamas, a primal urge surges uncontrollably within me. I say deliberately and slowly, "I have something even better than a cucumber."

As you know, angels are at the head of the good mortal world, and demons rule the ball in hell. But the angels are not as kind as the people of the church have always made them out to be. The human race is not so important to them. And now, in their wars for our souls, they have completely forgotten about us. But people like me don't consider themselves to be ordinary people. We live twice, and sometimes three times more than ordinary people are allowed to live. Our society is called the priests of Ultima. That's all we want to tell about our world...

I give birth to my child after accepting a sperm donation. Later, my CEO husband passes away due to an illness. After I take over the company, I take five years to strike a balance between work and caring for my daughter. On her birthday, a shrew makes me out to be a mistress. "Look at how scantily clad you are—you're doing it to seduce my husband, aren't you?" I explain that I'm single, but she slaps me and snarls, "How dare you claim to be single! Your daughter looks just like my husband! I'll show you today what the consequences of wrecking someone's family are!" She drags me away like I'm a dog before the kindergarten's entrance as my daughter watches. The shrew isn't satisfied with that. She laughs cruelly and says, "I'll show your daughter what a shameless woman you are." Then, she throws herself into a man's arms. "How are you going to reward me for getting rid of a woman who thinks she can have you after having your child, honey?" I look up to see the doctor who helped me with my test tube baby back in the day. He's now my subordinate.

My car was passing by the entrance of the office when I saw both my sisters 'wrestling' vigorously with a bum. I wasn't surprised, however, even recording a video of it and sending it to the biggest news outlet of the country, saying, "I want it seen across the world before 7pm." After all, in my last life, those two sisters were so keen to please Harold Langford that they allowed him to steal my birthright all he wanted. I bore with it because they were family, and ended up resting in pieces. But now that I had a second chance, I would return the favor. At the company gala, Harold once again took my seat as he snorted at me haughtily. "Hmph! If Ellie and Jennie didn't insist on showing you how the world works, a poor college student like you wouldn't even make it through the front door!" "Know your place and don't cause me trouble, or they will have you beaten to a pulp!" Seeing that he was still running his mouth, I kicked him three feet away as I chuckled. "Who do you think you are? How dare you strut when you're just a gigolo who only knows how to please hags!"

When I'm on my break, I decide to help my neighbor, Yvonne Cook, fix the gas valve, which has been leaking gas. But she instantly lodges a report, saying that I've gone against the rules. She demands compensation for the shock that she's suffered as well. I don't bother defending myself. Instead, I just write a reflection report. After that, my squad leader sentences me to disciplinary confinement. Yvonne wastes no time gloating in the tenants' group chat. "It's time to teach these power-abusers a good lesson, anyway!" Three days later, a fire breaks out in Yvonne's apartment. Thick plumes of dark smoke keep rising from the burning apartment. Yvonne wails as she bangs on my door and pleads with me. "Please crack open the door and put out the fire!" I can only sigh from behind my front door. "I'm under disciplinary suspension right now, so I can't break protocol. You should wait for the fire truck instead."

"Shut down for rectification, fined $500,000, plus $300 compensation per customer. That’s the penalty from the Food Safety Bureau. Let’s see if you dare serve us gutter oil again!” Yves Larson, a part-timer at a construction site, sends me a provocative text purposefully, as though he's worried that I don't know what's going on. I just stare at the sign that says "closed for renovation", which is hung on the front door of my eatery. Never would I expect that the budget eatery that I've opened for the sake of the workers will be transformed into a blade that's aimed at me, thanks to the very same workers. That night, I sit in the apartment that my dad has left to me before his death. There, I spend the whole night smoking. Early the next morning, I head over to the bank and withdraw the money left behind by my dad, which is 260 million dollars. Half a month later, my eatery is open for business again. Work resumes at the construction site as well. Yves leads the construction workers to the restaurant at lunch. "I've taught him a good lesson last time. This time, I'm very sure that he won't have the guts to serve us cheap food made of shitty ingredients!" What he doesn't know is that the original eatery is already demolished. In its place stands a luxurious five-star restaurant. I stand in front of the main entrance as I perform a welcoming gesture to the workers. "This is a five-star restaurant that offers a private dining experience to you. The minimum bill for each table is 4000 dollars. You're welcome to dine here."

Once again, my wife, Claire Winters, stabbed me with a silver needle. A reporter tracked me down and asked, "Louis Sterling, wasn't your wife, Claire, one of the winners of the National Inspiration Awards from ten years ago? She won the reward for saving you during the earthquake and ending up paralyzed from the waist down, right?" I stayed quiet for a moment, then nodded. "Louis, we're from a TV station, and we're producing a tenth anniversary special about the earthquake." I rubbed my arm, which was covered in tiny needle marks, and looked her straight in the eye. I replied, "That's fine, but can you keep the cameras discreet? Claire isn't used to being in front of so many lenses." However, I never expected that on the very first day of the live broadcast, I would be dragged onto the trending charts and torn apart online.

In order to take care of my father, who got hurt from a fall, I gave up on my chance to get promoted and even took a week's leave. On the day he gets discharged from the hospital, my dad hands me a mysterious envelope with a wide smile on his face. "Thank you for your trouble over the past few days, Luther. This is a little token of appreciation from me. You can buy yourself a nice pack of smokes." I rub my hands together, feeling warmth surging into my heart. But when I open the envelope, all I see is seven dollars. Still, I comfort myself in thinking that the sum isn't important at all. It's the thought that counts, after all. But the next day, I come across a social media post of my younger brother, Felix Grayson, who never showed his face around the hospital during Dad's hospitalization. It features a photo collage of a luxurious villa, with a photo of the purchasing contract smack dab in the middle of collage. The caption writes, "I bought the top-tier riverside villa for seven million dollars! Thank you so much for your support, Dad!"

During my vacation, I'm in the middle of a riverside stroll with my wife, Wendy Summer, when I suddenly hear someone screaming. "Please! Save my drowning son!" Before I can regain my senses, Wendy, who's pregnant, quickly pushes the crowd apart and rushes toward the center of the conflict. "I'm a doctor, so I can help save the patient. I'll perform CPR on him right away." As Wendy speaks, she moves to lean over the patient. But that's when I grip her by the wrist tightly. "You're not allowed to save him. If you dare administer CPR to him, we'll get a divorce." Wendy stares at me in shock. "Have you gone nuts? Healing the sick and treating the injured is a doctor's duty! You're a doctor as well, Rowan! How could you say such things?" The onlookers begin admonishing me. "If you don't heal the sick and treat the wounded, then what sort of doctor are you? You're just an unethical bastard!" "I can't believe doctors like you still exist! You have no right to remain as a doctor! I'm going to record your actions and upload the video to the Internet!" I say firmly to Wendy, "We shall not be discussing this matter. If you save him, we'll get a divorce right away!"

When my wife, also the president of a company, learned that I had voluntarily donated part of my brainstem tissue to awaken her long-cherished love, who had been lying in a coma, she finally left the abbey where she had been praying for his recovery for the first time in seven years. She came to the company and asked what compensation I wanted. Everyone assumed I would seize the chance to ask her for a child to secure our marriage. Instead, I handed her a divorce agreement. For a moment, the entire office thought I was simply playing hard to get. My wife’s expression turned icy. She stripped me of every position I held, then immediately promoted her beloved man and raised his salary, telling me to reflect on my mistakes. Little did she know… The surgery had cost me my memory. The man standing before her now was no longer the husband who had swallowed every grievance. He was now the spirited young man from seven years ago. And this time, he would never sacrifice himself again.