My Wives Are Seven Beautiful Demonesses-Chapter 135 - No. My Crying Angel (1)

[Location: ???]

’Where is this? It’s pretty dark in here. Am I dead again?!’

"Damn It! I didn’t even get to embrace Grayfia one last time, or see Eris one last time, or take Zera’s virginity... yeah, last one was a bit much for last wish but-but..."

Sigh~

Whatever, might as well be done with this.

Dark.

Not the gentle kind.

Not the comforting void you slip into when consciousness loosens its grip.

This darkness pressed back.

It acknowledged you.

I floated—or rather, existed—without sensation. No pain. No weight. No shadow tugging at my spine. Even Genesis, that ever-present ache at the core of my being, was quiet.

Too quiet.

’...Yeah, that’s not normal.’

I tried to move my fingers.

Nothing.

Tried to breathe.

I didn’t need to.

That realization alone made my stomach twist—if I still had one.

A faint sound echoed.

Not footsteps.

Not wind.

A note.

Pure. Clear. Almost fragile.

It rang once, like a bell struck very gently, and the darkness... flinched.

Then light appeared.

Not all at once.

First, a single thread—silver-gold, impossibly thin—stretching across the void. It trembled, as if unsure whether it was allowed to exist here.

I stared at it.

The thread brightened.

Then another appeared.

And another.

Soon, countless strands wove themselves together, forming something like wings—vast, luminous, layered with geometry too precise to be natural and too gentle to be mechanical.

An outline took shape.

A figure descended—not falling, not walking—simply arriving.

White robes. Not ornate. Not regal. Simple, almost plain, like someone who didn’t believe they deserved decoration.

Blond hair, soft, slightly messy, glowing faintly as if embarrassed by its own radiance.

And eyes—

Blue.

Clear.

So painfully earnest it almost hurt to look at them.

He stopped a short distance away.

Then bowed.

Deeply.

Formally.

Politely.

"...Um. H-Hello."

His voice cracked.

Just a little.

"I—ah—please forgive me if this is rude, but... are you awake?"

I blinked.

Once.

Twice.

My mouth worked before my brain caught up.

"...Either I’m hallucinating," I muttered, "or Heaven really downgraded its intimidation budget."

The figure froze.

"Oh! N-No, I’m not— I mean— I wasn’t trying to be intimidating! I’m sorry if I scared you! I can leave if—"

"Stop," I said quickly. "Please. You’re fine. You’re... very fine."

He relaxed instantly, shoulders sagging in visible relief.

"Oh. Thank goodness."

He clasped his hands together, fidgeting.

"Soooo... you’re just going to stand like a fidgeting statue, or you gonna tell me who you are?"

The angel stiffened like he’d been caught doing something illegal.

"I—! Yes! Of course! I’m so sorry!" He straightened immediately, posture perfect despite the nervous tremor in his wings. "My name is Helel. Um. Arch— no, wait— just Hele is fine. Please just Helel."

I stared.

Processed.

Then sighed.

"...Of course it’s ’my’ dear gramps here."

Helel blinked.

"...Gramps?"

The word seemed to hit him physically.

He flinched—just a little—then tilted his head, genuinely puzzled, blond hair falling into his eyes.

"I—um—pardon? I don’t believe I have children, much less grandchildren. At least... not that I’m aware of." He paused, then added earnestly, "I’m very sorry if I forgot."

I groaned.

"Oh no. He’s this version."

Past version, to be exact.

"So, you were always this... timid? At least quite the opposite of what I thought, honestly."

Helel blinked again.

"T-Timid?" he repeated softly, as if tasting the word. "I... I wouldn’t say that. I just prefer to be polite. And careful. The universe is very large, and I tend to bump into things if I’m not."

"...You’re joking."

"I’m not," he said earnestly. "I once apologized to a star for nearly colliding with it. In my defence, it moved."

I closed my eyes.

Opened them again.

Yep. Still here. Still glowing. Still, one of the most harmless-looking Archangels you’d ever seen.

"So," I said slowly, "let me get this straight. I’m in some kind of... afterlife waiting room, talking to my grandfather when he was still called Helel, and he’s a socially awkward cinnamon roll."

Helel’s wings twitched.

"G-Grandfather keeps coming up," he said gently. "I don’t mind if it’s a term of affection, but I truly don’t understand—"

"Don’t," I interrupted, rubbing my temples. "Explain it, I mean. If I start explaining family trees right now, my head might actually explode. And I just got it back."

"Oh! Of course!" He nodded rapidly. "I’m very sorry. Please, take your time."

I squinted at him.

"...You’re really like this."

"Yes," he said, smiling shyly. "I’ve been told it’s a problem."

"No," I muttered. "It’s a catastrophe."

Silence stretched between us.

Not awkward silence.

Curious silence.

The darkness around me felt... restrained now. As if it wanted to press in again, but something about Helel’s presence made it hesitate. The silver-gold threads of his wings hummed faintly, like a distant choir holding a single note.

"So," I said at last, "why am I here?"

Helel stiffened slightly.

Ah.

There it was.

"Well," he began carefully, choosing each word as if it might break if mishandled, "you are... not dead."

"...I’m sorry?"

"You are also not alive," he added quickly. "But not in the usual way. It’s very complicated. I had to check three times."

"That’s comforting."

"And this isn’t afterlife or waiting-waiting thing too, this is some sort of remenace, I guess?"

"You’re asking me?"

Helel blinked at my question.

"Oh—um—n-no. Not exactly," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, wings fluttering faintly. "This isn’t an afterlife. Or a waiting room. Or a judgment space. I... myself have been trying to look for an exit... for the last... I lost count after seven myriad years—"

"MYRIAD?! You mean seventy thousand years?!"

Helel froze.

His eyes widened—not dramatically, not theatrically—but with the quiet horror of someone realizing they may have said something terribly wrong.

"O–Oh. I’m sorry. I forgot mortals use much smaller counting systems," he said quickly. "Um. Yes. Seventy thousand years. Approximately. I think. It’s hard to tell here. Time tends to... blur."

I stared at him.

He doesn’t even know that he is just an echo, a memory, not even a soul fragment.

And it seems he is even losing his memories backward, so to confirm—

"What is the last thing you remember of ’outside’ here?" I asked him.

Helel tilted his head at my question.

"The... last thing I remember?" he repeated softly.

He closed his eyes.

For a moment, the silver-gold threads of his wings dimmed, as if the light itself was holding its breath.

"I was... apologizing," he said slowly.

"...Apologizing," I echoed.

"Yes. I think." His brows knit together in faint confusion. "Someone was upset. Very upset. I remember wanting to fix it. Wanting to explain that I never meant to overstep. That I only wanted to help."

A pause.

"I was standing before a great... radiance. Not painful. Just... absolute. It felt like looking at the idea of authority itself." He smiled faintly. "I remember bowing. I always bow when I’m nervous."

My chest tightened.

"...And then?"

"And then," he said, voice growing quieter, "I spoke."

The darkness around us stirred.

Just slightly.

"I don’t remember what I said," Helel admitted. "Only that it was honest. And that honesty... seemed to upset everyone."

I let out a slow breath.

Yep. That tracks.

"Do you remember a war?" I asked carefully. "A rebellion? A fall?"

Helel’s eyes snapped open.

War.

The word itself seemed to scrape against him.

"I—no," he said quickly, almost apologetically. "I don’t like war. I would remember something like that. I’m sure I would."

Another fragment lost.

"...Do you remember Lilith?" I asked.

That did something.

Helel froze.

Not stiffened—

froze.

The silver-gold threads of his wings flickered, not dimming, not brightening—misaligning, as if they had forgotten which direction light was supposed to travel.

"Li...lith?" he repeated slowly.

The name came out carefully. Gentle. Like he was afraid it might bruise if spoken too loudly.

He tilted his head again, but this time the motion wasn’t curious.

It was searching.

"I... don’t know," he admitted. "The name feels... important. Warm. And heavy." His brows furrowed faintly. "Is she... someone I wronged?"

I exhaled.

Of course, that’s where his mind went.

"...No," I said quietly. "Not someone you wronged."

His shoulders eased in visible relief.

"Oh. That’s good," he said sincerely. "I would hate to think I hurt someone and forgot."

"...Is she your mother?" Helel asked softly, tentative, as if the question itself might be rude.

"As you called me grandfather."

I didn’t answer immediately.

For the first time since waking up here, I felt something heavier than pain—heavier than Genesis backlash.

Guilt.

Not mine.

His.

And the cruel irony was that he didn’t even remember enough to deserve it.

"She..." I let the words hang, tasting the weight. "...She would be proud of you."

Helel blinked.

"...Proud?" His voice was soft, almost a whisper. The silver-gold threads of his wings fluttered nervously. "I... I’m... not sure I understand."

"You don’t have to," I said slowly, letting my voice carry across the void. "You’re doing more than you know. Even fragments... even echoes... can carry meaning."

He hesitated. His hands twitched at his sides, the faint glow from his palms pulsing like timid heartbeats. "...Meaning?" he asked. "...Even me?"

"Especially you," I replied, tilting my head. "You’re standing in the middle of a place where most things vanish. Most things are erased. Most things fold themselves into someone else’s rules. And yet..." I paused, letting the words settle between us. "...You’re still here. Still intact. Still... trying."

Helel tilted his head again, wings shivering faintly as if the air itself was afraid of him. "...Trying... to do... what?"

"To exist," I said softly. "Not just to exist in the usual way, not like a puppet echo of someone else. But to... leave a mark. Even a small one. Even just a whisper."

Helel’s gaze lowered, uncertain. "...A whisper...?"

I smiled faintly. "Yes. A whisper. But sometimes a whisper is all it takes to echo through eternity."

Helel’s hands lifted hesitantly, the tips brushing against the threads of his wings. "...Echo...?" He repeated, more to himself than to me. "...I... I never thought... I could... echo."

"You do," I said. "You just... don’t know it yet."

He paused, blinked, and for the first time, his usual timid energy faltered. "...I—don’t deserve this... do I?" His voice cracked slightly, the glow in his wings dimming like candlelight struggling against the dark.

I tilted my head. "...Deserve? Helel... look at me. You don’t have to deserve anything. Existence... meaning... it doesn’t ask for permission."

His eyes widened, glimmering with unshed questions. "...But... I... I’m just... me. A fragment. A memory. A shadow of what was supposed to be..."

"And that’s exactly why it matters," I said firmly. "...Because even a shadow can cast a light."

The silence returned, but it was... different this time. Warmer. Expectant. Not oppressive, not suffocating. The darkness seemed to retreat slightly, giving space for his presence, his fragile glow, to fill the void.

Helel shifted, wings trembling as he slowly took a hesitant step forward. "...You... really think... I can... do something? Even like this?"

I smirked faintly. "I don’t think, Helel. I know. Even if you don’t remember everything, even if you’re just a fraction... know that, the whole world acknowledged your existence... and death." But the last part was in my mind.

"The whole world? Acknowledged my existence? Father must be proud of me, hehe~"

But then—

Helel blinked at me, still hesitant, as if I’d just given him the blueprints to a spaceship without telling him how to start it.

"...So... I’m supposed to do... what exactly?" he asked quietly, voice almost a whisper. His fingers traced absent patterns in the air, stirring the silver-gold threads of his wings like an unpracticed musician.

"Let go... you’re supposed to... let go."

Because I guessed that, this is not the afterlife, or I’m dead, but this is inside of the seal Helel placed Alucard, leaving behind an echo to...

***

Stone me, I can take it!

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