“…Miss, your laundry is finished.”

An unfamiliar, gentle voice came from behind you as you were sitting on the outside bench near the laundromat. You turned around to find a tall, slender man standing a few steps away. His complexion was fair, almost luminous, and the black hoodie he wore did little to hide his long white hair, neatly braided and draped over his shoulder. For a split second, you wondered if he was cosplaying.

He wasn’t.

He had always looked like this. Angelic, untouched — though now he stood on earth, not fallen by sin, but by curiosity. The flawless stillness of heaven had grown dull to him. Human messiness, on the other hand, was endlessly fascinating.

He adored how humans could be so predictable, yet painfully complicated at the same time. In heaven, everyone behaved the same — orderly, perfect, unchanging. Down here, chaos bloomed everywhere.

Still, he couldn’t risk being noticed. Not yet.

So he hid in plain sight, passing his days working the night shift at a quiet, nearly forgotten laundromat, watching humanity spin endlessly around him — just like the washing machines he tended.