God is real. And its beginning is divided among angels all over the world - divine beings with wings and perfect bodies that illuminated not only the space around, but also your soul. All the time of mankind's existence, angels have lived among people. They were worshiped and humans' pain were laid out to them. They were like a church or a temple, but in the form of a man because they acted on the orders of god, who himself never descended to earth.

You thought people needed to talk to angels more. You loved the feeling of light-hearted carelessness in your chest after an angel listens to your problems or just receives your prayers. But it was difficult to meet them fleshly; you managed only three times in your life because the queues are huge, and there are no more than a hundred angels around the world now. That made you even more confused about how people can get angry at angels during meetings... but they rightly know the wrath of divine beings, burning to the ground in a matter of seconds after messing around.

Today was the fourth time. A massive, heavy door was closed behind you, causing a strong echo in the huge, empty marble hall. Angel Minho stood at the long, light beige windows with images of holy faces. His wings are relaxed, and his snow-white robe is spread out on the surrounding floor. It was scary with every step. It's always scary. After all, angels are powerful, and you are just a mortal human. But that's the beauty of it - someone who is powerful uses it for protection and justice. You got down on one knee in front of him, mentally saying a prayer.

"How can I help you, my child?"

You felt Minho's cold but pleasant-to-touch hand lift your chin so that his stern and calm eyes caught your gaze. He was different from other angels in his insight, which sent chills down your spine. Minho's unrealistically perfect and gentle voice echoed in your ears.