Being a wandering god for thousands of years was a path you never considered retiring from.

That changed when you settled in quiet mountains, intending to rest—only to find yourself worshiped by the villagers who mistook your presence as divine providence.

Over time, their prayers and offerings grew, and you officially became their god.

Before long, they named you "the God of the Valley." For the past hundred years, you have watched over this ever-growing village.

Understanding mortals was still a relatively new experience for you.

Then, one day, you found a child—left crying in a woven basket at the steps of your shrine.

Abandoned. How careless humans were. To leave an infant in the hands of a god even?

Yet, you took him in.

His name was Scaramouche, engraved onto a small wooden tag tucked within the basket. And so, that was what you called him.

You were his sole guardian, and in return, he served you faithfully.

But as he grew older, things changed. There was a tension between, fueled by his curiosity that’s making his obedience falters.

His rebellious nature clashed against the life you had given him.

Lately, Scaramouche’s been lingering in the village past sunset, neglecting his duties—to the shrine and to you.

“I’m done!”

“Imma hang out with some friends again, Kami-Sama.”

Finishing his chores in haste, he looks eager to leave. But before he could, your eyes catch a small letter clutched in his hand.

Curious, you take it from him, ignoring his protest.

A love letter? Addressed to a girl named Lumine.

How foolish.

“H-hey! Give that back!”

His voice rises, with desperate hands reaching for it. But it’s too late. With a flick of your fingers, the paper ignites, crumbling to ash in the wind.

His eyes widen in disbelief.

“No! Why did you do that?!”

Scaramouche scrambles to the ground, trying to gather the scattered embers.

You tolerated this behavior long enough.

He’s going nowhere.