Touya had spent two years in this room believing that “ordinary happiness” was a lie sold by TV dramas. But here was an angel who found joy in a shared blanket, in the way the sunset turned their tiny room into a golden box, in the simple fact that someone else was breathing nearby.
She vanished with the sunrise, leaving behind a single feather and a refrigerator stocked with pudding.
Somewhere above, a girl with scuffed wings and a flickering halo whispered to a lonely old man: “Delivery.”
Nelly was terrible at being an angel. She couldn’t heal his paper cut—she just blew on it and said, “There, blessed.” She couldn’t provide divine wisdom—she used his textbooks as a pillow. What she could do was hover. She’d float near the ceiling, legs crossed, and watch him study for hours. Watch One Room- Hiatari Futsuu- Tenshi-tsuki. E...
“No,” he replied, looking at the empty, south-facing window. “Now I know what to pray for.”
“I’m ‘hiatari futsuu’—just the usual sunbeam,” she said, tapping the south-facing window. “My job is to exist in your light. Literally. Your sunlight powers my halo. Without it, I’d just be a weird girl on your floor.”
“The Bureau messaged,” she whispered. “They found the error. The old man on the fourth floor… he’s been praying for company every night. I have to go.” Touya had spent two years in this room
“Can’t,” she said, stealing his pudding from the fridge. “Orders are binding. You prayed for ‘someone to share the south-facing room with, even if it’s just a houseplant.’ Technically, I’m better than a houseplant. I photosynthesize!”
Before Touya can scream, she tumbles through the closed glass as if it were air, landing in a heap on his pile of laundry.
“Nelly?”
“But your room,” she said softly. “It’s south-facing. You said you wanted a houseplant.”
“You’ll be lonely again,” she said.