That night, bonfires roared throughout the village of Rabbi as the revelry raged on without any sign of stopping. After all, an Angel—the likes of which the continent hadn’t seen in centuries—had descended upon them. To those who lived in Holylight, nothing was more worthy of celebration than that. Merchandise and food were practically being given away at every stall, and booze actually was being given away—all fuel to the fire.
Meanwhile, Manami—despite being the object of this historic festival—remained clueless. “Um... This isn’t a dream?” she asked, her gaze wandering to and fro. Until now, she had been convinced that she was asleep. What’s more, her senses had been heightened and she had reversed in age, right down to her childhood.
Tahara turned to White, giving up on explaining anything to his sister in the middle of the raucous revelry. “Can you take over here, White? If you don’t mind.”
“Oh, uh— Yes!” White mastered her elated expression and began controlling the crowd.
Beside her, Luna was twirling round and round. “Finally, I have wings! Angel wings! From this day on, I’ll be the Golden Holy Maiden Angel!”
“Holy Maiden Angel...” Eagle said, staring at her friend with mixed emotions. “Luna, shouldn’t you think this through before accepting such a thing?”
“What’s to think about?! From this day on, you may call me Her Royal Holy Golden Angelic Highness!”
“That’s too long, Luna... People are going to think you’re an idiot.”
“Who are you calling an idiot?!” Luna shrieked, although excitement was still written all over her face.
Harts and Sambo, as if snapping out of a daydream, quickly stood from their box seats.
“Sambo, bring in the soldiers we stationed outside the city. Put them on crowd control!” Harts commanded.
“Yes, sir!”
All Militants moved out to increase security in the heart of the festival, lest some harm come to the Grand Angel in the heated chaos.
Hands shoved into his pocket, Tahara began walking. “Let’s talk in my room, Manami. It’s noisy out here.”
“Your room...? Where are we? I thought I was dreaming!” Manami said.
“Dreaming, huh? To me, living in that other world was one long nightmare. C’mon.”
“Isami, wait up!”
The siblings entered the Casino, the heavy doors to the lobby thudding shut behind them.
Manami took in the space bursting with golden light. “S-See, this has to be a dream. I’m a kid again, and I’m wearing this weird dress, and I even have wings...”
“It’s not weird. You look good.”
“Even in my dream, you’re talking nonsense...” Manami couldn’t see her brother’s face as Tahara walked before her.
Despite his unrelenting adoration for his little sister, Tahara never showed a hint of it to Manami, putting on a mask of aloofness, as if he were looking after her out of obligation. He was kind of tsundere, to the benefit of absolutely no one. A grown man in his thirties acting this way was more disturbing than charming. “Well, it’s a luxury hotel upstairs. It’ll have everything you need.”
“W-Wait a minute...! There’s a halo above my head!” Manami said.
“Yep. Suits you perfectly.”
“You’re making fun of me, aren’t you? Isami!”
Tahara had been dead serious, of course. Manami was a literal angel to him. He could have wept on his knees thanking the Secretary for summoning her in this form.
“All right, this is my room. Let’s take a breather and talk inside, shall we?” Tahara said, opening the door to his room in the Casino. He often found sleep elsewhere while he executed his countless duties around the village, but considering how the schemes he’d plotted in this very room were reshaping the entire continent, it could be described as ground zero of the Demon Lord’s world shaping.
Once the door fully opened, Manami was greeted by a massive mound of garbage. Pens and papers and instant ramen cups carpeted the floor, like some fugitive of the law had been holing up in it for months.
“Wh-What is this...?” Manami asked.
“My room. I told you.”
“Your bed isn’t made, your clothes are all over the place...”
“Huh? You just gotta move them aside.” Tahara began shoving clothes away to carve a path through the room, and one of the articles of clothing knocked over a half-eaten ramen cup, sending it splashing onto the floor.
“Wait! You just spilled ramen broth on the floor!” Manami shouted.
“Calm down... It’ll dry up.”
“Your brain is dried up!”
“M-Manami! What are you—”
“Stay out in the hall! I’m going to clean this mess!” Manami shoved Tahara out onto the hall and began cleaning the room with an efficiency befitting a master of all housework.
“Hey, Manami... You don’t have to worry about cleaning now, do ya? Besides, guys can’t relax unless there’s a little mess here and there.”
“A little...? I can’t see the floor!” Manami began throwing everything she could get her hands on into a trash bag. As she felt more passionately about cleaning the room, her body began to glow. “Why am I cleaning in my dream...? Wait, my body’s glowing...”
“Manami... You’re lighting up! Like a jackpot on a slot machine!” Tahara said.
“Oh, I feel like I can make this place sparkle... Cleansing Light.” Bright light burst from Manami, erasing all the trash in its path. In the blink of an eye, Tahara’s trash heap had been cleansed. “Hooray! All the garbage and stains are gone! Victory!” Manami said, holding up her fingers in a proud V.
“Victory?! You obliterated my smokes!” Tahara protested, pointing to the spotless ashtray that had been piled high with cigarette butts.
Even the strewn clothes looked freshly laundered—an indication of how powerful Manami’s casual burst of light had been. Having not only cleaned but also cleansed her brother’s room, Manami stared down Tahara. He’d always been a slob, even when they lived together as children, but having to clean up his mess in what she thought was a dream had crossed the line. “Isami, sit.”
“Huh?”
“Even for a dream, this is ridiculous. How many times have I told you to keep your room tidy?” Manami asked.
“C’mon! How long ago was that? We’re not kids anymore—”
“Sit.”
“Yes’m.”
Then Tahara’s little sister went on to lecture him about his questionable lifestyle choices. Genius though he might have been, Tahara was utterly disinterested in housework. “All right, all right. I get it! Let me tell you about—”
“No. You definitely don’t get it.’”
In truth, Tahara could have wept with joy that his sister was here, nagging him for minutes on end. As a result, his lips had curled into what looked like an arrogant smirk.