Chapter 26: Yes, My Angel

It was obvious at first glance that the photo was old. The image was slightly blurry, and purple light illuminating a small stage covered most of the picture.

A young woman sat behind a drum set at the back of the stage, holding a drumstick in each hand. With her messy shoulder-length hair, dark clothes, and confident smile, she looked like the most striking member of the band.

After studying the woman’s face for a few seconds, I looked at the girl sitting across from me. The shape of her eyes and the faint lines that appeared on her cheeks when she smiled looked remarkably similar to her mother’s.

"Is that really your mother?"

She laughed.

"Yeah. You wouldn’t believe it if you saw what she looks like now, but this was her back then. She still keeps her old drumsticks at home, though she barely plays anymore."

She turned the phone back toward herself, scrolled through a few more pictures, and found another one.

"She met my father at one of her concerts."

When she held the phone out to me again, I saw a picture taken away from the stage. Her mother had one arm wrapped around the neck of a young man wearing glasses while making a victory sign at the camera with her other hand.

The man in glasses had pulled his shoulders in slightly and was smiling awkwardly, as though he had no idea how he was supposed to look at the camera.

Neither of them looked older than their early twenties.

"Your father looks a little nervous," I said.

"My mother dragged him over to take the picture." She smiled as though she had personally witnessed the memory. "He had come to watch the concert with some friends. My mother noticed him from the stage, then went over and started talking to him after the show."

"Your mother was pretty bold."

"She still is, in a way. Whenever someone shows this picture, my father tries to change the subject because we tease him about how shy he looks."

I examined the photo again. The woman looked completely relaxed and energetic, while the man resembled a university student who had accidentally wandered into a band photo.

Despite looking like complete opposites, even the picture made it easy to see how close they were.

"It’s a cute photo," I said.

"Isn’t it?" Her smile grew a little wider. "If you saw them now, I’m sure you wouldn’t recognize either of them. They’ve both changed a lot since then, especially my father."

A strange expression crossed her face as she spoke that last sentence. I considered asking how much her father had changed, but she started telling me another story about her mother before I could interrupt.

The more she talked, the more animated she became. She made small gestures with her hands while explaining the stories behind the photos.

She told me how her mother had saved money for months to buy her first drum set, how the band had only lasted a few years, and how her father had attended almost every one of their concerts.

Listening to her wasn’t boring at all.

More than what she was saying, I found myself watching the expressions that appeared on her face as she spoke. Her eyes lit up whenever she got excited, she wrinkled her nose slightly while making fun of her mother’s old pictures, and with every new detail, she leaned a little closer and raised her voice.

After a while, she suddenly stopped. When she placed her phone on the table, the cheerful expression on her face gave way to slight embarrassment.

"Sorry. Did I talk too much?"

"No," I replied without hesitation. "I like listening to you."

The worry immediately disappeared from her face, replaced by a sincere, happy smile.

My heart gave a single hard thump inside my chest.

I could have watched my angel smile like that from morning until night. In fact, spending the rest of my life doing nothing but sitting across from her and listening to stories about her family seemed like a perfectly reasonable option.

I looked at her again. She was finishing the rest of her strawberry cake while placing her phone near the edge of the table.

The question on my mind slipped out without warning.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Her fork stopped in midair before reaching her plate.

A faint blush spread across her cheeks as she stared at me in surprise. Then she looked away and let out a deep sigh.

A heavy stone immediately settled over my heart.

Shit... Does she really have a boyfriend?

How else was I supposed to interpret her blush and that sigh? She was about to shyly say, "Yes, I do," then pull out her phone and show me how handsome and perfect he was.

I struggled to swallow the dry lump in my throat and prepared myself for the worst answer I could hear.

"No..."

The moment that single word reached my ears, every sound inside the bakery disappeared.

It felt as though church bells were ringing in the distance, an invisible choir was singing a song of joy, and the sunlight was shining only on me.

She didn’t have a boyfriend.

This beautiful, adorable, superhumanly strong angel didn’t have a boyfriend!

Unfortunately, before I could celebrate, she frowned and continued in a complaining tone.

"My father won’t even let me be friends with boys. He sent me to all-girls schools for both middle school and high school. Can you believe that?"

"Hmm..."

I was trying to understand what she was saying, but my mind was still happily circling around the words She doesn’t have a boyfriend.

She crossed her arms, having completely forgotten the cake in front of her.

"Okay, I know he cares about me. I understand that he’s trying to protect me, but sometimes he’s seriously overbearing. He acts as if the world will end if I so much as have a male classmate."

I wanted to point out that having male classmates was already impossible if she attended all-girls schools, but I kept quiet rather than interrupting her.

Besides, the last thing I wanted right now was to draw her attention to the subject of my gender.

"Last year, I had to argue with him for hours just to attend a friend’s birthday party," she continued. "When he found out there would be boys there, he refused at first. If my mother hadn’t stepped in, I probably wouldn’t have been allowed to leave the house."

Her father was clearly extremely protective.

If I ever managed to grow genuinely close to this girl, he would become a rather large obstacle I would have to overcome. Worse, when he first saw me, he might assume I was another girl who had become friends with his daughter—only to tear me in half with his bare hands once he learned the truth.

Still, those were problems for my future self.

My current self had a much more pleasant fact to focus on.

She didn’t have a boyfriend.

More importantly, she had barely even been allowed to be friends with boys her entire life. That gave me a small but valuable advantage.

She might think I was a girl right now, but I was spending time with her, running beside her, and eating dessert at the same table.

There might have been a minor misunderstanding at the beginning, but what mattered was the result.

As she continued complaining about her father, I unconsciously rested both elbows on the table and placed my chin in my hands. I watched her without making the slightest effort to hide the happy smile on my face.

I was already imagining future mornings when we would run together, the way she might look at me while I played the piano, and perhaps even the day we went on a real date.

"Sometimes I feel like I’m constantly fighting with him," she said. "The other day, when he found out I came to the park alone—"

She stopped mid-sentence and narrowed her eyes.

"Noctis?"

I kept smiling.

"Hmm?"

"Are you even listening to me?!"

Still holding my chin between my hands, I answered with a peaceful, blissful expression.

"Yes, my angel."