Lucien raised a brow and looked at the man in the doorway. "Did you just call me 'Lucy'?"
Moses, standing nearby with a saw in hand, froze. Cold sweat trickled down his back. Had the archangel sensed something?
But the man—God, or so he claimed—remained perfectly calm.
He stepped aside, ushering in a large black-faced ewe and a bleating lamb trailing behind her. The mother sheep was heavy with milk. Gently, he guided them into the yard, then sat beside Moses and began adjusting the unfinished wooden cage.
"You're not Lucien?" he asked, tone casual. "Moses called you that."
Moses paused mid-saw. That was it? He was just going to go with it? No discussion, no clarification?
The terrifying part wasn't that Moses, a lowly servant, had to pretend to be the God of Creation under the watchful eye of an archangel.
It was that Lucien was freestyling, while his partner clearly had the script—and wasn't sharing it.
He said nothing, continuing to saw the wood, mentally giving God center stage.
Lucien scoffed when he heard the name "Moses." He leaned close to the fake deity and muttered, "You dragged someone to live with you without even telling them your real name? You just gave him your bird's name?"
Moses grimaced. He'd almost forgotten—he was originally a bird who carried divine messages.
He kept a straight face, reminding himself: If God wasn't embarrassed, neither should he be.
Lucien's gaze flicked to the clumsy hands working the wood. He clicked his tongue, snatched the wood away, and said, "You're hopeless. Let me do it."
He nudged Moses aside and took over. God quietly observed him, amber eyes softening.
The little creature who had once fit in His palm now stood grown and tall. Gone was the radiant archangel; in his place was a dark figure, dressed in black, his mood volatile and sharp.
But when Lucien stood beside Him, it still felt like old times.
God reached up and brushed a strand of black hair from Lucien's face.
Lucien looked up, his dark eyes like the night sky—still and rebellious. "What was that for?"
"It was in the way," God said stiffly.
Lucien huffed and took the half-finished cage. As he hammered away, God spoke again.
"Lucy."
Lucien immediately frowned. "That's his nickname for me. You call me Lucien."
God blinked, glanced at Moses, who gave a silent plea, and then nodded slowly.
"Lucien," He repeated, a little awkward.
Then, after a pause, He said softly, "My name is Yahweh."
His voice was still cool, but something tender hid beneath it. Lucien didn't seem to notice. Focused on his work, he only replied with a grunt.
In no time, Lucien had crafted a small, sturdy wooden cage. God lined it with cloth before gently placing the tiny snow ferret inside.
Lucien eyed the black-faced sheep munching grass in the yard. "Roast lamb tomorrow?"
Moses, clueless, turned to Yahweh. "Do you want roast lamb?"
He asked it so earnestly that Lucien bristled instantly.
He strode up to Yahweh, arms folded, eyes narrowed. "You're flattering him now?"
Yahweh looked back calmly. Despite being about the same height as Moses and a bit shorter than Lucien, his quiet grace, white robes, and refined features gave him an ethereal presence.
Lucien's gaze swept over him: thick lashes, sculpted face, slender neck, graceful hands.
"Aside from his looks, what's so special about him?"
Moses: ...You'll find out.
Yahweh approached the sheep, kneeling to stroke the lamb. "I don't eat meat."
Still, the sheep trembled, especially the lamb, who seemed ready to collapse. Lucien's dark aura clearly terrified them.
Yahweh moved slightly, shielding them. "None of us eat meat," he added gently.
His tone remained calm, but his hands lovingly brushed the lamb's soft fur.
He placed the cage on the ground and said, "This ferret's mother died. Share your mother with it. You'll be friends, and it will help you in return."
Though His powers were sealed, Yahweh's words still carried weight. The lamb bleated softly and nodded.
The snow ferret perked up and waddled toward the lamb, nose twitching. Its tiny paw tangled in Yahweh's silver hair.
Lucien approached, intending to tease—but stopped short.
He saw the man kneeling on the ground, hair caught in the ferret's paw, struggling awkwardly to free himself. Yahweh's fingers were gentle but clumsy.
Lucien clicked his tongue. "Don't move."
He knelt beside him and deftly untangled the hair. The silver strands slipped through his fingers like water.
"Thank you," Yahweh murmured.
Up close, Lucien finally noticed: the man wasn't just handsome—he was divine. The soft scent of winter winds clung to him.
Lucien stiffened. That scent… he knew it.
It was the same scent that clung to the true God he'd served all his life.
He grabbed Yahweh's wrist. "Why do you smell like… Moses?"
He leaned closer, nose nearly brushing Yahweh's neck.
Startled, Yahweh pushed him away. The cage thumped to the ground, startling the sheep into a panicked run.
Lucien's voice had been low, but Moses heard every word. The courtyard fell silent.
The wind whispered through the trees.
Yahweh's usually calm eyes rippled with emotion. Sealed from His power, He now looked almost… human.
Moses stepped forward awkwardly. "Lucien didn't mean anything. Don't be mad."
Yahweh blinked slowly. But before He could reply, Lucien shouted:
"You two—did you already sleep together?!"
The words hit like thunder.
And for the first time, even God had no answer.