My Stupid Human

Chapter 1

The forest was alive with whispers. A mysterious figure walked through the misty woods, his footsteps silent on the moss-covered ground. Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, creating a patchwork of light and shadow. Ethereal figures flitted between the trees, their voices hushed and curious as they watched him pass. He ignored their murmurs, his eyes fixed on the path ahead.

A towering, luminescent building loomed in the distance, its spires reaching towards the sky. The air grew cooler as he approached, the forest giving way to a wide, open space bathed in a soft, otherworldly glow. The figure's expression remained impassive, a stark contrast to the awe-inspiring beauty around him.

He pushed open the heavy metal door and stepped inside. The grand office was richly decorated, with tapestries depicting celestial scenes adorning the walls. An older man sat behind a massive desk, his gray hair and glasses giving him an air of wisdom and authority. Beside him stood a guardian angel, a sword gleaming at his side, eyes watchful and alert.

The figure halted just inside the doorway, his gaze meeting the older man's. Silence stretched between them, heavy and charged with unspoken tension. The man behind the desk leaned forward slightly, his expression inscrutable.

"Andras," he said, his voice resonating in the stillness. "We've been expecting you."

Andras nodded once, his face devoid of emotion. He did not move from his spot, his posture rigid and defensive. The guardian angel's grip tightened on his sword, a silent warning that did not go unnoticed.

"You've come a long way," the older man continued, his eyes never leaving Andras's. "And your journey is far from over."

Andras remained silent, his jaw clenched tightly. The older man sighed, leaning back in his chair. "There is much to discuss," he said. "But first, we must address the matter of your past."

A flicker of pain crossed Andras's face, quickly masked by his usual stoicism. He gave a curt objected look, his eyes darkening with a mixture of anger and sorrow. The older man gestured to a chair, and after a moment's hesitation, Andras moved forward and sat down, his movements slow and deliberate.

The guardian angel relaxed slightly but remained vigilant, his eyes never straying far from Andras. The older man folded his hands on the desk and leaned forward once more. "Tell me," he said quietly. "What do you remember?"

Andras's eyes narrowed, and for a long moment, he said nothing. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he began to speak. The words came slowly at first, each one weighted with memories he had tried so hard to forget. As he spoke, the older man listened intently, his expression grave.

The whispers of the forest seemed to fade into the background, the world outside the office slipping away. In that moment, there was only Andras and the older man, and the story that had yet to be told.

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"Do you believe him, St. Nicholas?" the guardian angel asked, his voice low and cautious. They walked side by side down a long corridor, lined with angels who bowed their heads in respect as they passed.

St. Nicholas sighed, his eyes reflecting the weight of centuries of wisdom and experience. "No," he said quietly. "No, I do not believe him." He paused, the faint echo of their footsteps filling the silence. "But I trust the boy. He may be dangerous, but deep down, I know he's a sweet boy." His voice softened with a touch of hope, a small smile playing on his lips.

The guardian angel glanced at St. Nicholas, his expression thoughtful. "You truly wish to create a connection with him, don't you?" he asked, his tone more curious than skeptical.

"Yes," St. Nicholas replied, his gaze distant as if he could see beyond the physical realm. "I see a reflection of his mother in him, a spark of goodness struggling to survive. He's built walls around his heart, walls of pain and anger. But I believe there's still a chance to reach him."

They continued walking, the corridor opening into a vast hall where angels moved gracefully, their ethereal forms shimmering in the soft light. St. Nicholas received their silent reverence with a nod, his focus still on the young man who had just left his office.

"Andras has been through so much," St. Nicholas continued. "His mother's loss..and rumors of his father.. it's no wonder he keeps his guard up. But if we can show him that not everyone wishes to harm him, perhaps he can begin to heal."

The guardian angel nodded slowly, his grip on his sword relaxing slightly. "It won't be easy," he cautioned. "The boy is stubborn, and his trust is hard to earn."

St. Nicholas smiled, a twinkle of determination in his eyes. "The most worthwhile things are rarely easy," he said. "We must be patient. I will not give up on him, even if it takes a lifetime."

They reached the end of the hall, the light dimming as they approached another doorway. St. Nicholas paused, placing a hand on the guardian angel's shoulder. "Keep an eye on him," he instructed gently. "Protect him, but give him space. He needs to come to us on his own terms."

The guardian angel bowed his head. "As you wish, St. Nicholas."

As they parted ways, St. Nicholas watched the guardian angel walk back towards the office where Andras had been. He stood alone for a moment, lost in thought, before turning to gaze out at the celestial landscape beyond. In the distance, the forest shimmered with a mystical light, a reminder of the delicate balance between hope and despair.

St. Nicholas whispered to himself, his voice a solemn vow echoing through the halls of eternity, "May the angels watch over you, Andras."