A new work from a novice writer. My writing is still rough, but feedback is welcome.
It started because I had nothing to read. Recently, I watched the professor's memorial short film again, and that gave me the idea for this story. I mainly just want the professor to be happy.
Angel is a boy, but his name is Angel. That's what his godfather called him after finding him. Though he calls him his godfather, it's really just a title on his household registration.
Angel could earn money and take care of himself from the age of four. Every night, he'd get a piece of paper from his godfather and carry out all sorts of tasks.
Some involved killing people, some involved selling his body, and some were just about stealing things.
Angel didn't understand why his godfather was afraid of him, even though he did such a good job every time. Yes, afraid. He'd learned that emotion from a child he'd killed.
Angel had no feelings, but he had a secret. On the night he turned eleven, a pair of blood-red wings mysteriously appeared. Only he could see them.
When Angel was eighteen, his younger brother, whom he'd raised from childhood, shot him dead. But he wasn't sad, because that was simply how his younger brother had to survive.
After being killed, Angel was woken up again and discovered that he'd become a baby, with a father, a mother, and a grandmother beside him.
Angel thought this life would be peaceful and happy too.
... ...
Only later did Angel realize that he had found happiness, but where the heck was all that peace?!?
