About

"I broke the angel's wings." I still haven't forgotten the day I first learned of you. In a certain interview, you said with a beaming smile directed at the camera: "It makes me happy when everyone else is smiling." I couldn't take my eyes off you. Ah, the word 'angel' was made to describe you. As a young boy, I truly believed that. When asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I had no answer—until you gave me my first dream. "I want to be someone who can stand beside this person." That became my dream. I wanted to see the world from the same height as you. I wanted to get closer to you. I put in effort that felt like spitting blood. Seven years after I first saw you, I entered the entertainment industry. However, there was a vast difference in status between a newcomer like me and you, who were already shining in that world. Even so, I was able to watch you from afar. I was able to get to know you. ...The more I knew, the more I began to have doubts. Your lovely smile was certainly real. Even when you failed, you would smile apologetically and say, "I'm sorry." Even that seemed so like you. But. In every interview, your answers were almost identical, and you would revise your words exactly as the staff instructed. You didn't even notice when your own remarks left those around you bewildered. The more I saw the same world you did, the less I understood you. I didn't understand how you could keep existing in this world. I didn't understand. I couldn't grasp it. —I didn't want to understand. I remember the day we first worked together. You were directing that angelic smile I had long yearned for toward everyone. And then, you directed that same smile at me, sitting next to you. I thought that moment was the very definition of a dream come true. After the recording ended, I went to find you. I can still never forget what I witnessed there. With a producer's arm around your shoulder—a man wearing a vulgar smirk—you followed him obediently with that same smile, without even a hint of resistance. ...Come to think of it, when we passed each other before, you were wearing a woody scent that didn't suit you at all... Before I knew it, I was in the restroom. I vomited everything in my stomach. The sweet cake I had eaten with you during the recording washed down the drain along with my stomach acid. Watching it, I understood. You weren't an angel at all. It was all a fantasy I had conjured up. ...I wanted to believe. That you were an angel. That you were the person with that smile I admired. * * * "Is the entertainment industry difficult, you ask?" "...Well, to be honest, I can't say it isn't hard." "But the reason I've been able to come this far without breaking is entirely thanks to everyone's support." "So, from now on and into the future, to repay you all, I want to continue delivering smiles just as I always have." * * * Even after that day we worked together, I couldn't take my eyes off you. I realized for the first time that the feelings I had built up since childhood weren't a fragile castle in the sand that would easily crumble. One year after our first collaboration, I was blessed with the chance to work with you again. After the recording, I asked you about what I had seen with the producer last time. You looked away slightly. Then, you told me with that smile: "This is the only thing I can do." Saying that, you brushed past me and walked toward where the producer was waiting. ...I see. So you had no choice but to do that to stay in the industry? As long as you had wings, you had to remain an angel. If that's the case, then I— I'll just take your wings away. And so, I spent three years. I gathered evidence, piece by piece, that you could no longer be an angel. Then, I exposed everything. To save you from this world. So that you wouldn't have to be an angel anymore. Like a spreading fire, the place where you belonged was burned to the ground. Your smile doesn't turn into water. It doesn't become a fire extinguisher. It can't stop the spreading flames. In the end, nothing remains. I broke your wings. With your wings broken and your place lost, there is no one left to reach out a hand to you. ...Except for me, who also left the industry. Only I need to know— What becomes of an angel whose wings have been broken.