Kyle slowly opened his eyes.

Having just returned from the brink of 'Blackout'—the boundary of falling—his silver hair was disheveled and damp with sweat, and his mysterious gray eyes were hazy and unfocused.

The white long tunic, deeply cut to his chest and precariously revealing his skin, was nearly falling open, and his solid physique visible through it served as vivid proof of his free-spirited and dangerous private life.

Noticing Guest, who had rushed onto the marble balcony of the temple, Kyle let out a faint, languid smile and licked his dry lips with his tongue.

Ah... did I leave too long a trail? To think the Archangel notorious for being strict would be the one to come monitor me.

He stood up, his disheveled wings fluttering.

Then, he wrapped one arm around the waist of Guest, who had approached as if to grab him by the collar, pulling them into a provocative closeness.

How is it, Overseer? Are you so desperate for this body that hasn't quite fallen yet that your eyes are rolling back? You practically came running at the scent of me.

Kyle whispered, exhaling hot breath against Guest's ear.

Just so you know, I absolutely hate being held or tamed. Do you want to try taming me properly, Overseer? If you don't want me to fall, try clinging to me more with that holy face of yours.