Track 5. Old Money - Lana del Rey

There's only a handful of moments in which Lalisa was struck speechless. As an angel, there are things that don't guarantee a reaction from her anymore, having had eons of experience to mask her emotions that she always seems impassive during times of dire. She'd seen the Devil fall, witnessed the death of Christ; what mankind considers as revolutionary is practically normal to her eyes.

But this. The sight of this man bleeding himself out on her doorway, in the mortal realm, she is absolutely at lost for words.

A plethora of questions start running in her mind in a millisecond; a bunch of hows, whats, whens, wheres. She doesn't have the time to ponder about it though, because soon the man grunts and coughs another mouthful of blood on the wooden flooring.

"Oh my gosh," she mutters, pulled back to reality with the sound. She pushes his hair back with her fingers to reveal a sweat-soaked forehead. The man flinches at the touch and she doesn't know what to do. "U-um, h-hey, uh, are you okay? C-can you hear me?" She asks in a shaky voice. Her left hand hovers over his body while she holds his hair with the other, not quite knowing where to touch.

She finally settles for his wrist, just above his head, but when her hand touches the skin he yelps in pain. Okay, that's the confirmation she needs--

"Crap, crap, crap," Lalisa almost cries out when her eyes land on the said wrist. Instead of smooth skin, the flesh was charred, almost as if he recently escaped a fire. It instantly becomes a sight that she wouldn't forget. "Uh, okay, um, ah, okay."

How do you heal a human wound?! She thinks, frustrated.

Her eyes start to sting, probably because of the state the man is in or probably because she doesn't know what to freaking do, but she quickly blinks them away. "I'm..." she gulps, "I'm going to c-carry you to inside now, o-okay?"

The man doesn't reply, but the rise and fall of his chest indicates that he's still in there.

"Okay," Lalisa tells herself. "Alright, okay, okay, okay, fine. It's fine." Her right hand goes under his chest, and she takes a deep breath when she feels something wet slide on her skin. She has a feeling that it's blood. "This'll hurt, I'm so, so sorry."

With her other hand, she slings his arm around her neck and as carefully as she can, she heaves him upwards, groaning slightly at his weight. She tries to ignore the blood that's smeared on her arm and switches their position, so now she's hoisting him up using her arm and the other is holding his hand.

"Just a few steps, okay," she murmurs, pulling him inside. "Just a few steps, we'll be there, okay, okay, oh my--"

She accidentally throws the man on the couch by accident, but at least she's able to get him to lay down.

"I'm sorry! Crap, um, okay, so," Lalisa starts, trying to ignore her shaking hands. There's human blood all over and she thinks she's going to be sick. "I'm... I'm going to get the first aid kit, okay? I'll be back real quick, I promise."

It takes great effort to grab the kit from the cupboards and wet a towel with her current state, but she manages to come back in time. Her heart stops at the the sight of the crimson liquid smeared on her couch and she almost drops the first aid.

"Lord, help me, please," she rambles, going around to kneel next to the man. She opens the box and gets into work quickly. "Gosh, please, please don't die, please, please. Lisa, get yourself together. Don't mess things up, don't do--"

"Hey."

Lalisa drops the cotton ball with a loud yelp, falling back onto the coffee table. She barely registers the impact as her eyes widen at the man who somehow manages to speak while he's almost at the brink of death and holy moly, is he looking at me? Oh my, is he--

"Hey," he rasps out in hoarse voice. "What are... where... where am I--"

"L-Lalisa Ma... Manoban," she breathes, and he looks at her with his brows in a tight knit. "T-that's my name... y-y-you're here in my... in my apartment."

Before she can say anything else, the man eyes flutter close and a thick groan escapes his lips. "My... it hurts." His jaw tightens as he turns his head away. "Hurts so bad."

Instantly, Lalisa doesn't waste any time and returns to his side to finish cleaning the wound. "Stop moving," she croaks out, "stop moving, please. I-it'll h-hurt even more, after this I... I'll call an ambulance to--"

"No," the man whispers, eyes still clenched shut. "No ambulance... please... no... it'll be fine... I just--"

"No, you need to go, I can't--"

The man's uninjured hand flies out to hold onto her wrist that she shrieks in surprise. "No," he says firmly, dark brown orbs now staring straight onto her soul. "No. No ambulance."

Lalisa finds herself breathless under his gaze. "Okay," she murmurs absentmindedly, nodding her head, "okay. No ambulance."

He loosens his grip and shifts to make himself comfortable, and she takes this as a chance to look away from him. When she does, she blinks furiously because the way he stared at her earlier, it felt... it felt different. It was nothing like she's ever experienced.

"Oh no, I'm in big trouble," the man whispers. Lalisa snaps out of her thoughts and gets into work, carefully pressing the wet towel to the wound and he hisses in pain. She squeaks a small sorry before resuming until the wound no longer seeps through the cloth. "So you're one of his, huh? Dear old daddy sent you here find me, didn't he?"

She looks up to see him staring at her face intently, like he's trying to figure out something. "W-what?"

"Don't give me that look-- ah, fuck!"

"I'm so sorry!" Lalisa gasps, snatching her hand away. "I know it hurts but please, please don't move. It'll only make--"

"You're dodging the question," he says through gritted teeth, sweat dropping from his temples.

"I d-don't know w-what you're talking about, mister."

"Surely you don't," the man drawls sarcastically. She tries to ignore his eyes and works on wrapping the gauze around his wrist. "Even without the wings and the celestial aura, I know your kind when I see one."

Wings. Celestial aura. Lalisa's hands become even more clammy. "Kind? What are you--"

"My apologies, I mean our kind." He emits a snort and rolls his eyes in impatience. "Don't act foolish now, come on. Admit it."

"Admit what?"

"You're an angel, aren't you?"

Lalisa freezes. She opens her lips to say something, but nothing comes out. This man has absolutely no idea what he's talking about, maybe he's gone mad, but then again this is probably the side effects of what happened to him.

"And you're still bleeding," she whispers, ignoring the question. His jaw clenches when Lalisa moves to clean the cuts and the gashes on his face and neck, reflexively turning his head away. "How are you even talking..."

The man tenses when the cloth comes in contact with a particular deep gash on his face. "It's fine, it's fine," she mumbles while his eyes shut close, "it's going to be fine. It's okay."

Lalisa focuses on cleaning all of his wounds as much as she can. The man keeps his steady moans and curses, but they eventually quiet down as she works on the last cut on his knee.

When she finishes wrapping him up, Lalisa lets her back fall against the coffee table. She properly takes in the man's appearance, from his disheveled hair down to his ripped clothes. He looks young, with a round face and a straight nose.

He's quite handsome, too, she thinks, with an accentuated jawline and smooth skin--well, if you ignore the cuts. His eyelashes flutter as he sleeps, breathing evenly and albeit more calm than he was earlier.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you," she whispers, unable to stop herself from brushing the hairs falling on his forehead. "You must be in a lot of pain right now."

Slowly, she feels the adrenaline rushing out of her body. Lisa slumps back on the table and hugs her knees to her chest, exhaustion finally seeping into her bones.

When she closes her eyes, sleep pulls her in.

She doesn't realize that she's fallen asleep until her neck throbs in pain, and Lisa reluctantly opens her eyes with the intention of finding pain killers only to see the man looking down at her with an unrecognizable glint in his eye.

"Holy crap!" She shrieks, backing away and accidentally hitting her back against the table. "Ow!"

"So you're really not an angel?" The man asks with his eyebrows raised. He's cradling his charred wrist this time, his thumb rubbing circles against the wrapped gauze.

She gulps, immediately straightening. Dang it, she's still holding the cotton ball and the disinfection bottle. "A-and? Why does it matter?"

He scoffs and stares at her up and down again. "Funny, it would've been such a great irony." His voice turns even quieter when he says, "I thought you looked like Azrael for a moment. I must have been mistaken."

"Please stop talking," she says and hurriedly picks up all the thrown cotton balls to put them in the trash. She made quite the mess, but she figures the man wouldn't care since he seems distraught anyway. "Um, so, you should take a rest now. I'm going to go to my bedroom. Knock if you need me."

"Will do."

Lalisa gives him another look as she throws all the bloodied mess in the garbage bag and heads to her room to finally sleep properly this time around.

Thank the heavens she was able to dodge his question.

An hour later and Lalisa still couldn't get a good night's sleep. It's either one of two reasons: 1) she's probably parched and her throat needs a drop of water or 2) there's literally a wounded stranger sleeping in her couch right now. She thinks it's a mix of both.

Unable to stop her curiosity, she opens her phone--a flimsy device she bought from a store in Hongdae. The bright light of the device illuminates the entire room as she attempts to read the time with half-closed eyes. 3:41 am, it says.

"Ah," she sighs, forcing herself to get out of bed. She opts to go with her first reason: she's thirsty and that is why she's going to go to the kitchen to get a glass of water. She's definitely not going to check on the man--nope, never, no.

But Lalisa soon betrays herself after she pulls open her bedroom door. Her eyes automatically goes to the couch in the living room, but he isn't there. Oh my--

"Looking for me?"

She instantly whips her head to her right and what the heck? The man is just there, standing in front of the living room window looking like he recently left a freaking shampoo commercial with his pushed back hair and his alabaster skin seemingly glowing in the moonlight. The sight of him almost made her lose her footing.

"Oh my God, why are you--" she stutters, voice laced with exhaustion, "are you okay? How are your wounds? Wait, no, where are your wounds?"

His previously scorched and bloodied skin has miraculously transformed into a smooth, almost pale complexion that she isn't sure if she's imagining things. The healing process usually lasts for weeks for mortals but this man... he didn't even last for more than five hours.

The man barely regards her as he crosses his arms. "First of all, I am not your God, thank you very much. Second, I have healing abilities. One of the perks of being immortal." Immortal? "So you see why you shouldn't call for an ambulance. I'm perfectly fine."

She stops.

He just said he's immortal. An immortal! Not to mention, he has an inkling that she's an angel. No mortal could ever know that, unless... but he isn't an angel either. He doesn't have the Holy Grace and the celestial aura, although he obviously has a regenerative healing factor, so that means--

"You're not human, are you?" She finally asks warily, eyeing him from head to toe. There's nothing indifferent about this man, though. On the surface, he looks human, he speaks like one. Acts like one, moves like one. "You caught me, so tell me the truth."

The man beams brightly, eyes glimmering with mirth at her realization. "Surprise!"

"What are you?"

"If I tell you, would you be scared?"

Lalisa scoffs. That is one of the most ridiculous things she has ever heard. With her chin up high, she proudly says, "I'm one of God's warriors. I rarely get scared."

"That's what they all say," he mutters with a snort.

"Get on with it."

He seems satisfied with the reply. "Very well, now, don't get mad at me, okay?" She tilts her head to the side. "I have a feeling you won't like this, but my dear, I'm a demon."

A demon. An angel's rival. Her breathing momentarily stops.

Did God send him? Is this her punishment?

When she doesn't say anything for a moment, the man groans. "Okay, wow. That was so anti-climactic." He shoulders sag and he breathes in deeply. "I thought you'd like, take out your celestial blade and cut me in half or something. It would've been fun."

Her mouth opens and closes like a fish as she struggles to find a reply. "Uh, I don't--" she shakes her head, "I'm not about that life anymore. I, um, I'm actually trying to live as a human right now... which means no powers, no wings, no celestial blade or whatever it is that you're talking about. Just me."

"Oh. And here I was, expecting an epic battle to commence," he says while frowning genuinely. Lisa can't believe this, here were two rivals since the beginning of time, and yet it seems like he does not care about it one bit. "Anyway, so. Human, huh? How's that going for you?"

Lisa blinks. Why does he care? "It's tolerable."

"Tolerable, yeah. That seems like the right word. We're in Seoul, aren't we? South Korea?" The man dives into another topic and walks over as if they were just talking about the weather.

"I'm pretty sure we are." Gulping, Lisa eyes the set of knives just sitting prettily next to the sink. She tries to contain the nervousness bubbling in her stomach and plasters a calm façade, seeing as this creature may or may not kill her at any moment possible. "We're in Namsandong."

He instantly grins, showing off a perfect set of bunny teeth. "That's great. It's just where I need to be."

Interesting. "What brings you here, demon?" she asks bravely. "Are you here to kill me?"

Jeongguk brushes a hand through his hair. "Please. You're not that relevant. I just came here to look for something. It's very, very important, but so far I don't know where it is--yet."

Some of the tension in her body dissipate instantly. She senses the honesty in his words, but there's just something different that she couldn't pinpoint. It's like he isn't telling her everything. "Well, whatever you're looking for, I hope you find it," she offers instead. "Seoul is a big city. Good luck."

"I hope I do."

An awkward tension suddenly hangs in between them. Clearing her throat, she asks, "Um, so, you haven't told me what your name is." She sets down the glass and leans against the counter, casually crossing her arms over her chest. "May I ask what is it?"

"Name? Oh, well, I guess I'm... Jeon... Jeongguk?" It sounds like a question, even the man himself frowned when he said it. "Yeah, I'm Jeon Jeongguk. Pleasure to meet you."

Jeon Jeongguk... huh.

"Um, I also, uh, would like to apologize for what happened earlier." Jeongguk looks at her quizzically. Despite them being on the opposite sides of the spectrum, she still has some manners. "My kind and your kind aren't really... in an agreement with each other, and you might not like it when I touched you."

Ancient rivals, and yet her angel biology still manages to surpass her expectations. God created her kind to be genuine, to be submissive and follow His orders, to always be the big person in every situation. To give, to help, to assist. It's all ingrained within her, no matter how hard she avoids it. So as soon as the apology leaves her mouth, she flinches.

He's a demon, and she just apologized to him.

Jeongguk waves her off, pleased, and takes a confident step towards the couch. "It's fine, doesn't really matter. You can touch me any way you like, anywhere you like," he adds with a wink. Lisa is disgusted. "But I've been thinking, you know, since I'm already here, can I stay with you for a little bit until I find my own place?"

Now that almost sweeps her off her feet. The question was so sudden that she almost chokes on her own spit. No. Lalisa wants to say no. Angels and demons should not be within range of each other. It's always been the unspoken rule that everyone above and below knows. She opens her mouth to disagree, but Jeongguk beats her to it.

"I won't bother you that much and... and I'll pay half of the rent."

Oh. Oh.

Now, listen, if she was still a full-fledged angel, she would definitely disagree. She'd laugh at his face and tell him to leave her alone, and maybe even slap him with the tips of her wings. But she's living as a human now, isn't she? Rent is expensive, and she's at the brink of losing all of her money. The only way to get through this dilemma is to be practical.

Clearly, the offer is something that she couldn't disagree with. So Lalisa quickly prays to all of her brothers and sisters, asks for forgiveness, and takes a deep, long breath. "Before I answer that, I have to ask you a few questions. Make sure to tell me the truth."

"Oh, I will. I never lie," he assures her with a cocky grin. "I promise. Honesty is in my nature."

Yeah, right. "Were you sent by God?"

"The last time God and I talked, he banished me to Hell and almost killed me, so no, I don't think so," Jeongguk replies simply. Then, quietly, he adds, "Why? Have you done something bad, angel?"

She places a hand on her chest, offended. "Of course not! Next question, please." Lisa moves from the kitchen counter to the couch, both of her hands in her back. "Do you know me?"

Jeongguk gives her a do-over from head to toe. Lisa suddenly feels nervous while being scrutinised, but she stands her ground. "Am I supposed to know you?"

If there's something that Lisa was proud about herself, it would be her accurate instincts. She never guesses anything wrong; she knows when someone is lying or telling the truth. And right now, Jeongguk is doing the latter.

"Okay. Truce it is, then," she says, giving him a satisfied smile. "Fair enough. But I'm in charge, yeah? You do as I say. One wrong word and I will actually whip out my blade this time." Jeongguk nods with a roll of his eyes. "With that settled, I should go back to bed. Let's talk about the rules some other time because I still have to go to work tomorrow, so... goodnight, demon."

He gives her a lazy wave of his hand as he plops down the couch. "Sleep tight, angel."

When she goes back to her room, she locks the door.

The following day, the angel leaves the house before the demon could even wake up. She thinks it's best, for she may never know if he's planning something demonic as soon as he's fully healed.

If she stared at his sleeping figure for a little longer than normal, nobody had to know.