Baiju had absolutely no clue what was happening to him.
The entire day had been a disaster from start to finish. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't concentrate on anything except the damned golden slip of paper floating above his friend's head. He had asked other people about it several times, each attempt sounding more unhinged than the last, but it was completely useless. Not a single person could see it.
Just him.
Only him.
Which meant one of two things.
Either the floating paper was real...
Or he was finally losing his mind.
Rubbing his forehead hard enough to nearly give himself a second injury, Baiju glanced toward his friend again.
The golden slip was still there.
Floating.
Mocking him.
As if sensing his attention, it even shimmered slightly.
Baiju nearly screamed.
This was seriously the worst possible time for his brain to stop functioning properly. Finals were right around the corner. He should have been studying, memorizing formulas, cramming enough information into his head to survive the coming academic slaughter.
Instead, every time he tried to focus on anything else, the stupid golden paper would glow brighter.
Almost like it wanted him to look at it.
"Why?" he muttered miserably, dropping his head onto the desk. "Why me?!"
The small bump on his forehead throbbed.
Honestly, the timing was suspicious.
He had gotten drunk, smashed his head into a pole, passed out, and now he was seeing floating golden paper. The sequence of events seemed pretty straightforward.
His brain was broken.
Yes.
That had to be it.
Feeling oddly relieved to have reached a conclusion, Baiju sat up and nodded to himself.
He needed a hospital.
Scans.
Tests.
Maybe a psychiatrist.
Definitely a psychiatrist.
Whatever was wrong with him, modern medicine would fix it.
With renewed determination, he stuffed his wallet and a few necessities into his satchel before heading toward the door.
"Yo, where are you going?" his roommate called from across the dorm room. "I thought we were going to prepare for our finals together."
"Sorry, man." Baiju shoved his feet into his shoes. "I need to get my head checked. Something is definitely wrong with me."
His roommate blinked.
"...What?"
"My brain is malfunctioning."
"Baiju, what does that even mean?"
"It means if I don't come back, tell my mother I loved her."
"Stop being dramatic."
"But you promised we'd study together!"
Ignoring the wounded whining behind him, Baiju escaped before his friend could physically drag him back to a desk and force-feed him textbooks.
The nearby hospital wasn't far from campus, and before long he found himself sitting in the waiting room.
Waiting.
And waiting.
And waiting some more.
Hospitals seemed to operate in a completely different dimension where time moved slower. By the time his name was finally called, Baiju was fairly certain he had completed an entire degree program while sitting in that chair.
"Mr. Baiju?"
He immediately jumped to his feet and hurried into the office.
The doctor, a kindly older man with silver hair and rectangular glasses, glanced down at the file in front of him.
"Mr. Baiju. Good afternoon. I see you've written that you've been seeing things. Is that correct?"
"Yes!" Baiju said immediately. "Exactly. Last night I got drunk, hit my head on a pole, and I think it scrambled my brain."
The doctor's eyebrows rose slightly.
"I see."
That was not a comforting response.
"Please answer a few questions for me. Did you feel dizzy after the injury? Any nausea or vomiting?"
Baiju thought carefully.
The memories of last night were frustratingly blurry.
He remembered drinking.
He remembered falling.
He remembered embarrassment.
And...
"Oh."
The doctor looked up.
"Oh?"
"I definitely threw up."
"After hitting your head?"
"Technically."
The doctor frowned.
"Technically?"
Baiju coughed.
"It was on a person."
The doctor stared at him.
Baiju stared back.
The silence stretched painfully.
"...I was very drunk," Baiju offered weakly.
The doctor pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing.
"Were you dizzy?"
"Very."
"Did you lose consciousness?"
"I think so."
The doctor's expression immediately became serious.
"In that case, we should run some tests right away. There is a possibility of internal bleeding."
Baiju went pale.
"Internal bleeding?"
"It is only a possibility."
"That sounds bad."
"It can be."
"That sounds very bad."
The doctor summoned a nurse.
Baiju suddenly regretted every life decision that had brought him to this point.
The next several hours passed in a blur of examinations.
CT scans. Questions. More questions. Machines. More machines.
At one point he was fairly certain he had become a science project.
By the time everything was finally completed, the sun had already begun setting outside.
Exhausted, Baiju sat in the waiting room rubbing his forehead while trying not to imagine his brain leaking internally.
A nurse eventually appeared.
"Mr. Baiju. The doctor will see you now."
Baiju immediately stood.
This was it.
The moment of truth.
Either he was healthy or his brain was secretly melting.
Neither option felt particularly reassuring.
He entered the office anxiously.
The doctor was reviewing the results with a serious expression.
Baiju's stomach dropped.
"Is something wrong with me?"
The older man adjusted his glasses before looking up.
Then he smiled.
"You have no issues at all. You're completely healthy, Mr. Baiju."
For a moment Baiju simply stared.
Then he let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding.
Relief hit him so hard he nearly collapsed into the chair.
"Oh my God."
The doctor chuckled.
"I thought something was seriously wrong with me," Baiju admitted. "I was seeing things. There was this golden slip floating over my friend's head and it was driving me insane. Completely insane."
"Physically, there appears to be nothing wrong with you," the doctor said. "However, if you continue experiencing visual abnormalities, I would recommend speaking with a psychiatrist."
Baiju immediately shook his head.
"Nah. Nothing's wrong with me."
The doctor gave him a look.
The sort of look doctors reserved for patients who clearly had something wrong with them.
Fortunately, he didn't argue.
After collecting his reports and paying the bill, Baiju practically floated out of the hospital.
A huge grin stretched across his face.
"Nothing's wrong with me," he sang happily as he headed toward the bus stop. "I'm perfectly healthy. Completely normal. Totally sane."
The golden paper issue suddenly felt much less terrifying.
Maybe he had simply been exhausted.
Maybe he needed sleep.
Maybe his brain had temporarily decided to entertain itself.
Whatever the case, he wasn't dying. That alone felt worth celebrating.
The hospital happened to be near the bar where he'd gone drinking the previous night. As he walked down the familiar street, his thoughts inevitably drifted toward another unfortunate matter.
The man he'd thrown up on.
Baiju grimaced.
"I seriously need to stop drinking."
He tried to remember the man's face again, but strangely, nothing came to mind.
It was as if someone had taken a brush and smeared the memory away. No matter how hard he concentrated, the stranger's features remained frustratingly blank. Yet while his face was gone, the clothes were crystal clear in Baiju's mind.
Flowing white robes.
Traditional Chinese-style clothing, the sort one would normally only see in historical dramas. The fabric had been slightly singed in places, as though the wearer had narrowly escaped a fire before suffering the far greater tragedy of getting vomited on by a drunk college student.
The memory made Baiju cringe.
Suddenly, something white caught his eye.
A familiar sleeve fluttered from behind a narrow alley beside the bar.
The fabric swayed gently in the evening breeze.
For some reason, it looked almost inviting.
Calling him closer.
Baiju frowned.
That was ridiculous.
Sleeves did not call people.
And yet his feet were already moving.
Before he fully realized what he was doing, he had reached out and grabbed the flowing fabric.
The sleeve, unfortunately, turned out to be attached to a person.
Baiju froze.
Slowly, his gaze traveled upward.
Past the elegant hand hidden beneath the robe.
Past the slender figure wrapped in flowing white.
And finally...
To the man's face.
For a moment, his brain stopped functioning.
The stranger was absurdly handsome.
No, handsome wasn't enough.
Beautiful wasn't enough either.
The man looked as though some celestial artist had spent centuries crafting him before finally deciding he was too perfect to remain in heaven and tossing him down into the mortal world out of pure spite.
Long black hair flowed over his shoulders like silk. His skin was pale and flawless beneath the evening light, almost seeming to glow softly against the darkening street. Narrow eyes stared at Baiju in visible shock, framed by lashes long enough to make most women jealous. His lips were soft and pink, slightly parted to reveal the faintest glimpse of white teeth.
Everything about him was refined.
Elegant.
Almost unreal.
The type of face that would probably start wars if given enough time.
It was...
A very tempting sight.
Baiju's thoughts came to a screeching halt.
"...Huh?"
His eyes widened.
Tempting?
Tempting?!
What kind of thought was that?
Since when did he look at random men and describe them as tempting?
Mortified, Baiju immediately released the sleeve as though it had burned him.
"Sorry!" he blurted. "I didn't mean to grab you. I just—actually, I have no explanation for that. Sorry."
The man simply stared at him.
Unblinking.
Motionless.
Still looking completely stunned.
Under that gaze, Baiju began feeling increasingly awkward.
Then his eyes drifted downward.
Toward the stains on the robe.
Recognition struck.
"Oh."
The stranger's expression darkened instantly.
"Oh no."
Baiju rubbed the back of his neck.
"I think... you're the guy I threw up on yesterday."
The man's eye twitched.
"Right. About that." Baiju laughed nervously. "Sorry. Again. Really sorry. I can pay for dry cleaning."
The stranger's lips slowly parted.
"You..."
His voice was soft. Far softer than Baiju expected.
It was smooth and pleasant, carrying a strangely ethereal quality that seemed completely out of place on a noisy city street.
For a brief moment, Baiju found himself distracted again.
"What?"
"You..."
The man's voice trembled.
Then suddenly—
"You are that unruly human who desecrated my robes!"
The shout exploded through the street.
Baiju nearly jumped out of his skin.
"I-I really didn't mean to!"
"You!"
The beautiful stranger pointed at him accusingly.
"You stinky human! Why did you have to do this to me?!"
Baiju opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Nothing came out.
The man didn't seem interested in hearing an answer anyway.
"I'm already suffering enough!" he continued, eyes growing red. "Why did you have to soil my only robe? I hate you! I hate this world!"
To Baiju's horror, tears immediately began gathering in those beautiful eyes.
"I was forced to eat a worm!"
"...What?"
"A worm!" the man repeated, sounding deeply traumatized. "Do you know how humiliating that is?"
Baiju honestly didn't know how to respond.
The stranger took his silence as encouragement.
"You humans have no idea how difficult my life has become! I am accustomed to being served hand and foot. Yet here I can't even wash my hands for free!"
His voice rose dramatically.
"Why does water cost money?!"
Several pedestrians turned to look.
The stranger pointed accusingly at the sky.
"We gods gave water to humanity for free! Why are you charging each other for it?!"
Baiju stared.
The stranger stared back.
"...Sir."
"WHAT?"
"I really think you should see a doctor."
The man looked offended.
Deeply offended.
"I drink ambrosia to moisten my throat, yet some bug-selling woman gave me water in a dirty green cup!"
"What?"
"What even was that material?"
"...Plastic?"
"Disgusting."
Baiju slowly stepped backward.
The stranger followed.
"I wish to eat heavenly fruits."
"..."
"I'm starving."
"..."
"This world is cruel."
Baiju turned and began walking away.
Unfortunately, the lunatic followed him.
"I miss ambrosia!"
"What even is ambrosia?" Baiju muttered.
"I miss heavenly peaches!"
"What is a heavenly peach?"
"I miss servants!"
"You definitely need therapy."
The stranger ignored him. Instead, he continued listing grievances with the intensity of a man filing formal complaints against existence itself.
By this point, Baiju had accepted that he had somehow encountered the most attractive lunatic in the city.
"Dude," he finally snapped, turning around. "Why the hell are you following me?"
The stranger looked genuinely confused.
"Why?"
"Yes, why?"
"Because you ruined my day."
"..."
"And therefore you must compensate me."
Baiju stared at him for several seconds. Then sighed and pulled a few bills from his wallet. "Here."
The stranger blinked.
Baiju held out the money. "Take it and leave me alone."
The beautiful lunatic stared at the cash. Then his eyes widened in outrage. "You think these pathetic scraps of paper can solve my problems?"
"...Yes?"
"You!"
The stranger's face crumpled.
Then, to Baiju's horror—
He started crying.
"Oh God."
Pedestrians immediately slowed down.
"Stop crying," Baiju hissed.
"I don't care!"
"Everyone is looking!"
"I said I don't care!"
Tears streamed down the stranger's cheeks.
The sight was honestly devastating.
His eyes had turned a delicate pink, tears clinging to impossibly long lashes before sliding down smooth pale skin. It should have looked messy.
Instead, he somehow became even prettier.
Baiju wasn't sure whether to comfort him, apologize again, or demand compensation from the heavens for creating such a face and attaching it to a complete disaster of a person.
"I am going to lose my position as a god," the stranger sniffled miserably. "Do you know how much that hurts?"
Several more clicks were heard as people were taking photos randomly.
"Shit." Without hesitation, Baiju grabbed his arm.
The stranger gasped. "How dare you touch my holy hand!"
"Move."
"You will rot in hell for this sin!"
"Sure."
"I curse your descendants for ten generations!"
"Fantastic."
Still ranting, crying, and threatening divine punishment, the stranger allowed himself to be dragged away.
Only after they reached a quieter side street did Baiju finally stop. He released the man's arm and let out a long sigh. "Look," he said, rubbing his temples. "I was drunk. I screwed up. That doesn't excuse it."
The stranger sniffled.
"So to make up for it, I'll buy you new clothes."
The sniffles stopped slightly.
"And food."
The stranger froze. Slowly, very slowly, he looked up. A tear still hung from one long eyelash.
"Food?" he repeated.
Baiju immediately sensed danger.
"What kind of food?" the stranger asked with deadly seriousness.
Baiju stared.
The man stared back.
"...Tasty food?"
The stranger's eyes began sparkling.