Mikhail tugged Shen Dan’s arm, but the man wouldn’t budge. As if someone had hit the “pause” button in the middle of a movie, he and everyone else in the mall were frozen in place. 

In the blink of an eye, the Santa vanished.

In another blink of an eye, the Santa popped out from behind Shen Dan.

Walking a pair of fingers up Shen Dan’s shoulder, the Santa exclaimed, “Have you heard? It’s terrible news! This year, there will be no snow. Christmas is ruined~”

Mikhail had meanwhile snatched an umbrella off a similarly-frozen bystander. He whacked the Santa on the top of his Christmas-capped head, causing him to stumble backwards.

Mikhail: “Don’t fucking touch him!”

The Santa: “Weahhh!!” ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥᷄⌓˂̣̣̥᷅ )‧º·˚

Mikhail: “What do you want from me? Are you an elf? A fairy?”

The Santa: “Warmer. Warmer.”

Mikhail: “D-d-demon?”

The Santa did a little shimmy. “Teehee~~”

“Is this all a joke to you?! Don’t fuck with me!” Mikhail pulled the bingo sheet out of his pocket and slapped around the Santa’s face with it. “I’ve been playing your dumbass game, but it’s impossible to win! You said it yourself, it’s not going to snow! I’m going to turn into a pine needle and there’s nothing I can fucking do about it!”

“Ooh, owchie! But I came to—ow—help you. Ho-ho-ho, have a lookie at this Bag o’ Snow!” 

The Santa, whose beard was now in the process of falling off, pulled a red cloth bag out from his sleeve. With glittering eyes, he stuffed it into Mikhail’s pocket and said, “Just an itty-bitty sprinkle will ensure that snow abounds! Weeeeeeee~” 

“Why should I trust—”

Suddenly, the sound of a trumpet split the silent air. 

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Mikhail looked up. 

Four pillars of light shot through the air from the glass ceiling above, shimmering like doors surrounding them at cardinal points. 

Before Mikhail could shout “what the fuck,” from the northern “door,” a white cloth shoe phased out.  

A winged woman with long, flowing platinum-blonde hair took two steps into the mall. 

Like a sniper rifle, her pale-blue eyes were trained on the Santa dancing in place beside Mikhail. If Shen Dan’s expression seemed cold at first glance, this winged woman’s expression was positively sub-arctic. Above her head, a shifting halo of golden light spun with incomprehensible sigils. She flexed her hand and in an affectless voice said: 

“System, retrieve Elysium Bow from inventory.”

There came a flash of white light. A golden bow materialized out of nowhere, which she snatched out of the air. 

Out of the southern, eastern, and western “doors,” three more long-haired winged angels stepped out. Each one wore a small eyepiece over their left eye that resembled a “scouter” from Dragoon Ball P. When they had both Mikhail and the Santa successfully surrounded, the three additional angels all materialized golden bows and arrows in their hands as well. They pointed them towards the center threateningly.  

The woman with platinum blonde hair said, “Experiment 112-B, you have violated ontological order and are being taken into custody by the Universal Order. Come quietly, or I will be forced to delete you from the environment.”

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At first, there was only silence.

Then, from the Santa, there came a soft giggle. 

“You better watch out, you better not cry~”

As the soft giggle intensified into a maniacal, grade-A villain cackling, the angels unflinchingly drew their bows.

Mikhail was meanwhile pretending to be frozen along with the other mall-goers. Only his wide eyes panickedly rolled around in their sockets. 

Hello! Can’t you see there’s an innocent bystander here, too! Those arrows better not have an AoE! 

The Santa ripped off his costume, revealing his true form: a young man with wild, silver hair streaked with red and green, painted-black fingernails, and a frightening array of scars. The Santa—or, rather, Experiment 112-B—reached into the pocket of his red and white robes and pulled out an enormous black sword. 

“You better not pout, I’m tellin’ you why~”

The angels let their arrows fly. 

Whoosh—Ting! Ting! Ting! Ting! 

Each of the four angels’ arrows was parried by the black sword, exploding into nothing but snowflakes. Experiment 112-B did a backflip into the air and knocked one of the flying angels onto the ground, then corkscrewed towards a second angel, all the while singing in falsetto:

“Santa Claus has come to town, babyyyyy~~”

Mikhail: “…”

Sparks flew as the platinum-blonde woman’s sword joined the fray. The two traded blows faster than the eye could track. But after engaging in close combat for a few minutes, Experiment 112-B must have gotten bored. Jumping off the top of her halo like a springboard, he crawled up the wall like a spider, then launched himself through the glass ceiling with a hoot. 

One of the angels put a finger to his eyepiece. “Target has fled! Send backup—”

He was stopped mid-sentence by a second angel: “No backup! You know Raphael prefers to work alone. We’re lucky she’s letting us shadow her today.”

The platinum-blonde angel grunted. She straightened her crooked halo, then strung her Elysium Bow, drawing her hand back past her ear. 

When she released her fingers, a flurry of arrows made of golden light rocketed through the hole in the ceiling at lightspeed, followed by a distant voice howling, “Yeeowchhhh!”

It would seem at least one of her arrows had hit its mark. 

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

The angel Raphael spread her wings. With one massive flap that knocked Mikhail onto his ass, she catapulted through the hole in the ceiling. The three other “shadowing” angels spread their wings and followed after her. The moment they disappeared, the “play” button must have been pushed on reality, because the mall returned to life. People who were frozen mid-step, mid-conversation, and mid-purchase continued as if nothing strange had happened—Shen Dan included. 

As for Shen Dan, the last thing he had heard was Mikhail shouting “you” and pointing. 

“What is it?” Shen Dan asked, peering around. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he glanced at Mikhail who was sitting on the floor. He grimaced. “Mikhail, don’t wear that kind of expression in public. You’ll frighten children.”

Mikhail’s eyes were soulless, his mouth shriveled to a dot. His skin was almost grey from shock. To say that he looked as though he’d seen a demon would be to hit the nail on the head.

Mikhail: “…” 

Shen Dan reached over and helped Mikhail to his feet. He massaged Mikhail’s cheeks, hoping to add some color to them. “If you aren’t feeling well, let’s go home. Tonight, you can sleep in my bed with me.”

Mikhail: “…”

Shen Dan, taking Mikhail’s silence for agreement, smiled. He tugged Mikhail along by the arm.

Mikhail, meanwhile in a daze, put his hand into his pocket.

The red cloth bag was still there.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

After Manager Wei returned and dropped Shen Dan and Mikhail off at the house, Mikhail lingered for a moment in the front yard. He pulled out the red cloth bag that Experiment 112-B had put into his pocket.

The demon had called it a “Bag o’ Snow.”

“Just an itty-bitty sprinkle will ensure that snow abounds!”

Mikhail opened the red cloth bag. He peered inside, then gave it a sniff. It appeared to be full of granulated sugar.

I’m already going to be turned into a pine needle in a few days. What’s the worst that can happen? 

Holding the Bag o’ Snow, Mikhail took a step forward. 

Unfortunately, owing to Shen Dan’s earlier explanation, the “bunny ears” on Mikhail’s neon yellow basketball shoes had recently come undone. He promptly tripped over the laces and went sprawling face-down onto the lawn. 

When he got back up, he discovered that he had dumped the entire contents of the Bag o’ Snow onto the grass in a white mound.

The result was anything but an itty-bitty sprinkle.

Emitting a shriek, Mikhail scrambled to scoop the “sugar” back into the red cloth bag. At that precise moment, an ill-timed 30mph gust of wind blew down the street. The pile of sugar was kicked up into the sky and disappeared without a trace. 

Fuuuuuuuuuuck.

Suddenly, the sound of a trumpet split the silent air. 

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“It was an accident! Please, don’t delete me!” Mikhail screamed, covering his face.

The trumpeting got louder and louder. 

It was followed by the sound of a clarinet, and then an oboe.

Mikhail peeked out between his fingers.

Rounding the corner of the street was a high school marching band. They were playing an instrumental version of “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” in preparation for a local Christmas parade. As the marching band passed in front of Shen Dan’s house, a few of the students stared at Mikhail, who was still trembling with his hands covering his face.

Mikhail: “…”

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That night, curled up at the edge of Shen Dan’s mattress, Mikhail had a nightmare. There were beads of sweat on his brow, and in between kicking his legs out, he kept mumbling, “Shen… Shen Dan… Don’t throw me… away… I’m still human, I’m n-not…”

Only when a pair of warm arms pulled him in close did he finally relax and sleep soundly. 

Outside, at the stroke of midnight, a single snowflake floated down from the sky.

It was followed by two more. Then three.

The night was cold and long. In the distance, amid the hooting of owls, a faint “teehee” could be heard.