「“Uriel. What on earth were you thinking when you brought those ‘lambs’?”」

The archangel Uriel still remembered that day.

「“Hey, does that guy even know what kind of ‘lambs’ the Scribe told us to bring?”」

The voices of the seraphim whispering as they watched the lambs she was dragging along.

Uriel frowned at them and thought.

How was she supposed to know what “lambs” meant. It was better to take one more demon head in the time it took to worry about that kind of crap.

「“Anyway, I brought ten of them, didn’t I?”」

Her calling was to hunt demons and kill Demon Kings. Archangel Uriel had been born for that alone.

Countless demonfolk had met their end beneath her swordsmanship.

Demon King. Demon Emperor. Demon God.

If it had “demon” on it, no star escaped her blade. For hundreds, or perhaps thousands of years, the light of the stars that belonged to “absolute evil” went out one by one.

During that immeasurable time of lawlessness, the universe she belonged to slowly grew darker.

「“Why do you kill demons?”」

When had she been asked that question? Was it when she heard that a new Demon King had risen in the frontier?

「“Because I was ordered to.”」

「“If it’s an order, will you kill anyone?”」

「“Yeah.”」

Just as she said, Uriel even killed the Demon King’s lover. Because that too was an order she had received.

「“Archangel. You’re just like a demon.”」

The Demon King, holding his dying lover in his arms, poured out a quiet curse.

「“Archangel who loves nothing. One day you too will come to love something. When that time comes, the flames you’ve raised will judge you.”」

「“Whatever.”」

Uriel laughed at those words and cut off the Demon King’s neck.

‘Demonic Judge of Fire.’

That was how the epithet that made archangels revere her and absolute evil fear her was decided.

True to her epithet, she killed Demon Kings. She cut them, stabbed them, severed their heads. How many Demon Kings had she killed like that?

「“Uriel. Cease your ‘demon hunting.’”」

One day, her mission was halted. Because too many Demon Kings had died.

「“A truce has been signed.”」

The first time she heard talk of a truce, Uriel was sure the Scribe was making a fuss over nothing again.

But when a year passed, and ten years passed, and then half a century went by without the war flaring up again, Uriel realized something was wrong.

「“Hold on. It’s actually a real truce?”」

「“Uriel. I’m fairly certain I told you that fifty years ago.”」

「“No, but really really?”」

「“Really really.”」

「“Then I can’t kill Demon Kings anymore?”」

「“You cannot.”」

Uriel was dumbfounded.

She was a being born to annihilate all Demon Kings.

She hadn’t run all this way just to obtain some half-baked peace, to face this kind of ending.

「“No. I’m going to keep killing them. I’ll kill every last one of them!”」

In the end, only after being bound and dragged away by Jophiel’s [Shackles of Good and Evil] did Uriel sign the written pledge.

「“I swear in the name of the archangel that from now on, unless the Scribe orders it, I will never lay a hand on Demon Kings… ■damn. Then what am I supposed to do now? If I can’t even kill demonfolk—”」

「“Must you kill something?”」

「“Then what?”」

「“You could look after lambs, for instance.”」

At first, she thought it was a joke.

「“Lambs? What lambs?”」

Uriel was assigned to Sector 8 of the Garden of <Eden>— the “Sheep Ranch.”

「“You’re kidding me.”」

「“This time I’m not. And don’t ask again in fifty years.”」

What on earth was going on.

How had the archangel who’d been beating demons to a pulp until the day before suddenly become a mere shepherd.

Right then, a lamb came bleating toward her.

Uriel reflexively moved her hand and chopped the lamb’s head with a karate strike. As the lamb collapsed to the grass with a thud, a lower-rank angel who’d witnessed the scene ran over screaming.

「“U-U-Uriel! What do you think you’re doing!”」

「“It came at me first.”」

「“Because it was happy to see you! It was happy!”」

Uriel, sounding like she couldn’t care less, asked back in an irritated voice,

「“And who are you.”」

「“Did the Scribe not tell you anything at all?”」

That was the lower-rank shepherd angel whose name she could no longer remember.

「“I… just call me Teacher Yang.”」

It was her first meeting with “Teacher Yang.”

*

Originally, there had been no sheep in the Garden of Eden. Before Uriel brought the lambs that day, <Eden>’s “lambs” had been a metaphor, nothing more.

「“You’re saying these are the descendants of those lambs?”」

But that metaphor had become real now.

「“Yes.”」

「“Don’t be ridiculous. I only brought ten of them.”」

「“How many years do you think have passed since then?”」

Uriel stared blankly at the lambs running around the garden.

One lamb, two lambs, three lambs, four lambs.

So many that you could fall asleep just trying to count them.

She snapped back to herself and asked quickly,

「“Where are the ones I brought?”」

「“Uriel. Once again, how many years do you think—”」

They said the lambs she had brought were already dead. A very long time ago.

They had lived out their lifespans and died without her ever noticing. But they’d had many offspring.

So the ten lambs of the Garden of Eden had become twenty, then thirty, and then surpassed a hundred. And now—

「“Did you really not know? Our lambs are quite famous.”」

There had been so many lambs that they sometimes made cameo appearances in the dreams of humans.

「“A little while back, we even gave some to the goddess Artemis when she came by for a visit.”」

Sometimes they even sent lambs as gifts to gods from other nebulae.

Listening to Teacher Yang’s bragging with one ear and letting it out the other, Uriel asked,

「“How many ranches like this are there?”」

「“There are seventy-two in total.”」

Uriel tried to picture lambs hopping around seventy-two gardens. But she couldn’t.

「“It’s all thanks to you, Uriel.”」

「“What is.”」

「“We gained this peace thanks to you defeating the Demon Kings.”」

She saw the lamb that had been knocked out earlier getting back up. Shaking its head, the lamb staggered toward Uriel again. Teacher Yang bent down and patted the lamb’s head. The lamb looked up at Uriel with a stupid expression, then went back to nibbling on the grass.

Watching the lamb, Uriel slowly sat down.

It was clearly a lamb she had never seen before. But looking closely, it also seemed like the descendant of one of the ones she’d brought, long ago.

「“I see.”」

She didn’t know what meaning there had been in the time she’d lived.

She only knew that as she counted the endlessly stretching line of lambs, for the first time in half a century she admitted she’d been “temporarily” released from her mission.

But that was the problem.

What was an archangel, who had spent thousands of years living by cutting demon necks, supposed to do now?

Watching lambs and counting lambs was fine for a day or two, but she couldn’t play the shepherd forever—

「“Hm?”」

Uriel noticed Teacher Yang beside her, watching something on a handheld device.

「“You. What’s that.”」

「“P-please give it back!”」

「“What are you watching with this.”」

「“Sh-sheep.”」

「“Sheep?”」

She later found out that Teacher Yang was addicted to “constellation-stream broadcasts.”

「“I mean… the ‘lambs’ in the metaphorical sense.”」

Squinting, Uriel glared at the small handheld device in Teacher Yang’s hand.

A video was playing on the device.

「“Calm down, Yoo Sangah.”」

And before long, Uriel came to understand for the first time what “lambs” Metatron had been talking about.

「“Think of it like this. As if you’ve gone into that game.”」

*

Now it was all a faint story from the distant past. Not that that much time had actually passed, but when Uriel looked back on that period, she sometimes felt a strange sense of remoteness.

「“Uriel.”」

A lot had happened after that.

The Holy Demon Great War broke out again, and she returned to the battlefield.

<Eden> was destroyed.

The Scribe and the other archangels died, and the seraphim who had mocked her when she brought the lambs all died as well.

「“What about the lambs.”」

Teacher Yang had said,

「“Today was the day we were supposed to shear them…”」

With that stupid last line, he died without leaving behind any tale.

Uriel still didn’t know his name.

On the small garden where all the scenarios had concluded. In <Eden>, where not a single lamb was left, she remained alone.

Sometimes she went down to the surface and interacted with incarnations, sometimes she met Gabriel, and when the mood struck her she danced or sang, but for the most part, she stayed in this garden.

She slept in this garden and sometimes ate something.

And she watched one story.

「“Uriel. You know, right. This is just that kind of story.”」

She watched one star die, over and over.

The only tale she’d managed to preserve in that ruined world.

The protagonist of that tale no longer existed in this world. There was no star who knew where he had gone.

Even knowing that fact— or perhaps precisely because she knew it, Uriel did nothing and kept watching the tale.

And sometimes she thought about lambs.

She dreamed of a man who had become a lamb, living somewhere she didn’t know.

In that world, the man would meet new companions and live through a new history. Without her knowing, he would have made another family.

[It has been a while. ‘Great one’ of Eden.]

For a moment, Uriel thought she’d heard wrong. Was it a dream?

[My, my. You’re still watching this tale?]

No matter how she thought about it, he was someone who couldn’t appear here. Because in her memory, he’d found his ■■ and perished.

No, wait, had he really died? She wasn’t sure.

She didn’t know anything about the end he’d met upon reaching ■■.

To be honest, she hadn’t been very interested.

[You still like this story, I see. You’re nothing if not persistent.]

In any case, he spoke to her in the familiar way.

[But having watched this much, isn’t it about time you started getting curious about the next episode?]

The next episode.

[There’s a place where you can see the next story.]

Maybe this was an illusion. Maybe she was hearing things because she’d watched one tale for too long. Even so, Uriel wanted to believe his words.

[But remember this. In that place, all you can do is watch the story. You can’t interfere or intervene in any way.]

Even if it was an illusion, that was fine. As long as she could see that star once more.

[Ah, one last thing. To enter that place, you’ll need a new epithet. It’s a place with some rather peculiar rules.]

The owner of the voice watched the scenery of the dream and nodded.

[Hm, there are a lot of lambs in your dream. That’s convenient. To get in there, there absolutely has to be an ‘animal’ in your epithet.]

And that was how Uriel came to this “scenario.”

[Your temporary epithet is ‘The One Who Brought Ten Lambs.’]
[You are carrying out a ‘role’ in this scenario.]
[Your role is ‘Ms. Lamb.’]
[You absolutely cannot interfere with the development of the scenario.]

Uriel was grateful for her own history.

She was truly glad she had brought those ten little lambs to Eden back then.

She was glad she had met Teacher Yang.

She was glad she had been the “Demonic Judge of Fire,” the archangel of Eden.

“Thank you, Uriel.”

The door of the faculty office was closing.

Uriel staggered toward the closing door.

“Dok…”

Tztztzt, a faint spark flickered.

Even though it was a name permitted in this world view, the precursors of backlash trembled in the air.

The world view °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° had probably realized it. That the name she’d just called was not just the name of a “role” that existed in this world view.

[The world system warns you.]

It was the story she loved more than any other.

With all her strength, Uriel shouted that name.

The door did not open.

*

The office door closed, and beyond it the voice of the archangel I knew echoed.

My heart pounded hard.

So Ms. Lamb had really been Uriel.

Strictly speaking, not the “Uriel” of this world line, but the Uriel from the third round that I remembered.

The “Demonic Judge of Fire” who had loved Kim Dokja’s story more than anyone.

Just once, I had wanted to call her name.

Even if I couldn’t become the real Kim Dokja she’d been searching for, I wanted to repay the history she had lived. Even if, in exchange, I received the punishment of this world view.

I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the backlash of Plausibility that would come surging through the air.

But no matter how long I waited, the backlash didn’t come.

[My, my.]

Instead, a deep, weighty voice was heard.

[Calling that ‘name’ here is against the rules, you know.]

The principal’s office, where pitch-black darkness had settled.

“Those words you just said sound like they’re against the rules too.”

[Ah, that, you see.]

Light slowly spread through the principal’s office, and the principal’s face came into view.

[This ‘principal’s office’ is an exception.]

Sitting there was the Recycling Center Head.