Angel

"Sophia, Sophia, time to get up. Didn't you say we were going to the cathedral together today?"

"Ah, hmm, Dad, it's still really early, isn't it?"

"It's not early, it's already nine-thirty."

"Huh?"

Half-asleep, Sophia fumbled around the edge of her bed until she found her phone. She opened it to check the time, and it was already 9:20. She squinted through the gap in the curtains, but only a faint sliver of light touched the floor.

Rubbing her eyes, she rose like a zombie, walked over to the curtains, and yanked them open.

Dense, dark clouds had covered the entire sky as far as she could see, wrapping around the Manhattan district like a dirty rag and leaving the morning city dim and lusterless, as if it were the final moments before sunset.

"Hell, the phone assistant said it would be sunny today. Don't tell me it was giving me the weather for where the phone was manufactured."

Sophia grumbled in dissatisfaction before rushing to get ready.

Today wasn't a day off; she had specifically requested leave to accompany her parents to the cathedral. Her mother's Alzheimer's symptoms were becoming increasingly severe, to the point where they were starting to affect her ability to walk normally.

Her parents were both devout Protestants. In the past, they had frequently gone to St. John the Divine Cathedral to pray, a place that held many of their memories.

Ever since her mother's diagnosis, her father had taken her to the cathedral often, sitting there for the entire day.

The cathedral was one of the few places that could keep her mother exceptionally calm. Even when she didn't seem to recognize anyone, she would still pray to the Lord, hoping for the safety of the child in her arms.

That child, naturally, was Sophia.

Even though she was an adult now, working as a supermarket cashier soon to be replaced by automated equipment.

She changed her clothes, washed up, patted her face—no makeup needed—and kissed her mother, who was being fed oatmeal.

"Oh, this brand of oatmeal hasn't gone out of business yet? I remember it being the flavor I hated most as a kid."

Sophia picked up a slice of bread and spread blueberry jam on it.

"Just about. I heard business is bad now. This flavor is your mother's favorite."

"You're telling me now? No wonder my complaints never did any good back then."

After some casual daily chatter, the family set off for the cathedral shortly after nine-thirty.

"I haven't seen weather like this in a long time. It's going to be a downpour soon, isn't it?"

"There are always a few days like this every year. Let's go."

Her father didn't find the weather strange, perhaps because of his age and the many things he had experienced.

It took some time to reach the cathedral. Sophia pushed the wheelchair while her father greeted a familiar pastor.

"Little Sophia, heavens, how long has it been since I've seen you? The last time we met, you were being chased for a whole block after poking a beehive!"

"Pastor Brand, if you keep that up, no one will dare to confess to you." Sophia rolled her eyes.

"Oh, Kelly, lovely Sophia is already talking back. It seems she really has grown up. May the Lord bless the pious and kind Smith family; all suffering is but temporary. God loves all people."

Brand crouched down, gently patted the hand of Sophia's mother, and offered comfort.

Sophia didn't pay much mind to it. To be honest, despite being born into a Protestant family, she didn't have much faith in God.

Aside from the "OMG" and "holy shit" that hung on her lips.

She seriously suspected that, statistically speaking, knowing how to say those two phrases was enough to count as a believer.

The group found a place to sit. After staying in the cathedral for a while and listening to the faint, continuous prayers coming from her mother's lips, Sophia secretly wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes, needing to breathe some fresh air.

"Mom, how about we go for a walk in the garden?"

Her mother stopped, turned her head, and stared blankly at Sophia for a while before slowly nodding.

Sophia pushed the wheelchair toward the garden, and her father followed.

"It's getting a bit chilly. I should have brought an extra layer. We'll just take one lap, so Kelly doesn't catch a cold." Her father looked up and saw the dark clouds beginning to swirl, but he wasn't concerned about that; he was more worried about whether the sudden drop in temperature would chill Kelly.

Sophia thought the breeze felt refreshing, but she didn't argue with her father.

The blowing wind stirred her hair and the fallen leaves. The air held a strong, fresh, and damp scent—pungent yet slightly sweet.

As they strolled up to a statue, her father looked up at it, a sculpture he had passed countless times, and fell into memory. "Sophia, do you know? Your mother and I had our first kiss right here."

Sophia couldn't imagine what kind of person would choose a cathedral as the location for a first date!

You two really were a match made in heaven.

Sigh, when will I ever meet my own true love?

Sophia listened to her father's love history with boredom while staring at the statue. The longer she looked, the tighter her brow furrowed. She glanced at the sky, then back at the ground, leaving her father confused by her behavior.

"Sophia, what's wrong?"

Sophia hesitated for a long time before pointing tentatively at the statue's head. "Dad, it hasn't started raining yet, has it?"

Her father nodded. Although the clouds were thick, no rain had fallen yet. He raised his eyes, followed the direction Sophia was pointing, and focused on the statue's head. He saw two trails of tears slowly flowing from the statue's eyes, dripping onto its chest.

Her father's mouth fell open. He looked closely at other parts of the statue, confirming that only the eyes were shedding water while the rest remained dry.

Passersby heard Sophia's words, took a look, and then covered their mouths in awe, whispering, "OMG."

There weren't many people in the garden, but they gathered together, attracting others who had just arrived.

As time passed, the crowd of onlookers grew larger and larger.

"Please, make way, make way! I am Pastor Brand, please let me through first."

Pastor Brand had run all the way there, and upon seeing so many people, he realized that the reporter had not been exaggerating.

As a veteran pastor, he still held authority among the believers, and they parted to clear a path for him toward the statue, right beside the Smith family.

"Oh, Smith, were you the first to see this?" Brand fixed his gaze on the statue's weeping, then asked.

"No, it was Sophia who saw it first." Smith pointed toward Sophia.

Sophia nodded, then described what she had discovered.

The people gathered around listened intently.

"Is this... considered a miracle? Could it be some kind of, uh, principle? I think I've seen similar things on the news." Sophia used her limited vocabulary to organize her words so as not to be offensive.

Brand did not refute her; instead, he nodded seriously. "I need to verify this."

As a devout believer, Brand did not need so-called manifestations to solidify his faith. On the contrary, he was very reluctant to see such things happen; after all, outside of Mass, such occurrences often heralded bad omens.

The only thing to be thankful for now was that it was not Jesus weeping, but the angel Michael.

The most famous achievement of this angel was likely his long war against Satan, whom he defeated through his steadfast faith.

Wait. Thinking of this, Brand suddenly broke out in a cold sweat.

The implication of Michael, who had defeated Satan, weeping was far too straightforward.

Could it be that Satan, the devil, was about to return to the human world?!

No, no, no, this is a scientific principle. Right, don't scare yourself.

For the first time in his life, Brand tried hard to use science to convince himself not to believe in the mystical.

But Murphy's Law could also be considered a kind of science.

And so, under the direct gaze of many incredulous eyes and amidst cries of "OMG," the Archangel Michael, who had legendarily defeated the devil Satan, moved.