After Kairos finished eating, he stood up and carried his empty plate to the kitchen sink and began washing it.
"There you go," he muttered, gently placing the plate into a dish. "Just like mother always said—'Cleanliness is next to godliness.'"
A soft voice spoke behind him. "Is that what you think of yourself?"
Kairos turned around slowly.
"Do you think you're a god?" she asked. Her tone was calm, but her eyes held something deeper.
Kairos leaned back against the sink, folding his arms. "Didn't even hear you come in," he said smoothly. He walked over and sat on the wooden stool beside the table. "To answer your question—no. I don't think I'm a god."
He paused for a moment, fingers brushing the edge of the table.
"But I do believe… there's something greater than us. Something out there that stands with those who try to do the right thing."
Myra leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. Her eyes lowered. "Then why does this being allow suffering?" she asked quietly. "If it's real, if it's truly there… then why is there pain? Why must people break and bleed and grieve?"
Kairos tapped his fingers slowly on the table. "My Myra," he said gently. "I understand what you're saying." He sighed, gazing out the window, the light dimming with the approaching evening. "It's easy to think that suffering means there's no one watching. But maybe… the trials we face—they're meant to shape us. Strengthen us. Not destroy us."
She looked up. Her voice dropped lower. "You do know the godly realm is right next to this one, don't you?"
He nodded once.
"So… are you saying the Celestial Supreme is the being you're talking about?"
Kairos chuckled softly and shook his head. "Of course not. Not anymore."
He leaned forward now, resting his elbows on the table. "When I was young, I did believe that. My mother taught me that god watched over us. Back then, it brought me comfort."
His expression darkened slightly. "But I've learned. Gods, demons… those are just titles. Empty ones. They don't mean what i thought they do."
He glanced at her, eyes calm but serious. "The title 'demon' is supposed to mean a being without mercy, one that craves destruction. But that's not true, is it? Ever since I came to this realm, I've seen demons are just like mortals but with inborn abilities. Some are cruel, yes. But others show kindness. Some protect. Some love."
He paused. "The same is true for gods. Not all of them are noble. Not all are just. They're not perfect beings . They're individuals, with their own flaws."
He leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. "But the being I speak of… it's something else. I believe it's there. I believe it's been with me—through every wound, every mistake."
There was a long silence before he spoke again. "There's a reason I'm still alive, Myra. A reason I haven't died. I think… I was meant to stay. Meant to do something. Maybe I can make this realm a little better. Even if it's just a small corner of it."
Myra looked at him carefully. "So you think you were chosen by this being? That you're special?"
Kairos lowered his voice. "I don't think I'm chosen. I think… I'm just one of it's pawns."
"it's pawns?" she repeated.
He nodded. "Yes. I believe in every country, every kingdom, every realm—there's someone trying to do what's right. Someone pushing back against the darkness. But people like that… they face obstacles. Heavy ones. They're beaten down, broken, tested again and again."
He motioned to her softly. "And even they need help sometimes."
Myra didn't say anything. She stared at him a moment longer, then turned and walked out.
Kairos didn't stop her. He just sat there, fingers still resting on the old table.
Some time passed. The light dimmed further. Eventually, he rose and stepped outside.
"The air is quite fresh today," he said quietly to himself.
He wandered to the tree at the edge of the house, its leaves whispering in the soft wind. A wooden bench sat beneath it, old but sturdy. He lowered himself onto it with a sigh.
Not long after, Mysa returned. She walked up the path carrying a wooden bucket filled with wrapped food items. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw him sitting outside.
"It's rare to see you out here," she said. There was a hint of surprise in her voice.
Kairos gave a small smile. "Just wanted some fresh air. You went to the market?"
"Yes," she replied, setting the bucket down. "Have you eaten?"
"I have," he said, turning his head to her. "It was delicious, as always." He paused looking away. "Thank you."
"You mean the food?" she asked, blinking in confusion. "Don't worry about that. It's my duty."
"It's not just the food," he said, his tone quieter now.
She looked at him. "Then what is it?"
Kairos stood up slowly, brushing off the dust on his pants. "For taking me in when I was a child. For putting up with me. I know I wasn't easy. Most people would've sent me away. But you didn't. You gave me a home. A family."
He looked directly at her. "For that, I thank you."
Mysa's expression softened. "Where is this all coming from, Kairos?" she asked gently.
He looked away for a second, voice full of quiet guilt. "I always bring you my burdens. My pain. My thoughts. I make it all about me. But I forgot—you have your own struggles. I haven't asked how you're doing.I've been selfish."
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. "Oh Kairos, my boy," she said softly. "I understand. Don't worry. I've never held it against you."
Behind the window, Myra watched everything.
She didn't say a word.
She walked quietly to her bed, sat down, and stared at the floor.
A long sigh escaped her lips.
"Oh Kairos," she murmured, almost like a whisper. "You are truly something else."