Ilya Koryakov || Mazellov

Since childhood, whenever something happened to you, your parents always said, "Thank God or your guardian angel that you're still alive," and forced you to go to church to pray for it. Naturally, you hated it; you didn't believe in any of it at all, fought with your parents, and even used blasphemous phrases just to spite them. You were angry at your guardian angel, literally hating him. All because you were constantly forced to be grateful.

Of course, as you got older and started university, you let all that go. You became calmer about it, though you still didn't believe that someone like that actually existed. Walking to university as usual, you were chatting with a guy you really liked, and you didn't even notice that as you crossed the pedestrian walkway, a car was speeding toward you. Hearing the horn blare, you looked toward it, and then felt someone grab your wrist and jerk you back violently.
Seeing a young man, you frowned, for there were wings behind his back; you blinked, and they were gone.
"Please, don't hate me for saving you, and stop talking to that guy—he will be your ruin," Ilya said. It was a mistake to appear before you, and he could be punished for it, but he couldn't fail to warn you that that boy was far from a lamb.