It was a long night, and I was working hard at my job in the museum. It was not Louvre, of course, nor it was the National Gallery, the British Museum, or any other museum where the name would create a glimmer of familiarity on a passerby. Or even an expert. It wasn't even one that would earn its place in the city guides, hoping to scam a few dollars from any tourist that might have lost their way into the middle of nowhere.

No, the nameless museum I was working for was little more than a glorified storage room for the shitty university I was also a student of, trying to work my way into an engineering degree. Every single item in the storage room was rejected by several other institutions due to their sheer unremarkability.

None of the items were deemed important or significant by any shape or form. The current batch I had been assessing, in particular, came from the basement of some kind of tomb in the middle of nowhere in Europe, only significant due to their smell, somehow moldy and dusty at the same time.

At least, I assumed so, until I pulled a brass orb from one of the boxes, only to feel the most spectacular jolt of the pain of my life. Nothing even came close, not even the time I shattered my leg in five places when I was nine, the car I was in had been blindsided aggressively.

Only to feel the great jolt of pain radiating into my body. I tried to open my fingers, but it proved to be impossible, my fingers refusing to follow my orders.

Or, more accurately, they decided to follow the opposite of my order, and started to close on, worrying me that somehow, I would end up in broken fingers — certainly not something I could afford by an orphan in America with absolutely no social security net, trying to put myself through the college.

My fingers didn't break despite their worrying movement trend, but the significance of my continued health was lost when my fingers started sinking into the brass orb. Or more accurately, what had been a brass orb, but rapidly turning into some kind of metallic liquid, seeping into my skin.

I expected the pain to worsen, maybe to a terminal level, but instead, a chill covered my body, as something icy seeped under my body, weird and uncomfortable. I lay on the floor, shivering helplessly.

I didn't know for how long I trembled, but I would have collapsed on the floor if it wasn't for a distinctive voice. "You have been chosen for a great destiny, mortal," said a voice. It was hard to describe it, as the mixture of a rock concert and a sexy chat-up line.

I opened my eyes, only to see a floating angel in front of me.

Or more accurately, a weird, horny approximation of an angel, decked in white leather that left a lot of cleavage, floating in front of me, like the live-action movie version of one of the hentai games, the kind that would have been played by one of the young bimbo blonde models at the peak of their career.

"I beg your pardon?" I managed to stammer despite the uncomfortable sensation. Admittedly, it wasn't the best thing to say after being confronted by the late-night cable adult version of the divine, but in my defense, I was already exhausted before the weird torture I had just suffered.

The angel looked down on me, her beautiful face melting into a soft expression. "I said that you have been chosen to rise to the ranks of the divine, to be a bulwark against the darkness," she explained, though, as she spoke, her voice slowly lost its confusing ethereal quality. Don't get me wrong, it was still not a sound a human could make without spending a lot of money for the special effects budget.

"Okay," I murmured, unable to stem my confusion — and if I had to be honest, the arousal I was feeling was hardly making the things any easier, which was very hard to stop when faced the incredible mixture of a sexy dominatrix and an innocent beauty, even if the said beauty had actual wings.

Like white, fluffy wings, the most ridiculous depiction of an angel, which was ridiculous even for a nonbeliever — theoretically agnostic, but practically atheist — like me.

"Let's go!" said the angel with a cheerful voice before she prepared to turn, and only then, I noticed her wings passing through the walls like they weren't there.

"Hey, wait a minute, are you a hallucination?" I said suddenly. "Why can your wings pass through the walls?"

"N-no," she said, her blue eyes suddenly avoiding mine.

"Really?" I said, unable to prevent a suspicious frown from appearing on my face.

"No," she repeated, but once again, her tone was less convincing than a child interrogated about missing cookies despite the impressive echo of her tone.

"But…" I said silently. Spending a significant part of my life trying to survive by my wits, I had developed a decent sense against lies of omission, and the mysterious erotic angel that had been appeared in front of me was triggering all of them successfully.

"I-I'm a guide assigned to help your divine journey," she murmured. "A messenger."

"And…" I continued, even as I stood up. The weird sensation that covered my skin slowly disappeared, letting me take back control of my body. I stood up, putting my eye line closer to the mysterious figure in front of me.

"And my visage is determined at the moment of bonding, based on the understanding and the perception of the Divine Candidate," she explained. I could have pushed her more, but she seemed to be tense already.

I nodded, noting her relaxation. The rational thing was to say that she was a hallucination, of course, but both the sensation of the pain, and the following chilly sensation were too weird, almost ethereal.

If she was a hallucination, there was no benefit of pushing her any case, and if she wasn't a hallucination, there was no point in antagonizing her. Either way, I decided not to push her even more. Instead, I stayed on the aspect of what she already mentioned. "So, your looks are based on my mind. Can you read my mind?"

"It's not one of my abilities," she said. "It's an automatic response of the Divine System, based on a reading of your subconsciousness. I'm just a Divine Guide, tasked to help your transition."

Well, that answered it, I thought ironically. As a horny bastard, and as a nonbeliever, I wasn't exactly surprised that my subconsciousness had come up with such a wet-dream scenario. If one was to be confronted to be supernatural, at least it might also function as an eye candy, which, ironically, was the case whether she was real or just a hallucination.

And she was definitely eye candy, a busty, sexy blonde clad in bleached leather, her blonde hair sprawling beautifully like she had just spent hours in a hairdresser, natural yet perfect at the same time.

"Would you mind explaining what's the Divine System, then?"

"Of course," she answered, her enthusiasm immediately drowning her earlier hesitation. It seemed that, unlike the questions about her nature, she was more than happy talking about this so-called Divine System. "It is-" she started, only for me to silence her with a gesture.

"I feel the explanation is going to take a long time," I said, which earned a nod in response. A nod that made her illusionary assets shake most emphatically, enough to make me bite my lips. "So, it's best if I return to my room before we start."

"It would be nice to catch the sight of the Earth once again," she said enthusiastically.

"Of course," I said as I turned my back, quickly putting the boxes in place and turning off the computer I was using to enter the stock. However, my attention was in the curious way of her phrasing, showing enthusiasm about seeing the Earth again.

Which implied that she was not from here, yet she had been here before.

How curious…