Truthfully, if Gabriel felt any ill-will towards Mikhail for ditching his unconscious body on Basil Street and making off with his halo and System, he wouldn’t have accepted the gig to act as Mikhail’s Christmas Ghost. In fact, because the ex-angel possessed an easy-going disposition, he had actually been the one to request Mikhail’s case from his new ghostly employer. After spending close to three decades watching over Mikhail, it was unsurprising that Gabriel had developed a fondness for the morally-bankrupt twerp. 

He had paid Mikhail a visit during the night, then, with the intention of warning him. If Mikhail failed to purchase the Guardian Angel System before the 25-day trial expired on Christmas day, he would indeed be turned into a pine needle.

The only problem was, unbeknownst to him, Gabriel hadn’t come alone. 

A certain ill-intentioned dancing rodent had tagged along in the folds of his robes in secret. 

Upon first arriving in Mikhail’s bedroom, the mouse had leapt to the floor and hidden itself in a crumpled-up duffle bag in a corner of the room. It waited patiently for their dream shenanigans to come to an end. 

By the time the sun was rising, the distant flap-flap-flapping of large, feathered wings indicated that Gabriel had left. The mouse rubbed its paws together. From a first position plié, it rose up into a relevé with arms raised and darted out of the shadows across the floor towards Mikhail’s bed. 

Now was the perfect time to strike. 

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As one might guess by now, this mouse was far from ordinary. 

In fact, it was a willful ghost—that is, a human soul that had failed to enter the cycle of reincarnation—that had possessed the body of a mouse by sheer accident. This possession incident had happened so long ago that the willful ghost could no longer remember its old human life, instead mixing up its own resentment with the mouse’s memories and dreams. 

Hence, it was a little unstable. 

The mouse, reaching Mikhail’s bedside, lifted its whiskered nose and shouted up: 

“Mikhail Li, I, Myomor, the Great Mouse Usurper, formally challenge you to a duel. If you lose, you must forfeit ownership of the heirloom halo—ack!”

There came a yawn and the sound of the bed creaking. In the middle of its speech, the mouse had to dodge to the left as a giant foot came crashing down, nearly crushing it to a pancake. 

“Mikhail Li, are you listening—augh!”

Seconds later, the mouse had to dodge to the right as a second giant foot came crashing down beside the first foot.  

The mouse, watching Mikhail climb out of bed, putting pants on without even sparing it a passing glance, immediately felt its resentment shooting through the roof. It ground its front incisors together, then made a series of hand seals—or paw seals, we should say. In a matter of seconds, a blossom of black flames sprouted under its feet, whirling with untamed fury. 

Oh yes, this mouse was far from ordinary. 

It was also far from powerless. 

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Mikhail was just humming to himself and putting his left leg into his sweatpants when a hurricane of fiery, sulfurous air kicked up in his room out of nowhere, ripping the blinds off the window and catching his bedsheets aflame. This hurricane, which sounded and smelled like a demonic fart, was so powerful, it launched Mikhail face-first into his closet door with a crash. 

Mikhail’s first thought, after staggering to his feet, was to clutch his stomach and think, System, that wasn’t me, right? I don’t think I ate anything weird last night…

【GOOD MORNING, HOST (Father Motherfucking Christmas) - SCANNING - ALL BODILY FUNCTIONS NORMAL】

He shrugged. Just then, something cold and sharp and distinctly sword-like pricked the back of his neck. 

A gravelly voice said, “Mikhail Li, if you value your life… then fight me.”

Slowly, Mikhail turned around. 

Standing in his room, holding a rapier to his throat, was a man… no, a mouse. 

A mouse-man?

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Mikhail had to hold back a guffaw. The mouse-man threatening him had the body of an adult human male and was dressed smartly. Its dark-blue jacket decorated with gold braided rope was reminiscent of a horse-riding cavalryman from the 19th century. Looking at it from the neck down, one might start salivating at those toned arms and legs, which were definitely evidence of some kind of intense daily workout regimen. 

But as for the head, it was just a normal mouse, with beady red eyes and a pink twitching nose covered in whiskers. 

Mikhail’s eyes went down: H-h-hot…

Mikhail’s eyes went up: C-c-cute…

Wait, wasn’t this a real-life sword pointed at his throat?!

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The mouse-man chuckled darkly, cocking its head. “But perhaps it’s not enough to threaten your life. After all, you have already died once. That, Mikhail Li, was my doing.”

Mikhail let out an audible gasp. “You… you killed me?”

“Surprised, are we?” The mouse-man’s little pink nose twitched. “Indeed, it was I who took control of your vehicle’s musical apparatus, changing the output to one objectively displeasing, which in turn led to your demise. My plan from the beginning was to lure that guardian angel to Earth. For it is not your measly life I am after, but the all-powerful heirloom halo—OUGH!”

Having been punched squarely in the face, the mouse-man fell back. Its rapier clattered to the floor. 

There came a loud WHOOOSH.

A hurricane of glowing, heavenly light kicked up in the room out of nowhere, sending thin cracks spider-webbing across the window and catching the bedsheets aflame once more.

Cradling its swollen eye, the mouse-man squinted up. 

Central to the room, Mikhail was being encircled by an aura of churning energy. His eyes were tightly shut; every muscle in his face was tensed up. His halo had come out, but rather than a gold ring, it had transformed into a disk of shifting sigils composed entirely of blinding light. His 2D chibi wings had unfurled into a pair of sleek, pearl-white swallow wings, and his clothes were dissolving into flowing silk robes that billowed out, almost swallowing the room entirely.

When he opened his glowing amber eyes, the mouse-man let out a terrified squeak. 

A robotic voice entered the air:

【GUARDIAN ANGEL SYSTEM LVL: ⬆200 - ENTERING CLOSE COMBAT MODE - EQUIPPING DEFAULT STAT BOOSTS - STRENGTH: ⬆2000 - DEFENSE: ⬆2000 - ACCURACY: ⬆400 - EQUIPPING DEFAULT WEAPON: SUPERNAL CAESTUSES】

“You fuck-face bitch! You killed me! I’ll fucking kill you back!” Mikhail screamed. 

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One flying lariat later.

“Mikhail Li, I was a fool to have challenged you! Have mercy!” Myomor cried. After being brutally kicked around the room like a rubber dodgeball and put into a choke-hold, the mouse-man had shrunk back into its tiny mouse form. It was now on its back, writhing under Mikhail’s foot while fat tears streamed out of its beady red eyes. “No longer in this lifetime will I seek to divest you of the heirloom halo! You have my word as Great Mouse Usurper!”

The revenge-bent Mikhail wasn’t listening. The only thing he could think about was slam-dunking this scheming rat into a blender. 

“You ruined my whole life!” Mikhail shouted, pressing his foot down harder on the mouse. His glowing amber eyes were brimming with angry tears. “If it weren’t for you killing me, I wouldn’t have needed this halo in the first place! I wouldn’t be sweating my ass off trying not to get deleted—and now turned into a pine needle! I wouldn’t be playing this bullshit Christmas bingo game! And I definitely wouldn’t be running around like a headless chicken working as an underpaid PA for some third-rate actor scum! 

“Instead, I would be… I would…”

The words died on Mikhail’s tongue. 

He closed his eyes, letting his tears spill. He imagined his life uninterrupted—partying, dancing, spending money like dirt—surrounded by strangers faceless and forgettable—everything passing by in the blink of an eye until all that was left was an old man on his deathbed, utterly alone. 

Whether he died early at 28 or at the ripe age of 100, the result was destined to be the same. 

A frivolous, meaningless existence. 

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With a shattering sound, the halo of glowing sigils above Mikhail’s head disappeared, along with his robes and feathered wings. The heavenly light in the room died down. 

Mikhail lifted his foot off the mouse, eliciting a gasp for air. 

“Get out of here. If I see your ugly face again, I’m going to throw you in a pet store,” Mikhail said quietly, turning to bury his face in his sleeve. 

“Mikhail Li,” Myomor coughed, rubbing its throat. It stood up on its hind legs, did a pirouette, and then saluted him. “Your benevolence is unmatched under the Nine Heavens. I will return the favor someday and, furthermore, shall erect a shrine in Mousetown in honor of your—”

“GET OUTTTTTTTT!” 

With that, the defeated mouse tucked tail and fled under the bedroom door. 

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Mikhail cried for a total of ten minutes. When he was finished, he blew his nose and took a deep breath. 

The last time he cried this hard was four years ago when he broke his arm roller-skating. But that had been a completely different experience. Now, total calm had washed over his body like dripping honey.

No wonder people cry themselves to sleep. It feels even better than mast—

【CUSTOM REMINDER TO DELIVER (large black coffee, no room—hold on, does that mean drip or Americano, fuck, fuck, fuck) TO PAIRED HUMAN (Shen Dan) BY 6:30】

“Got it.”

Mikhail took his time getting dressed. When he was finished, he stepped out of his completely destroyed bedroom and carefully shut the door behind him. He tiptoed over to Shen Dan’s room and pressed his ear to the closed door. 

He could just barely make out the sound of Shen Dan’s gentle snoring. 

Given that the man hadn’t woken up during the earth-shaking Mikhail v. Mouse-man battle, it was clear he slept like a rock. Mikhail had to chuckle. He put his hands into his pockets and shuffled into the kitchen to do the morning dishes. 

But to his surprise, there was nothing to be done. 

Come to think of it, lately, more and more, Shen Dan had been helping Mikhail with the housework. It was at this point split 50-50. This morning, there were only two used coffee mugs sitting in the sink. The pink one with a chip in it was Mikhail’s, and the pristine blue one was Shen Dan’s. 

Mikhail felt a fuzzy feeling in his heart, sweet and bitter at the same time, spreading and warming him to his fingertips and down to his toes. 

He nudged the pink mug over to the blue one until the two were practically kissing. He couldn’t help but blush. 

If I hadn’t died that day…

If all this had never happened… 

I also wouldn’t have met Shen Dan again.