Ch.473Episode 17 – The Blood-Drinking Tree

As the sun set, pitch-black darkness descended. The moon rose, replacing the sun that had shyly hidden its face below the horizon of the vast desert touching the stars.

A sea of stars unfolds. The Milky Way stretches across the night sky while nomads gathered around a campfire busily prepare ingredients, as the smoke from cooking rice wafts a savory aroma.

Though this is an uninhabited zone teeming with monsters, it’s not monsters that rule this barren wasteland. The distant descendants who follow in the footsteps of ancestors who have traversed the red desert for thousands of years find open spaces free of monster traces, using the earth and sky as their resting place to soothe their weary bodies and souls.

The currents of magic and science have brought the fruits of civilization to the desolate desert. The name of this flower is broadcasting.

[Yes, hello, dear viewers. The voice that delivers hope. The time of Al-Saut (الصوت) has returned.]

A modest radio sits on a low, flat rock. A small door to the world sprouts a tiny bud.

[Night has fallen already. Did you finish your day well? It’s quite a warm night for once.

As always, I’d like to start with the weather. We’ll have cool winds for a few days, with some clouds and possibly rain. To borrow the expression of a viewer who sent us a message from the weather bureau, now is the perfect time! Perfect time for what? It’s just right to set out on a pilgrimage to welcome ‘Aramad’!

This year’s ‘Aramad’ period is 32 days in total! Enough time to comfortably visit the holy sites. So how about taking a rest today with a good book and a hot cup of tea? Even God wouldn’t want you to overexert yourself after working so hard.

However, you should avoid using the northern desert region no matter how urgent your business! Until our mother’s anger subsides, don’t even glance toward the northern desert!]

A young boy herding livestock came over upon hearing the sound. His eyes sparkled at the stories told by the sound box made of metal and wood.

When the boy, his eyes gleaming, suddenly reached for the rifle placed next to the radio, the old man hissed “Ssst-” as if to say, “How dare you touch grandfather’s belongings?”

The old herder stroked his dejected grandson’s head and moved the rifle away from the child. The rugged firearm was placed beside the radio, and the old man tilted his wrinkled hand to smoke a hookah (أرجيلة: a water pipe representative of Islamic culture, also called shisha).

As whitish smoke rose toward the sky, the wind gently carried the sound of the radio.

[We recently had to suddenly suspend our broadcast. Those of you who were listening to Al-Saut at that time must have been very perplexed.

Actually… as you know, some of our enthusiastic ‘listeners’ who monitor our broadcast don’t appreciate it very much. They dislike it more than you might imagine.

Due to some friction with them, we had to urgently stop broadcasting and evacuate.

Perhaps we’ve fallen out of favor for speaking too honestly? Haha. Of course, I firmly believe that’s just our imagination.]

The sound flowing from the radio rides on the wind.

The old herder, rubbing his ticklish ear with his finger, removed his lips from the mouthpiece.

[My colleagues and I are trying to deliver only hopeful news to our viewers… but lately, it pains me that we can only share sad news.]

The host’s words paused momentarily. It was a signal to prepare before hearing the news he was about to deliver.

Understanding the meaning, the herder called for the child. The old man placed a stick in the small, soft hand and entrusted the livestock to the boy.

The young herder led the dogs and goats toward the oasis. The beginning and extension of life. The lifeblood of animals living in Mother Earth’s embrace. The child, leading the livestock, gathered strength to cross the wasteland by holding the desert’s central sea in his hands.

Seeing this, the old herder’s eyes slowly closed. Only then did the host begin to deliver the news as if he had been waiting.

[Ten days ago, a mortar fired by government forces in the uninhabited zone fell on civilian homes, killing 30 people and injuring hundreds. Three days later, shells hit the market. Our dear spokesperson said that ‘civilian casualties are the result of a tragic accident, and social unrest is the result of criminals and anti-government groups inciting chaos.’]

[The government claims this place is a hotbed of violence and robbery where looters and rapists run rampant, but they’re ignoring the truth.

The warlords are no different. Under the pretext of rooting out collaborators, they drag civil servants’ families to the square to burn them, shoot them, and behead them—a cycle of violence that repeats itself. As for civilian vigilante groups… I’d rather not mention them. It’s often hard to distinguish whether they’re looters or not.

Looking at it this way, our dear government spokesperson seems to be right for once. Even a broken clock is right twice a day, isn’t it?]

[But today, I witnessed an astonishing scene on the street. I saw a man carrying a legless child on his back, running through a gateway where bullets were raining down. And I also witnessed the tragic scene of a sniper’s bullet hitting the man’s heart. Who was the criminal?]

[Was it the dying child? The man crossing the battlefield? Is the sniper hiding in the building the criminal? If we must hold the person who pulled the trigger responsible, shouldn’t I, who just sat safely in the broadcasting room and merely watched, be blamed as well?]

[The existence of hell is something even theologians wonder about. If hell exists, will I go there for turning away from a dying spark of life?]

[What about looters who harm others for food? The soldier who shot at rebels on orders? Conversely, what about the rebel who pointed a gun at a soldier? They say those who die in holy war against infidels go to heaven, but it’s truly ironic that brothers are shedding blood while denouncing each other as heretics.]

[This is a topic too difficult to discuss with my colleagues’ shallow knowledge. To discuss this topic, I’d like to send invitations to the clergy listening to this broadcast!…but I’m afraid our dear ‘enthusiastic listeners’ might come looking for us. Haha! Still, I can tell you one thing for certain: the child that man sacrificed his life to save is receiving proper treatment and protection at the World Union refugee camp!]

[‘O believers! Bow down in worship and do good. Then you shall prosper.’ These are the words emphasized by the prophet who preached the teachings of Mother Earth. Although we don’t know what religion you believe in, and our faiths may differ, I sincerely hope God’s protection is with all those dedicated to helping refugees there.]

At the news of the world delivered by the radio, the old man silently closed his eyes and sighed. The old herder, extending his fingers as dry as twigs, slung the rifle over his shoulder and began walking toward the oasis.

At that moment, the host’s voice suddenly changed.

With a slightly excited tone, different news began to come from the radio.

[…The next news I have is somewhat more hopeful. Seven monster colonies in the Shahid Plains have been successfully cleared!

Frequent guests on our broadcast? The ‘Hero’ and the ‘Alchemist’ have taken to the battlefield alongside the peacekeeping forces. Looking at the unpublished photos sent by a viewer working as a journalist… wow!

Eight years ago, my friend who served in a tank unit was deployed to the Shahid Plains clearing operation, and judging from the photos, it seems they’ve gone into the dense colony area! The sight of burning colonies against the backdrop of tank wreckage is spectacular! The article will be published tomorrow, so look forward to it.

According to rumors, the ‘Saint’ was spotted there! Unfortunately, photography wasn’t possible, so they couldn’t secure any pictures. It would have been quite a scoop if they could have captured it.

I’m honored to be the first to deliver this joyful news! Journalists must be feeling a bit sick with envy, haha! While everyone must be rejoicing at the news that the colonies threatening our borders have disappeared, it’s too early to celebrate. There’s more hopeful news!

The warlords are entering a ceasefire to ensure the safety and worship of pilgrims for ‘Aramad’! Though this isn’t the government’s official position yet.]

It was good news. But could it be called true peace?

It’s been weeks since the international community agreed to send troops for peace in the Mauritanian continent, but true peace still seems far away.

[Still, there’s hope in sight.]

The small box carrying the world’s voice speaks of hope.

[Though today isn’t better than yesterday, don’t lose hope! We still have tomorrow, don’t we? Painful moments will surely pass, and if you wait, peace will certainly come someday.]

The host concluded with a spirited voice. The closing remarks announcing the end of the broadcast flowed from the radio.

[Peace be upon all who are listening to this broadcast. I hope we can meet again alive. This has been Al-Saut, the voice that delivers hope.]

A faint voice comes riding on the breeze. The child smiled brightly upon seeing the old man.

The old herder placed his hand on the boy’s small head. As the child, holding the stick, looked up at the night sky with a transparent smile.

Between the stretching Milky Way, an unnamed star twinkled with a red light.

Episode 17 – The Tree That Drinks Blood

Pitch-black darkness without a speck of light, air vibrating against uneven walls, a staleness lingering in the mouth and a faded smell stimulating the nostrils.

The distinctive smell that greets you when opening an old book tickles the nose, and steep stairs lead dozens of meters underground. No matter how much I shine light downward, I can’t see the end of the stairs.

“Holy shit…”

An exclamation involuntarily escaped at the dizzying depth of darkness. I shouldn’t have looked.

It’s not only suffocatingly narrow but also incredibly steep.

The stairs surrounded by pitch-black darkness reminded me of the notoriously steep cliffs of the Five Sacred Mountains I’d almost forgotten. However, there was a major difference between China and this place—the presence or absence of safety measures.

Even China, which had bulldozed history and tradition at Tiananmen, hadn’t bulldozed the concept of safety, so they’d installed railings on the stairs traversing cliffs, but there was nothing like that here.

Meaning one slip and you’d tumble down into the abyss visible below.

When a breeze from above gently brushed my hair, my body moved about 1mm closer to the precipice. I, nearly sucked into the pitch-black darkness (or not), clung to the wall in startled panic.

“Damn, it’s so dark I can’t see shit… Is this the underworld or hell?”

Veronica, standing behind me, shot back sharply.

“If you have time for useless talk, would you mind going down the stairs, Major?”

She was coming down the stairs holding a torch, looking utterly exhausted.

With each step down, the torch rattled and shadows danced. While this might sound quite picturesque, Veronica’s expression was seriously unpleasant, making it impossible to discuss aesthetics.

“Oh, really-“

As Veronica trudged down the stairs, she suddenly shrieked.

“When the hell do these damn stairs end?!”

End?! End?! End?!…

The Saint’s voice of despair echoed throughout the vast space. Veronica plopped down in the middle of the stairs and began raising her voice as if she’d been wrongfully accused.

“We’ve been going down for minutes and there’s still no end in sight! Goddammit! Angels or whatever, I just want to—!”

“……”

Violent and crude curses that are difficult to express flowed freely. Whether she’d forgotten she was a Saint or not, she spewed out vulgar words and cursed expressions into the void for quite some time.

I sat blankly on the stairs, watching Veronica’s outburst. Normally I would have stopped her immediately, but this time I didn’t even have the strength for that.

Because I felt just as shitty about the current situation.

“Damn it…”

How did we end up like this? I sighed deeply and began to trace the situation step by step.

Going back three hours from now…

Starting from when we departed from the safe house.

*

The journey to find the angel began with a letter.

“Here, I have a map with locations marked. We need to go here.”

The knight decided our destination. Holding a map, he said we would visit the places marked on it.

The map most likely came from the High Priest. It had been enclosed with the High Priest’s letter. Moreover, the letter and map were delivered by the divine beast, Aquila.

Veronica questioned the knight’s statement about needing to go to the marked regions. More precisely, she asked for confirmation.

“Are your comrades there?”

“Precisely.”

“Are you certain?”

She was worried we might go there only to come back empty-handed.

But the knight strongly denied her doubts, even waving his hand.

“I understand what the owner of Altiora is concerned about. But now is not the time to worry about failure. What’s important is to quickly awaken my comrades.”

“If we really need to hurry, we shouldn’t waste time.”

If we go there and your comrade isn’t present, wouldn’t we just be wasting precious time? It was a reasonable question.

To this, the knight gave an answer after brief consideration, with a cautious attitude.

“There may be differences by region… but if we get close enough, I can confirm whether a comrade is there or not. The same goes for my comrades. If a comrade has awakened, they would sense my presence and come looking for me. They might even be heading here now, before me.”

“What does that mean?”

“Many of my comrades have excellent spiritual perception. One who has watched the cycle of all things and is more sensitive than anyone, one born with a gentle nature who is more thoughtful and wisest of all, yet humble.”

If any of them had awakened early, they would surely have recognized it. The knight added that in such a situation, his comrades would already be looking for him. Of course, he emphasized that this was just a hypothesis.

Anyway, we looked at the unfolded map and decided on our destination. Several regions not far from our current location were nominated, and we decided to explore three of them today.

Honestly, I didn’t think we could visit three regions in one day. But contrary to my skeptical reaction, Veronica took a positive attitude, saying it wasn’t a bad plan.

“We’re going to three places? Is that even possible?”

“Why not? Didn’t you see earlier? A person falling from the sky.”

She was referring to Akande.

Indeed, the sight of a hole suddenly appearing in the clear sky and a person popping out was beyond imagination.

Most teleportation magic, unless it’s military-grade used for infiltration, tends to be flashy with light and sound, but the knight moved freely through space without making a sound. And with a power I’d never seen before, not even magic.

“It’s definitely not divine power, right?”

“Yes. I’ve never seen such divine power in all my time with the church. Assuming he’s an angel, I think it might be some kind of authority…”

Veronica speculated it was something different from magic or divine power (probably in a religious sense), but I kept feeling like I’d seen the power the knight wielded somewhere before.

For instance, like Akande’s tattoos, which perfectly regenerated his body even after taking Camilla’s flames head-on in Necropolis.

Come to think of it, his power was also identified as neither magic nor divine power. I remembered this clearly because I had personally checked the documents passed on from the Inquisition that had examined Akande.

Speaking of Akande, he had regained consciousness just before. After staring blankly at the knight in plate armor, he suddenly became surprised, then jumped up and ran to the knight, starting to babble something.

Although I couldn’t understand what he was saying due to the language barrier…

Judging from his expressions and tone—non-verbal cues—Akande seemed quite shocked.

His eyes widened in surprise, darting around as he stammered, unable to string words together, like a teenage fangirl meeting her idol—except that’s bullshit. With his bear-sized build behaving like that, it was just creepy.

“It’s good that he’s awake.”

“Let’s depart now.”

Not using magic on an unconscious person is the first rule applied to all types of magic, regardless of field. Even the knight himself had opposed teleporting the unconscious Akande, saying it was too dangerous. So only after he regained consciousness could we finally leave the safe house.

The first location was a barn in an unnamed countryside.

After passing through a ring glowing with various colors, the knight stared intently at the barn, looked around widely, then struck the padlock with his sword. At that moment, Veronica raised her voice slightly in protest.

“What are you doing! If we get caught—”

But when the greatsword hit the padlock, no sound was produced.

Clearly the padlock was shattered and rolling on the ground, but there was no sound of destruction, not even the impact sound you’d expect when it fell.

While we stared with wide eyes, the knight entered the interior and began feeling the ground. After pushing aside some hay and tapping the dirt floor a couple of times, he looked around the barn interior, then abruptly stood up and came outside.

“Not here.”

“…We have eyes too, you know?”

We came because he said his comrade was sleeping here, but there was only a barn.

Veronica glared at the knight, frowning at the stench of manure wafting from somewhere inside or outside the barn. But the knight paid no attention and hurriedly quickened his pace.

“We must move to the next location.”

The second location was in the middle of a ravine.

While Akande, who had been dragged along without explanation, and the rest of us were busy trying to figure out our location, looking around, the knight strode down to the bottom of the ravine. As he jumped without hesitation from a rock with a considerable drop, a loud noise and heavy metallic sound spread throughout the ravine.

As startled animals tumbled and rolled away in escape, the knight slowly walked across the cracked, barren land parched by continued drought. Then, as if he had found something, he suddenly knelt on one knee and began stroking and tapping the dirt floor. It was similar to what he had done in the barn earlier.

I judged that the knight was searching for something. Although I hadn’t received an explanation, I thought it must have some meaning.

But Veronica seemed annoyed. From his impulsive actions without warning to his attitude of not explaining properly. Perhaps she was just irritated from crawling between rocks in the middle of the night, but one thing was clear: the Saint was angry with the knight.

“Really, this is getting ridiculous… Hey! If you’re looking for something, say you’re looking! If you can’t find it, just say you can’t find it. You said you were looking for a comrade, but what is this? First a barn, now a ravine? What’s next, the ocean?”

When the Saint pointed and grumbled, the knight suddenly stood up.

For a moment, thinking he was being attacked, Veronica quickly hid. Behind me, that is.

“……”

“……”

“…What are you doing?”

Veronica, who had grabbed my arms, smiled awkwardly. Yeah, she had not only hidden behind me but was pushing me forward.

That, what was it…

“…Meat shield?”

Oh. Meat shield. Couldn’t think of the word.

Anyway, how dare she use me as a shield?

“You better prepare yourself!”

“Hyaaagagak-!!”

Just as I was about to twist the Saint’s head tucked under my arm and grind my knuckles against her temple, the knight, who had somehow approached nearby, began leading us to the third location.

A ring composed of various indescribable lights enveloped our bodies, and when we opened our eyes, a desert stretched before us.

In the confusion, the strength in my arm holding her head loosened, and Veronica escaped like a cockroach hiding in furniture crevices to avoid its owner. I clenched and unclenched my fist with a disappointed expression.

Having arrived at the third destination, the knight remained silent.

As he had done in the barn and ravine, the knight walked silently across the sand, then stopped somewhere and repeated the same actions. What could this possibly mean? Just as I was about to ask out of curiosity…

“Confirmation.”

Finally, the knight spoke.

“Pardon?”

“The answer to what you asked earlier. What I am doing. I am confirming.”

“So instead of finding your comrade, you’ve been confirming strange things. Are you looking for real estate?”

Veronica, who had been rubbing her temple, responded sarcastically to his answer. But she was just as curious.

“So, have you finished confirming?”

“Yes.”

The knight said he hadn’t sensed any trace of his comrades at the barn or ravine.

I asked if there was a comrade here. As if concentrating, the knight briefly touched the ground in silence, then…

“…I sense it. A familiar presence.”

The answer was yes.

When the long-awaited positive response came, our faces brightened. Veronica beamed with delight.

“Now we just need to find your comrade! Let’s finish quickly and go rest!”

“……”

“…But where is your comrade?”

The Saint looked around the desert. No matter where we looked, there was nothing but sand.

Akande, still clueless about the situation, and me, on guard around the perimeter. After scanning everyone, Veronica turned her gaze to the knight.

A handle appeared as if floating in the air. As the gauntlet grasped the handle and pulled, a greatsword gradually revealed itself.

The knight thrust the greatsword deep between his feet. The blade sank more than halfway into the sand.

“Underground.”

Ssss… The sound of sand grains moving brushes my ear. The desert sand begins to writhe like a living creature.

Sensing something wrong, everyone hurriedly tried to move away, but at that moment the ground collapsed and swallowed our feet.

“Uh, uh…?”

“What the hell is this?!”

“Bau’ gur-ah!”

And so we were sucked into the sand. More precisely, we tumbled down.

Rolling down a sloped incline, we suddenly stopped as if caught on something.

“Ughk…”

Despite rolling quite a distance, it didn’t hurt as much as I expected. Probably due to the soft sand covering the floor.

When I finally came to my senses, my first thought was ‘there’s no light.’ While using my sense of touch to find a light, a familiar metallic sound—clank!—came from in front of me.

-Whoosh!

Light appeared.

“Are you alright?”

The knight looked at us rolling on the floor and asked if we were okay.

Setting aside the fact that I hadn’t even heard him coming down, I wondered where he got that torch from.

The knight, illuminating the darkness with the torch, extended his empty hand. I spat out the sand filling my mouth and grabbed the gauntlet.

“…Where exactly are we?”

I stared at the knight with a puzzled expression. Veronica, who had barely maintained her sanity, also looked at the knight with a serious expression.

The knight raised the torch.

High, very high.

As our vision gradually adapted to the darkness, and with the help of the torch, it wasn’t difficult to distinguish objects.

In the pitch-black darkness, giant statues stand in a row.

Statues that appear to depict monsters from ancient mythology, mixing animals and humans. In the desolate space, statues that seemed to be at least tens of meters tall stood towering.

The statues were so tall and massive that even the torchlight couldn’t fully reach them. Below the statues with their overwhelming presence, darkness of unfathomable depth spread out.

The knight illuminated the surroundings with the torch and answered briefly.

“This is where my comrade sleeps.”

And he added.

“It’s also where demons are sealed.”

*

The aftermath brought by the knight’s shocking confession was truly remarkable.

“No, has this man gone mad? What? Demons?! Are you playing with me! What the hell kind of name is ‘demon’! Why are you only telling us this important information now—”

Veronica began hurling every curse imaginable after hearing the word “demon.”

How can she use such vulgar and crude expressions? In fact, perhaps the reason the Vatican hasn’t removed this troublemaker from the position of Saint until now is because they know just how far she can go once freed from the constraints of being a clergy.

Veronica’s verbal skills were too rough to fully express in words.

I tried my best to calm Veronica as she threw a tantrum.

“Veronica… why are you so angry…”

While trying to restrain the Saint who was berating the knight, a thought suddenly occurred to me. If the knight really is an angel, wouldn’t this be blasphemy too? A saint hurling vulgar curses at an angel. Did the omnipotent God foresee this moment as well?

Anyway.

Filtering out Veronica’s agitated and unrefined raw expressions, her argument boiled down to this:

“You said it’s where angels sleep! Then there should only be angels, why are there demons too! Are they neighbors?! Subletters?!”

And from the chaotic scene filled with verbal and non-verbal violence, the gist of the knight’s answer was this:

“My comrades are at locations where demons are sealed to prevent them from coming out into the world again. They are a kind of guard, in a sense.”

“Why are demons here, you ask? Because we sealed them here. It’s advisable to imprison them on the spot when you discover fleeing ones. Don’t thieves get arrested on the spot when discovered?”

In conclusion, he and his comrades (presumably angels) had half-beaten demons to death, sealed them, and then literally laid down their bedding right on top of them.

The knight said that a very long time ago, he and his comrades captured demons. After tracking traces of demons around the world, when they finally confronted a demon, they would cut off its head and limbs and seal it right there. The problem arose when someone tampered with the seal or when a particularly determined demon managed to break the seal and crawl out.

It was for such days that he and his comrades fell asleep at or near the places where demons were sealed, ready to cut off the demon’s head again. Hoping that demons would never crawl back into the world.

“…So after killing your opponent, you laid your bedding on top of the corpse?”

“You understand perfectly.”

“……”

“…Why are you looking at me like that?”

And this place was ‘that’ location where angels had laid their bedding. I tried to imagine the image of an angel.

On top of a beheaded demon corpse… lying sprawled on the demon they had killed… an angel sleeping soundly. No matter how I thought about it, this description was closer to Satan than an angel.

For reference, there were indeed no comrades (angels) in the barn or ravine.

To explain more specifically…

“Ah, there are only demons there. They are very well sealed.”

The knight proudly boasted that demons were sleeping under the barn and ravine floors, and the seals were perfectly maintained.

Why the fuck would you seal demons near residential areas, you bastards.

…When I asked this more politely, the knight answered:

“That area was an uninhabited desert. A wasteland where not a single blade of grass grew.”

“……”

“…At least until 800 years ago.”

This is maddening. It’s like a livestock farm secretly burying waste in an uninhabited mountain, only to have an apartment complex suddenly built nearby one day.

The difference is that the garbage buried in the mountain is inanimate material, while what’s buried in the Mauritanian continent are creatures that spell doom if they breathe—whether for humans living nearby or for us.

The knight assured us that this was absolutely not an intended result, and since he confirmed the seals were intact, everything was fine.

“Though unintended, it’s fortunate that the seals are safely maintained. And the demon sealed under the barn is a weak one, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“……”

“…You really can rest assured.”

What’s there to be assured about?

At this point, I was beginning to doubt whether this guy was really an angel. No, even if he is an angel, he absolutely shouldn’t be. If such a senile old man is an angel, the world will soon be ruled by demons.

Veronica seemed to have similar thoughts, as she was gradually looking at the knight with suspicious eyes.

“…Is he really an angel? I don’t think so.”

“What are you saying? You’re a clergy. Go buy some candy. I think the old man’s blood sugar is low.”

“Do you think his teeth are okay?”

“Then get him some jelly. The kind with red ginseng.”

Anyway, having come this far, what choice did we have? We reluctantly decided to trust and follow the knight.

We had brought our equipment just in case, and we’d taken out insurance too… Consoling ourselves that surely nothing bad would happen with a Saint and an angel present, we moved forward.

…Ah, right.

“But when you first showed us the map, didn’t you clearly say that ‘the positions where your comrades sleep’ were marked?”

I asked with a questioning voice. The knight walking ahead gave a nonchalant reply.

“No. I only said ‘a map with locations marked.’ I didn’t mention anything else.”

“…I remember asking if your comrades were there. What was that about?”

This time Veronica asked the question. Similarly, the knight answered indifferently.

“My only response then was ‘Precisely.'”

“No. You should have said from the beginning that these were places where demons were sealed!”

Squeak- As the Saint shouted, an echo containing all the world’s injustice spread throughout the underground.

And the knight opened his mouth.

Again, indifferently.

“If I had told the truth, I didn’t think you would follow. I’m sorry.”

Don’t you dare speak, you bastard.

My face flashed across the stone slab covered in pale dust as the light flickered. It was a sad expression resembling a frog I’d seen somewhere.

Angel or whatever, I just want to go home.