Gabriel, who had just been imagining the future formations of the Faerie Knights, blinked slowly. His awareness seemed to fully return to the present.
"…Hm?"
He tilted his head slightly, puzzled, but chose not to dwell on it.
Before his thoughts could drift elsewhere, his hand moved beneath his cloak.
A contract scroll appeared between his fingers.
Gabriel extended it toward Sith.
"Make a contract with me," he said calmly.
"Become my Servant. If you agree, our fates will be bound together."
The air grew quieter.
Sith stared at the scroll for several seconds without touching it.
"The benefits," Gabriel continued evenly,
"If you die, I can revive you. Wounds can be transferred. Stamina or Energy can be shared."
A brief pause.
"The drawback… our existences will be linked. If the Master dies, the Servant vanishes as well."
Sith lowered her foot from its threatening position and stepped back half a pace. She finally took the scroll.
Her eyes scanned the surface of the parchment calmly.
Then—a smile appeared. Thin. Mischievous.
Without a single word, Sith tore the contract straight down the middle.
It was obvious she had been expecting a reaction. Panic. Anger. Just the slightest crack in Gabriel's composure would have been enough—she would have used it as justification for her next action: stepping on him for his insolence.
That way, in her mind, her mother would surely praise her.
But that expectation collapsed.
Because tearing the Contract Scroll… was, in fact, one of the methods of agreement.
A pale blue light flared briefly—circling Sith's neck like a thin ribbon of radiance—before solidifying into a choker and then fading without a trace.
Sith froze.
Not in fear.
In confusion.
"…What was that just—"
On the other side, Gabriel was already standing casually, dusting off his trousers as if he had merely stumbled over a small stone, not bound a Faerie Knight through an existential contract.
"Destroying the Contract Scroll is also a method of activation," he said calmly. "Sorry. I forgot to mention that."
Silence.
For the first time since being summoned, Baobhan Sith's expression was truly blank… before it slowly cracked.
She felt toyed with.
And that ranked among the things she hated most in the world.
Her malicious aura flared for a brief moment—enough to make the surrounding air feel sharp against the skin.
She had already imagined slamming Gabriel to the ground and stepping on him repeatedly with her heels.
But before that intent could take form, Morgan's hand touched her shoulder.
A light touch.
Sith immediately went still.
Like a wild beast suddenly remembering who held the leash.
Her anger did not disappear… it was merely postponed.
Because there was something far more important than punishing that insolent human.
"Mother…" her voice softened, in stark contrast to the aura from moments before.
Meanwhile, Gabriel had already turned around, as if unaware of how thin the line had just been between him and social death.
"Fay, I'm going to rest for a bit," he said casually. "As for explaining this place to Sith, I'll leave that to you."
Without waiting for a reply, he walked away from the ritual circle.
Baobhan Sith watched him leave with narrowed eyes.
"…Mother," she murmured softly, "I'm really allowed to torment him later, right?"
Her tone was sweet.
Far too sweet.
***
On the other side, inside the quiet classroom of Class 2-B, the surreal sky's light streamed through the windows, reflecting softly across the floor.
Kurumi sat leaning against the wall.
Her dark navy sailor uniform skirt spread slightly around her.
Resting comfortably on her lap was the head of Sawa Yamauchi, her long brown hair tied in a low braid that draped over the side of Kurumi's thigh.
Kurumi gazed at her best friend's face.
A faint blush colored her cheeks.
"S-Sawa-san…" her voice was hesitant, almost like a whisper caught in her throat. "Is my punishment over…?"
"Not yet," Sawa replied casually, her eyes still closed, a small smile on her lips. "Kurumi-san still has to serve as my pillow."
Kurumi gently bit her lower lip.
"…How cruel…" she murmured, yet her hands unconsciously continued to support Sawa's head to keep her comfortable.
Several moments passed in warm silence.
Then Sawa slowly opened her eyes. She looked at Kurumi from a distance far too close—before finally sitting up.
"Alright," she said lightly. "I think I'm satisfied now."
She smiled—gently, yet there was something bittersweet beneath it.
"After all… I can't steal Kurumi-san away when she already belongs to someone else."
Kurumi's face instantly flushed red all the way to her ears.
"S-Sawa-san! Stop teasing me!"
Her protest came quickly, almost in a panic—which only made Sawa's smile deepen.
Kurumi took a long breath, trying to steady her heartbeat that still hadn't fully calmed after all the teasing.
"But…" her voice softened, this time truly filled with concern. "Sawa-san… your body is really alright?"
Sawa fell silent. She closed her eyes, placing a palm against her own chest, as if trying to sense the flow of something unseen.
"Yes…" she answered quietly. "I don't feel any strange signs from your Inverse power. It's as if that power has truly settled down. Even 'the other me' isn't making any noise."
Normally, after the use of the Scorpio Bullet, Sawa could always hear the other personality within her—a lingering echo that was never truly silent.
But this time, everything was quiet.
And that had happened after the conflict an hour ago.
The brief battle against Gabriel. And the one who emerged victorious… was him.
Sawa still remembered the touch to her forehead at the end of that fight—a fleeting gesture that seemed trivial, yet left behind something she couldn't explain.
After that, she had been restrained, forced to sit together with Kurumi, and—more annoyingly—made by Gabriel to reconcile.
At first, her heart had still been full of hatred. Rigid. Unwilling to yield.
But the long conversation… gradually wore it down. Until she realized—her feelings toward Kurumi were not entirely hatred.
Sawa opened her eyes and looked at Kurumi.
Her gaze was warm—an expression she rarely ever showed.
"The abilities of the man you chose are remarkable," she continued softly. "It almost makes me jealous."
Kurumi's brows immediately furrowed.
Teasing again.
"And…" Sawa added, her gaze shifting to the window where Rinkai's spectrum-filled sky stretched out like a fractured painting, "everything we've gone through… feels like a nightmare."
Suddenly, her form trembled.
For an instant, she was Sawa Yamauchi.
The next, her silhouette shifted into Kurumi clad in white—an Astral Dress styled like a commander's uniform, cold and silent.
"Life…" she murmured softly, her voice lower, more distant. "It's like a joke. Truly ridiculous."
Seeing the distortion, Kurumi unconsciously reached out. Her fingers touched Sawa's cheek—gentle, careful, as if touching something that might shatter.
"Sawa-san…"
The distortion stopped.
The form that remained was White Kurumi.
Then—a soft smile appeared on that face.
Too soft.
Kurumi immediately narrowed her eyes. She recognized that smile.
"…Sawa-san."
Her tone was flat now. Wary.
"Well…" Sawa said lightly, her smile widening mischievously, "Kurumi-san really is very cute."
Kurumi's cheeks flushed red again. But this time, she didn't look away.
She let out a small sigh, then lightly tapped Sawa's forehead with her finger.
"If you keep saying things like that," Kurumi murmured with a thin, dangerous smile, "I'll take it as permission… to shoot you with one 'light' bullet, you know?"
The threat sounded sweet.
Far too sweet.
And precisely because of that—Sawa laughed softly.
***
The DEM branch headquarters felt far too quiet for a building of its size. Only the hum of the cooling systems and the distant sounds of the city far below managed to seep through the thick glass.
In front of the panoramic window, Sir Isaac Ray Pelham Westcott stood with his back to the room.
His black suit was immaculate, his white tie a stark contrast—like a chalk line drawn across darkness. His white hair caught the daylight, yet his face remained like a shadow—unreadable.
"Ike."
Ellen's voice was calm, but there was a thin layer of tension beneath it.
"You seem overly interested in Ash. Why? He is strong… strong enough to defeat me."
Her brows furrowed. Her pride as the strongest human wizard had clearly been wounded.
"And that cannot be allowed," she continued coldly. "I will repay him for it."
Westcott finally turned around. His movement was relaxed, almost lazy. A faint smile curved his lips—the kind that was never truly warm.
"That is precisely why, Ellen."
He walked slowly, his leather shoes making almost no sound against the floor.
"A power you cannot destroy… is a power you must possess."
His empty black eyes stared straight at Ellen.
"An anomaly like that often… becomes the key to changing the world."
He stopped a single step in front of her.
"For some reason, I feel that—if he were to stand on our side… gathering all Spirit powers, overturning the order of the world… it would become a far easier task."
Ellen narrowed her eyes, her tone sharpening.
"Another one of your hunches." She let out a quiet scoff. "You sound like a child who's found a new toy, Ike."
Westcott let out a soft laugh. Light. Almost genuine—which somehow made it sound wrong.
"True."
He did not deny it.
"Because this world is nothing more than a toy, Ellen."
His smile widened faintly.
"And the child holding the strangest toy… is usually the most interesting one to play with."
____
Author's Note:
The next chapter will be coming soon. I have a few sudden revisions to make to it, so please stay tuned! 😎
By the way, don't forget to add this to your Favorites, leave a Comment, and send your Power Stones! Your big support is my motivation 🔥🔥🔥🔥