I stepped back into my house.
Not just any house—this house.
The one that, if the system hadn't intervened at the last possible second, would have been draped in black cloth, filled with incense, sobs, and words like "if only" and "we should have" whispered far too late.
The air inside still felt… strange.
Not hostile.
Not heavy.
But emotionally warped, like the walls themselves hadn't yet decided whether they were allowed to relax.
I paused just inside the doorway, letting the door shut behind me with a soft click.
For a moment, memories tried to surface.
Sona's still body.
The panic.
The sound of screaming that felt like it had clawed straight through my skull.
My jaw tightened.
Anger stirred again—slow, molten, patient.
That familiar itch crept up my spine, and my thoughts drifted, uninvited but very welcome, to a certain black-winged individual who currently existed in a state best described as "educational suffering."
Kokabiel.
My stress-relief toy.
My jaw loosened slightly.
…Yeah.
That helped.
Still, I shook my head.
"I can't just torture him forever," I muttered under my breath.
"As tempting as that is."
I mean, I'm still human.
Somewhere.
Deep down.
Probably.
And I do have better things to do.
Then—out of absolutely nowhere—a horrifying thought crossed my mind.
Should I… release him?
Let him live his life?
Move on?
I stopped walking so abruptly that my heel scraped against the floor.
"…No."
The word came out flat.
Disgusted.
Almost offended.
What kind of sick, optimistic nonsense was that?
Release him?
Who even thinks like that?
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
"No. Absolutely not. That's vile. Don't ever think that again."
I wasn't releasing him.
Ever.
If anything, I was delegating him.
Specifically—
"To Serafall."
I nodded decisively.
She definitely had the enthusiasm, creativity, and emotional investment to continue his… education.
Yes.
That felt morally correct.
With that resolved, I finally stepped fully inside.
And froze.
The living room was… normal.
Uncomfortably normal.
The table was set.
Properly.
Plates aligned.
Utensils are placed neatly.
Bowls of food were covered and steaming faintly.
The warm scent of cooking filled the space, layered with spices and something nostalgic—homey.
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"…Wow," I said slowly. "You people really do have nerves of steel."
Less than a few hours ago, reality cracked open, god-level truths were exposed, people died, came back, and the concept of normal was brutally murdered in public.
And now?
Dinner.
Casual dinner.
I wasn't sure whether to be impressed or deeply concerned.
My gaze swept the room—and landed on Mashiro.
She sat near the table, posture straight, hands folded in her lap, staring blankly into space like a porcelain doll left in standby mode.
Not at the food.
Not at the people.
Just… nowhere.
I walked over and stopped beside her chair.
"Yo," I said lightly. "Mashiro."
No response.
"…Mashiro?"
Her eyes shifted slightly, as if the world needed an extra second to load.
I leaned against the table.
"So," I continued conversationally, "how about you go back and tell your family you're alive?"
She finally looked at me.
"You came all the way from England to Japan," I added.
"If you're late getting back, they might think a supernatural beast ate you."
I paused.
"…Which is no longer an unreasonable assumption, by the way."
She stared.
Silent.
Was that shock?
Was that dissociation?
Was that just… Mashiro being Mashiro?
Then she nodded.
Once.
"…Okay."
I stared back.
"…That's it?"
Okay?
That was the entire response?
Wow.
She really had mastered minimal dialogue.
"Well," I said, rolling with it, "alright then. Let's eat first. After dinner, we'll head back to London."
I gestured vaguely.
"My luggage is still there anyway. And don't worry about transportation issues."
She tilted her head slightly.
I continued, explaining casually.
"Most of the planet already knows supernatural stuff exists now. Teleportation becoming public knowledge is inevitable. Nobody's going to question mismatched flight records when reality itself is glitching."
She listened quietly.
Whether she understood or not was anyone's guess.
Before the silence could stretch further, someone slid into the seat beside me.
Sona.
She looked tired.
But alive.
Alert.
Grounded.
That alone eased something tight in my chest that I hadn't realized was still clenched.
"You're back early," she said, adjusting her glasses.
"I thought you'd be gone for hours. It's only been a few minutes."
I sighed.
"It would've been faster if Serafall had shown me Azazel's picture," I muttered.
"Not that it matters now."
I glanced at her.
"How are you feeling? Any lingering issues? Dark rituals? Blood circles? Sacrifices? Candles arranged in ominous shapes?"
She stared at me.
"…Why would I need dark rituals or such?"
I frowned.
"Because you're a devil?"
She closed her eyes.
Inhaled.
Exhaled.
"You know what?"
She said calmly.
"I'm not even going to ask why you think that."
She opened her eyes again.
"But I'm fine. Completely."
"…Alright," I said easily.
"If you say so."
At that exact moment, a familiar presence approached from behind.
Serafall.
She walked up—
And sat directly on Sona's lap.
No hesitation.
No warning.
No acknowledgment that this might be unusual behavior.
It was like gravity had decided that was where she belonged.
"So, Zevion," Serafall said cheerfully, swinging her legs.
"Are you done with your work?"
"…Yeah," I replied.
"Mostly. Still need to collect some reimbursements, but the big stuff's done."
I squinted at her.
"By the way, you really should've given me Azazel's photo. I had no idea what he looked like."
She pouted instantly.
"That's not my fault. You didn't ask!"
"It is your fault," I countered.
"You didn't show me."
"How is that my fault?"
I smiled politely.
"Well, I guess you don't want to be on the same team as Sona anymore. That's unfortunate."
Her face drained of color.
"…No."
She clutched Sona like a lifeline.
"It was my fault! Entirely my fault! I apologize for everything! I was too stupid to think ahead!"
I nodded graciously.
"Apology accepted. You may remain."
"Yay!!"
Sona coughed sharply.
"Ahem. Big sister."
"Yes, So-tan?"
"Why are you sitting on my lap so naturally?"
Serafall blinked.
"Hm? Because it was there?"
Sona's eye twitched violently.
"…Are you an idiot!? What kind of answer is that!?"
"Now, now~."
Serafall said soothingly.
"It's fine. It's just a lap~."
"…Get up. Right now."
Serafall's eyes filled instantly with tears.
"Sob… sob… Zev! Sona is bullying me!"
"What—?! I'm NOT!"
I wrapped an arm around Serafall and gently patted her head.
"There, there. She's just shy," I said calmly.
"You can hug me for as long as you want."
Serafall brightened instantly and tightened her grip.
"In fact," I added thoughtfully, "hug me even more."
She did.
Enthusiastically.
Sona stared at us, utterly done.
"…What are you two even doing?"
Before she could escalate, the atmosphere shifted again.
Ravel entered with Tsubaki, Akeno, and several maids, all carrying trays of more food.
Steam rose.
The scent deepened.
Comfort wrapped around the room like a blanket.
Soon after, Rias arrived, followed by Asia, Koneko, and Kiba.
Chairs were pulled out.
Voices overlapped.
Dishes were placed.
Despite everything—
Despite death.
Despite gods.
Despite war looming on the horizon—
For this moment…
We were here.
Alive.
Together.
Eating dinner.
And somehow—
That felt just as important as any battle yet to come.
Though... Why does it feel like I am forgetting many things?
Like important stuff?
.... Knowing me, that's probably true.
.......................................................................................................................................
Author's Note:
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