Chapter 270 Special Fetish
"Cute and innocent girl falls into the hands of the enemy boss—how can she protect herself and pull off a counterattack?"
"Urgent! Online help needed!"
Igarashi crouched behind the rack of frilly lingerie, typing furiously into her mental journal, her tiny fingers trembling. In her mind, a full-blown battle scenario was unfolding. There she was, the brave magical agent of the Truth Society, cornered by the terrifying boss Kouya—the man rumored to destroy cities with a glance. The only question was whether she'd fight back heroically… or be tragically conquered.
But as she peeked from between the shelves, she realized something was… off.
Why did he just glance her way—then look away as if she were nothing more than a dust mote?
Wait. He wasn't even paying attention to her?
Her fantasy bubble burst with a pop. Not only was he not here to capture her—he didn't even seem to notice her.
And somehow, that was worse.
Being ignored entirely was a thousand times more humiliating than being hunted.
Puffing her cheeks, Igarashi crossed her arms and sulked. She was about to leave, pride barely intact, when Kouya's calm voice drifted across the store.
"I need to buy a bra. White. D cup. Doesn't matter what brand—just functional."
The entire store went quiet.
Igarashi froze mid-step. Her brain short-circuited.
"W-wait… what did he just say?!" she mouthed silently, her crimson eyes widening in disbelief.
Then it hit her like a thunderbolt.
"This guy really is buying women's underwear!" she whispered. "And not for someone else—but for himself?!"
She clasped both cheeks, trembling. "A man this powerful… with that kind of special fetish?! Oh no, this is huge!"
Her mind whirled like a conspiracy board. Red strings connected every past observation she'd made about him. The mysterious calmness, the lack of romantic interest, the detached demeanor—all pointed to a hidden perversion!
The last time she'd reported on him, even the upper council of the Truth Society had fallen silent. Those old men, normally loud and self-righteous, hadn't dared make a single move.
Because deep down, they knew what she knew—provoking someone they didn't understand was suicide.
Rules only bound the weak. The strong created their own.
If they angered him, and he decided to wipe out the entire Truth Society in one evening—it wouldn't even take him long.
Even a one-percent chance of that was enough to terrify them.
So she'd stayed her hand. Instead, she decided to observe him quietly, collect data, and wait for the right moment. That's how real investigators worked.
She had hoped to collect something valuable—maybe a strand of hair, a drop of blood, a sliver of nail, or even a bit of saliva for magical tracing. Anything would do.
But after all her silent stalking, she'd found nothing concrete. He had no obsession with wealth, no weakness for fame, no gluttony or temper. He lived modestly, ate ordinary food, gamed for fun, and rarely lost his composure.
He was, frustratingly, normal.
Until now.
Now she had him.
"His dark secret… exposed," Igarashi whispered, her voice trembling with both dread and excitement. "He's a man with… a lingerie fetish!"
Her mind raced. "I've found it—the fatal flaw behind his calm, unshakable mask!"
She covered her mouth, stifling a laugh that sounded half manic. "Oh, this will make the perfect report. I'll call it… Operation Silk Obsession."
…
Kouya, completely unaware of the legend forming behind him, calmly selected the item. His expression didn't waver even as the surrounding women cast amused or scandalized glances.
He'd stopped caring long ago about how people interpreted his errands. He was just here to get the damn thing and go.
He handed it to the cashier, swiped his card, and left the store with silent dignity.
Igarashi peeked around the corner, watching him leave, eyes sparkling with exaggerated determination. "So he really was serious… and he said it was for use! There's no other explanation—he must be a collector!"
She clenched her fists dramatically. "Kouya, you might be powerful—but now, I've uncovered your weakness. You're a man… controlled by his lust for lingerie!"
Grinning devilishly, she pulled out a tiny notebook and scribbled furiously. "Note number sixty-two: target shows strong preference for white, functional undergarments. Psychological implication—purity complex, paired with degeneracy tendencies. Perfect. Just perfect."
…
Meanwhile, Kouya returned to the clothing shop and handed the shopping bag to Gabriel.
"Got it."
"Pretty fast," Gabriel said lazily, taking the bag with one hand and munching on a convenience-store snack in the other. She walked toward the fitting room. "Machiko, here. New bra, as promised."
"Thank you, Gabriel-san…" Machiko's muffled voice came from inside. Relief colored her tone—she had genuinely feared Gabriel would leave her stranded in shame.
After a minute of soft rustling, the curtain parted.
Machiko stepped out in the white couple outfit. Her silky black hair shimmered in the light, falling over her shoulders like a dark veil. Her gentle features looked even softer under the glow of the store lamps. The outfit, simple as it was, gave her a quiet charm that made people stop and stare.
Kouya blinked. For a brief moment, he forgot to breathe. He'd only ever seen her in her school uniform—seeing her like this was… different. Softer. Human.
"Not bad," Gabriel said after a pause, though her tone lacked enthusiasm. Her eyes flicked down, narrowing instantly.
There it was again—that cursed volume. Beneath the shirt, Machiko's chest curved naturally, rising with each breath. Gabriel glanced down at her own flat figure and visibly twitched.
Why. Just why.
She clenched her fists. "Why does the universe bless the unworthy?" she muttered under her breath.
Her inner voice screamed: 'Curse you, busty betrayers! The Flat Alliance will not forget this!' The jealousy of a fallen angel burned bright and unholy.
"Gabriel, thank you for helping," Machiko said sweetly, pulling out a small pink cat-shaped wallet. "How much was it?"
Gabriel waved lazily. "Wasn't me."
"Eh?"
"It was him." She pointed straight at Kouya.
Machiko froze.
The silence lasted two full seconds before her brain melted.
"W-wait… Kouya-kun bought… my… underwear?"
Her thoughts exploded like fireworks. 'He knows! He knows everything—my size, my measurements, everything!' Her face turned bright red, steam practically rising from her head.
'I… I can't show my face ever again!' she thought, sinking to the floor in shame. Her knees folded beneath her, arms wrapped around her head as she let out a quiet whimper.
Kouya sighed, rubbing his temple. 'Question: calculate Machiko's psychological trauma surface area given maximum embarrassment and public exposure.'
Gabriel chuckled, her irritation fading. She paid at the counter and waved the receipt lazily. "All right, we're done here. Let's go."
Machiko followed them in a daze, holding her bag like a shield. Her pace was slow, each step radiating mortification.
Only when they reached the exit did she realize. "Ah! I'm still wearing the couple shirt!"
Gabriel didn't even look back. "So? It's just fabric. You think wearing a couple outfit automatically turns people into lovers? Then by that logic, every class in matching uniforms is a mass relationship."
Machiko blinked, lips parting slightly. "Th-that's… technically true."
But deep down, her heart fluttered uneasily. Something about it didn't feel that simple.
Gabriel waved lazily, already half-tuned out. "Whatever. I'm going home. Snacks, games, bliss. Bye."
The sun outside had dipped lower, painting the streets gold. The air shimmered faintly with warmth as the mall lights began to flicker on.
"See you, Gabriel-san," Machiko said softly, still blushing. "And… thank you for everything."
As the angel and Kouya disappeared into the fading light, she stood still for a moment, fingers brushing her collar nervously.
'If Vigne ever found out… she'd be devastated.'
Her cheeks turned crimson again. 'I… I'm just as bad as them now, aren't I?'
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