Chapter 9
Time rewinds.
Inside the holding cell.
Power, still in her restraint suit, lay sprawled on the iron slab bed, staring blankly at the ceiling while daydreaming about conquering the world through schemes and raw power.
Gurgle~ Gurgle~
So hungry… Today's "meal" is bread again. That trash doesn't deserve this great one!
(A few crusts remained on the meal tray, marked by savage bite marks as boundaries…)
She rubbed the tiny, stumpy horns on her head—barely thumb-sized now.
Ugh… miserable…
No! Not miserable at all!
This great one is merely conserving strength! Pretending to be weak to fool those idiots outside—and especially that worst, biggest devil, Makima!
As she thought it, she scrubbed her face messily with her palm—conveniently wiping away the tears that shouldn't have been there.
Deep down, though—no matter how much she lied to herself—she couldn't let go of the one thing that truly belonged to her, now stolen away.
Meowy…
If nothing changed, today would drag on like every other boring day.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Someone knocked on the iron door.
Power ignored it, rolling over to curl into a ball on her side.
The person outside didn't care. They followed protocol: collected the tray, slid in a fresh uniform set and a bag of blood packs.
"Change in the locker room. Makima-sama wants you."
The voice was cold, dead, emotionless.
Then came the strange clack-clack-clack footsteps fading away…
"Ughhhh…"
Power let out a muffled whine, clawing irritably at her golden hair.
"This great one isn't going! Who wants to listen to that big devil?! I'm not scared of her!"
Ten minutes later…
Makima opened her office door and glanced at Power—sprawled on the sofa, legs kicked up on the coffee table.
Just one look. Yet Power felt chains tightening around her throat, suffocating. Her body gave an involuntary shiver.
Makima truly only glanced—then walked straight to her desk.
Before she could speak, as she passed Power and turned toward the window—
Power snapped into perfect parade-rest stance. The only rebellion left was turning her head stubbornly away, refusing to meet Makima's eyes…
"No tardiness. Very good, Power."
"Oh… oh… yeah."
"You'll work properly with your new partner from now on."
"Y-Yes… yes!"
Silence~~~
The door opened.
Power saw the human walk in—smiling with that dumb, goofy grin.
Instinctive human disgust surged; she wanted to bare her fangs and snarl.
But Makima was right there.
Aaaah—annoying! If I can't see it, it doesn't exist!
She heard muffled conversation behind her—Makima and the human talking about something.
Didn't want to listen…
Still heard. Aaaah!!!
Gonna wash both those annoying voices out of my brain!
A brief pause.
Shoulder tap.
Dodge.
Hand grab.
Out the door.
Released.
Sneak peek.
Power didn't understand maps at all—she wasn't a thinker—but her memory was sharp. She recognized it instantly.
That building in the photo… that was exactly where the Bat Devil was hiding with Meowy!
Does Makima know?
Meowy… no, the mission was just assigned. Nothing's happened yet!
But why… why did Makima phrase it that way? Does she really not know what's inside… or is Meowy already…
Power's mind spiraled into nightmare visions:
Ruthless Makima wouldn't care about some cat's life. The Bat Devil was just an ant to her—why bother sparing an even tinier life while crushing one?
Poor Meowy drowned in a sea of blood, devoured completely.
No—no! That's not it! The mission's brand new!
Makima even said it was only "suspected" devil activity—whether she meant it or not.
At least she said it!
So this dumb human must be cannon fodder for some experiment?
Better to use him as trade bait to get Meowy back~
Decision made, Power snuck a glance at the oblivious-looking Denji.
Then her eyes darted away again—entering full "fake innocent" mode: staring at nothing, whistling badly, pretending total ignorance.
Huh? Why's the human sticking his hand out?
Is he fantasizing about this peerlessly beautiful great one placing her hand on his?! Hah~ (sneer)
He's reaching again?
Closer… he actually grabbed it?!
Power stared at Denji in disbelief.
Hesitation…
Fine. For now—since he's kinda easy on the eyes (✘) and has some use-value (✔)—I'll pretend to go along.
Both silently judged each other in their heads…
But the moment the master-servant dynamic clicked into place, Power had already lost spectacularly.
Wisdom glinted in Denji's blood-red eyes.
Heh heh heh. I'm not the first-run idiot who lost his mind at boobs or a pretty face anymore!
The current me is terrifyingly strong!
Grand dreams need real power to back them—and I've got exactly that.
Time to follow the plan…
After Denji led Power out, a short ponytail with a sword on his back entered Makima's office on orders…
They leaped between rooftops and alleyways.
Then Denji suddenly stopped at a street arcade machine.
Colorful screen, pumping music. Denji took one side and started mashing buttons with practiced speed.
Clean hits, satisfying feedback sounds. Power—who'd been scoffing at the "childish" game—got sucked in almost immediately.
Denji quietly let go of his side.
"How are you so stupid? Monster's right there and you don't even counter! Hmph—watch this great one save the day!"
She grabbed the controls.
Her technique was trash—pure button-mashing chaos—but Denji's flawless movement control covered her perfectly.
Lost in the game, Power forgot to force her "tough" voice. Her natural, lively tone rang out—bright and surprisingly pleasant.
Denji's mood lifted just hearing it.
Unfortunately, that beautiful voice also attracted some trash.
Colorful-dyed hair, crooked smirks, exaggerated swagger—classic street punks trying to look tough.
Who knows why these wandering losers happened to pass by.
Didn't matter. Easy fix.
"Is this a tomato or a 西紅柿?"
The Tomato Dilemma cast in under 0.2 seconds.
A few new statues joined the scenery.
The game wasn't long. With their mismatched-but-perfect teamwork, they cleared it fast.
Good thing he picked easy mode—Power's wild flailing would've been impossible otherwise.
Post-victory, Power's face glowed with excitement. In that high, even Denji looked less annoying.
Not as great as this one, but… acceptable as a lackey, I guess. Haha~
Denji kept holding her hand as they wandered alleys. Power slowly relaxed—starting to look around, actually searching for things she might like in this world…
After seeing plenty, she mentally ranked them:
Feels inferior to blood-red, gold (crossed out secretly), and black-tinged white…
Before she could dwell on it, Denji guided her to their real destination—a manga shop.
Vibrant covers, dramatic characters, story-filled pages.
Power's attention snapped again. Under Denji's gentle nudges, she dove headfirst into the worlds inside the books~
She didn't even notice when the warm hand holding hers was replaced with… a tomato.
What an idiot…
Denji's "annoyed" glance at the dummy Power overflowed with open affection.
At the shop entrance stood an old man, head buried in a manga.
Hearing footsteps, he looked up, adjusted his glasses—before he could speak,
Denji raised a finger to his lips.
"Shh—"
He pulled cash from his pocket (courtesy of those "kind" punks earlier), slid it across the counter.
"My girlfriend's inside reading manga. I'll come pick her up later~"
Voice low but clear.
The old man understood, grinned, and gave a big thumbs-up.
Denji returned a bright, sunny smile—then walked out.
"What a good kid. Not many like that these days."
The old man sighed softly, then placed a romance manga on top of the bills to keep them from blowing away. He didn't pocket the money.
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