Chapter 33
"Chuu—"
Those soft, tender cherry lips simply enveloped him, sucking and tasting Denji's kiss with near-greedy abandon~
The Control Devil really was terrifying.
In the mere instant of a kiss, she could think endlessly—applying every scrap of knowledge in her mind.
From clumsy to masterful in less than a few breaths.
Denji felt like his very soul was being drawn out.
Meanwhile, Power—stunned into blankness—realized what was happening.
Her eyes instantly turned red.
The cross-star pupils seemed to overflow with blood, dyeing the entire eye scarlet in a heartbeat!
In that moment, Power fully awakened the memories of her past life as the Blood Devil.
"This great one is going to kill you!!!"
Red light trembled in her eyes. Blood-colored killing intent seemed to solidify into an explosive shockwave.
As she raised her hand, a crimson scythe gradually materialized from her palm.
Denji's brow furrowed. He finally pulled back from the kiss, "Manifested" his stance, and raised the four arms of "Royal Blood Handle · True Blood Devil Form" slightly.
An extremely solid blood-colored barrier instantly isolated the entire space—preventing any invisible damage from the "blood scythe" from harming innocent bystanders nearby.
He didn't stop Power. Naturally, he also didn't defend Makima.
After Denji withdrew from the loving kiss, Makima calmly retracted her unnaturally long, slick tongue…
Then her gaze shifted to Power. She raised her hand and pointed casually—no exaggerated aura, just that simple, elegant motion.
"Don't move, Power.
That's an order."
Power froze instantly. The half-formed "blood scythe" began to dissipate. The terrifying scene vanished almost immediately—leaving only those eyes still blazing with ultimate scarlet and murderous intent…
Yeah… worthy of the Control Devil.
Even if the domination seemed lifted, once someone had been defeated by her—once dominated—there was almost no chance of ever breaking free again…
As the disturbance faded, Denji also withdrew his "Manifestation" and shifted his gaze from Power to Makima.
Her eyes were like an overflowing cauldron of desire—thick waves of lust and craving nearly spilling from her pupils. Her moist tongue slid across her sensual red lips, leaving a glossy sheen like honey. Her flushed cheeks looked ready to ignite.
Denji blinked in confusion. In the split second his eyes closed and opened, the scene vanished.
Makima now looked perfectly calm—only a faint blush remained on her cheeks, impossible to tell if it was leftover from before or just healthy color.
Was it an illusion?
Even though the change was fast, Denji was certain he hadn't imagined it.
Unconsciously he touched his lips—only now noticing they were slightly swollen…
This woman really is part dog, huh?
So good at licking?
Denji felt a wave of numbness. He shook his head, pulling himself out of the lingering wonderful sensation.
"Anyway—that's that. I accept your condition. Now let's talk about that 'suitable opportunity' you mentioned."
"Of course."
Makima slowly sat back down, regaining her composed demeanor.
Denji dragged over a chair and—without hesitation—sat Power in his lap.
Now he really needed to comfort her properly.
"First—release your domination over Power."
Makima waved her hand casually.
A small sound gradually emerged from Power's chest.
"Wuu… uuu—"
Soft whimpers slowly turned into sobs.
Power kept wiping furiously at the corners of her eyes with one hand while the other trembled as it reached toward Denji's lips.
She kept mumbling:
"Wuu How could she do that"
Her slightly cool little hand—fingers white and jade-like—touched Denji's mildly swollen lips.
"How could she do that, mmph—wuu wuu!"
Her voice broke with sniffles—pitiable and almost comical.
Those fingers gently wiped, clearly desperate to erase any trace of Makima that might remain on Denji's lips.
But she was terrified of hurting him if she pressed too hard.
So she could only touch lightly—again and again—press, wipe the finger hard on her clothes, press again…
Repeating endlessly, as if this could perfectly remove every last trace of Makima from Denji's mouth.
Denji didn't resist at all. Both hands kept stroking and soothing Power like he was comforting a child—holding her tightly while letting her "do whatever she wanted."
Makima appeared completely unaffected.
She simply watched. Deep in her mind, one part endlessly analyzed, summarized, thought, and learned—while another part still handled normal conversation.
"Tonight, Aki's team still has an overtime mission. It involves a fragment of the Gun Devil."
As she spoke, she pulled a mission file from somewhere and pushed it across the desk toward Denji.
Denji reached to take it—
But Power moved first.
She snatched the file, held it in the air, and slapped hard at the spots Makima had touched—as if trying to wipe away some invisible filth.
Only then did she open it and hand the documents to Denji.
It was information on the "■ Fish Devil."
Denji had some memory of this one. It had some strength but was ultimately handled easily by Aki and Himeno together.
Denji looked at Makima questioningly.
Makima—without him noticing—had already retrieved a sealed glass orb from another drawer.
Inside the orb: a slightly melted fragment of the Gun Devil.
"With this added, it should create considerable trouble for them.
Under enough pressure, even two independent individuals will be forced—by external factors—to grow tightly connected."
"That's your method?"
"Can't it fulfill your needs? Or do you feel you can't fully control the situation and need me to fine-tune it?"
"Uh…"
"Then that will be another 'price'~"
"Forget it. I'm too lazy to keep wasting brain cells on you here."
"…Oh?"
During the back-and-forth, Makima's eyelids drooped lower and lower—exhaustion visibly rising.
Not getting the answer she wanted in her heart, her gaze dropped completely to the desk.
The part of her brain analyzing Denji and Power's intimate interactions kept stabbing at her heart—negative feedback constantly draining her mental energy.
So now she looked increasingly tired.
This conversation had about run its course.
With a simple "See you later,"
Denji—carrying Power and holding the file—left the office without looking back.
…
Light faded. The air pressure around Makima became terrifyingly low.
Her hand moved weakly—resting on a nearby stack of documents. Fingers lightly pinched and folded the paper.
She held the pose for a long time.
In the end, she didn't vent her emotions on external objects.
The mission file—full of troublesome blanks that Denji was supposed to fill—was now covered in Makima's own handwriting.
Of course it wasn't a big deal, but…
She had wanted to build a good relationship. She hadn't done anything yet—so why was she hated?
Makima genuinely couldn't understand.
The fingers resting on the paper only creased it lightly—while the hand on her own thigh had already dug in deep.
The fabric around the wound was completely soaked in blood. Crimson drops fell along her pant leg—heavy, uncomprehending tears…
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