Chapter 67
After messing up Makima's expression completely, Denji still wore that "nothing happened" smile and said naturally:
"Just kidding~ I'm not that petty."
"Mmm Den… Denji… huff"
Makima took several deep breaths, her chest heaving dramatically as she tried to suppress the runaway heat surging inside her body.
Her fingertips trembled slightly as she wiped away the glistening moisture at the corners of her lips and eyes. Those eyes—always so detached from the mortal world—now seemed veiled in a misty haze, wet and glistening, carrying an almost helpless stubbornness?
"So… this is the me that Denji likes. I remember now."
The moment the words left her mouth, those empty eyes locked onto Denji intently. She began adjusting her expression—actually trying to lock in that "broken, messed-up" look as her default face.
"Sigh~ Seriously."
How can someone be so rigid and literal?
Denji didn't believe for a second she was foolish enough to miss the point entirely.
This was clearly her sulking—using this clumsy way to express dissatisfaction with him "playing dirty."
Denji sighed helplessly. He searched his memories at random, slipping into a recalled moment, and his whole demeanor shifted to something almost doting and gentle.
He stepped forward and cupped Makima's slightly cool cheeks directly with his warm palms.
He could clearly feel the delicate, firm texture of her skin—an undeniably addictive sensation.
A truly palm-sized little face, perfectly fitting in one hand.
Denji slowly withdrew his hands. Makima's expression returned to that flat, doll-like state.
"Okay, no more jokes. This time I'm really teaching you how to smile."
Denji opened one palm and held it in front of Makima's face. His voice softened into the gentle tone of a kindergarten teacher:
"Come on, put your face here."
Makima blinked, her gaze flickering between his palm and his face. Finally, she tentatively—obediently—rested her chin in his hand.
That smooth, tender cheek felt perfect for playing with in his palm~
Palm supporting her chin, fingers lifting, he gently pinched both sides of her cheeks. His thumbs softly stroked the curved dimples.
Rub rub Rub rub Rub rub~
She really was like an exquisite doll~
No matter how he kneaded, she complied perfectly. Yet those eyes never blinked once, still buried under layers of empty void.
Only after her little face had been rubbed sufficiently warm, glowing with a touching blush, did Denji slowly pull his hands back.
Makima instinctively dipped her head a little, her cheek automatically chasing after the lost warmth of his palm.
Only after realizing Denji really was withdrawing did she freeze in place, then slowly lean back.
Stare——
Makima stared at Denji. Though her face remained expressionless, Denji could somehow feel her silently questioning:
What does this mean? What does this have to do with a pretty smile? Another new prank?
Heh, how shallow~
Denji leaned closer. He raised both index fingers and gently pressed them to the corners of Makima's mouth.
The fingertips carried body heat, but he only held them there—making no further guiding motion.
Then he simply smiled and looked at Makima. Neither of them blinked—like they were playing a staring contest to see who would give in first.
For some reason, Denji's fingertips simply resting at the corners of her mouth made Makima feel a faint tingle… even… a little pleasant.
Their faces drew closer and closer.
Finally, Denji suddenly closed his eyes, leaned in quickly, and lightly pecked her crimson lips.
It felt… kind of nice, and kind of happy. Was it because I won the game?
This special feeling made Makima's mouth naturally curve upward.
And the moment her lips formed a natural smile, that sense of comfort and happiness deepened—a genuine inner joy slowly spreading from the depths of her spirit~
Strange?
Why this feeling?
Because I smiled?
No, impossible. Smiling has no such effect—it's just one of many masks called expressions.
Could it be…?
Makima's gaze fixed on Denji's index fingertips, which had somehow already moved away.
The playful fingertips now wiggled lightly in the air—like they were teasing her foolishness, or telling her: You guessed wrong.
Makima refused to believe it. She reached out, grabbed both of Denji's hands, used his index fingers to poke her own mouth corners again, then slowly guided them upward—
(ღˇ◡ˇღ)
Sure enough—the happy, comfortable feeling came from Denji's fingertips. They really did have magic…
No—more accurately, they had that bizarre ability!
Watching Makima's actions, Denji sighed helplessly.
How did she turn herself into a dog being trained?
This time he really hadn't cheated—he had simply guided her step by step, helping her fill in emotions she had never experienced before.
The moment she finally found the true meaning of smiling, she mistakenly believed it was entirely due to his fingers—even developing a dependence on it.
Because of that reaction, she became even more convinced that the comfort came from Denji's touch.
She usually isn't this slow.
"Open your mouth."
"Ah~"
Makima obeyed Denji's command without hesitation, thinking this was the next prerequisite for feeling good.
"Close your mouth."
"Mmm."
Makima blinked. A fresh blush suddenly bloomed across her cheeks.
She seemed to realize her behavior just now resembled a trained dog.
But she really was addicted—the mere act of following Denji's orders felt good.
And inside her body surged an indescribable craving…
"Hold hands."
Makima stared at the hand Denji extended. She hesitated less than half a second before eagerly placing her own in his.
The instant their fingertips touched, it really felt like an electric shock—that special stimulation, though faint, spread rapidly through her whole body.
Until their fingers fully interlocked, all the emotions inside her suddenly settled, distributing evenly across every inch—especially her heart, which felt warm and cozy.
This… really did feel like those dog-training tutorials. Was Denji training her like a dog?
She lowered her head slightly, unsure what expression to make, not wanting Denji to see her current blank face.
The true feelings in her heart couldn't be expressed through any expression.
She felt ashamed and embarrassed by that.
"Lift your head."
Makima slowly raised her head to look at Denji. She saw his other hand reaching toward her and felt curious.
Only one hand this time—what would Denji do now?
--------------------------
Support us on Patreon and gain access to 100 chapters in advance!
patreon.com/inkshield
Special Offer: Badass Tier – 20% OFF
Use code: STAR20