[ Royal Library – Afternoon]
In the deepest chamber of Babyls' grand library, silence reigned like a tyrant. Shelves soared endlessly above and around, walls of knowledge pressing down like an ever-watching judge. At the center, Professor Furcas sat with a book in one hand and a half-finished glass of absinthe in the other, brows knit in thought.
"Matter and Personality Change…" she muttered. "Is it a direct application of Emenel's Law, or could it be closer to Benzoe's model of Demonic Duality?"
A soft tug on her sleeve interrupted her pondering.
"Miss Furcas!" Clara beamed, holding out the Misfit Class's approval document. "Would you please stamp this?"
Furcas didn't even glance up. She waved her hand vaguely and returned to her thoughts.
"Tch… What would best explain the shift in elemental affinity after prolonged exposure to hellroot spores…?"
"Perhaps," a calm voice spoke from beside Clara, "you should consider the Damascus Theory of Evolution."
Furcas froze.
"...What?" she whispered, slowly turning her head to Allocer Schneider.
Allocer adjusted his glasses, face calm.
"If you account for demonic evolution as a consequence of adaptive cognitive resonance, especially when fused with unstable matter, you'd find a correlation that negates Benzoe's fixed soul proposition."
A long silence followed. Then Furcas burst into a wide grin.
"Finally… someone gets it."
Allocer's school title flashed in stylized font:
『Feats King – Allocer Schneider』
『Lion King – Allocer Schneider』
Raising her glass toward him, Furcas nodded.
"Sit with me. Let's talk. You'll have your seal."
[ Schoolyard – Moments Later]
Professor Morax lounged on a bench with a smug grin, holding a thick tome and a flask of tonic.
"How shameful," he said aloud, "seeking answers from students like scavengers. Unlike me, who needn't beg to see the horizon of truth."
Just then, a soft voice whispered beside his ear.
"But don't you want to know what Lady Vepar's true measurements are?"
Morax blinked as Caim, smirking mischievously, sat beside him with folded arms.
"W-what are you saying, young man…?"
Caim leaned in, whispering more. Morax's eyes widened. His nose bled like a fountain.
『Distinguished Gentleman – Caim Camui』
"Such topics should not be ignored by an intellectual, right?" Caim teased.
Morax, flustered but convinced, fumbled for the stamp.
"Y-you're incorrigible… Take it! Now tell me the rest!"
[ Greenhouse Tower – Later]
Amid the blooming vines and carnivorous flora, Stolas Suzy held a clipboard while overseeing her battler members. Gaap and Agares stood before her, arms crossed.
"I do not hand out my approval lightly," she said. "Why should I give it to you lot?"
Agares yawned and casually tossed a seed into the soil. Within seconds, a towering root wall sprouted upward in perfect alignment.
"I just don't like when things are disorganized," he muttered.
Stolas blinked. Then turned to Gaap, who whirled his spear in a high arc, cutting down a rogue vine that had been about to ensnare a student behind her.
"Discipline and grace," he said. "Even plants need them."
Suzy tapped her pen thoughtfully.
"...Alright. Show me more control, and I'll consider it."
[ Magical Development Division – Evening]
In the clang-filled lab of Gal-sensei, sparks and spell circles zipped across metal boards. Gal scribbled formulas until he looked up at his visitors.
"You want intel on all the faculty? You'll need to offer something magical in return."
Azz stepped forward, eyes glowing faintly.
"I'll show you my fire magic. Any time. Anywhere."
Gal blinked.
Then he grinned.
"Deal."
Moments later, he handed them a thick scroll packed with notes.
[ Babyls Courtyard – Sunset]
Iruma stood under the twilight sky, cloak fluttering behind him. Clara skipped up to him, followed by Jazz and Azz.
"Iruma! We got a bunch more stamps!" she grinned.
Azz nodded.
"And Gal-sensei's data. All the weaknesses, tendencies, and preferences of each teacher."
Iruma took the scroll, scanning it quietly.
"Well done."
Just then, a gruff voice called from behind.
"Oi, kid."
A janitor leaned on his broom.
"Can you give me a hand with the garden trash pile?"
Iruma blinked.
Then smiled softly.
"Of course."
Jazz looked confused.
"Iruma, you know we're on a tight schedule."
Iruma walked over anyway, grabbing a rake.
"I said I'd change this school from the bottom up. That means everything starts with respect… even for this."
"Isn't You suppose to be on your evil cycle?" Jazz said while puzzle in his look.
Becasue Evil cycle means for demon is Who casue chaos.
But here Iruma is helping people.
But Why??
The Misfits watched silently as Iruma, for all his cold cunning, showed the warmth that never truly left him [His Iruma side].
---
[Lord Sullivan's Mansion – Evening]
The grand chandelier cast a soft glow over the opulent sitting room where Lord Sullivan sat stiffly beside Opera. Their eyes fixed on Iruma, who lounged casually on the plush couch, flipping through a thick bundle of seals of approval with an eerie calm.
Sullivan cleared his throat, voice tense.
"Iruma kun, this... this 'Evil Cycle' phase of yours — it's dangerous. You're so coolest and also Dangerous."
Iruma looked up, tilting his head with a faint smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Dangerous? Or just finally effective?"
Opera leaned forward, voice gentle but firm.
"You don't have to do this alone. We're here to help you get back."
A long pause. Then, almost shyly, Iruma lowered his gaze and asked softly:
"Lord Sullivan... can I have your seal of approval?"
Sullivan blinked, stunned into silence.
"Wh-what?"
Iruma's smile widened, innocent as a child's.
"I'm collecting them... to make sure I stay on the right path."
Sullivan's face crumpled in resignation.
"...Fine. Take it."
He pressed his seal onto a crisp parchment. Opera raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Iruma's eyes sparkled as he returned to his seals, carefully arranging them like trophies.
After a moment, Sullivan, trying to keep some dignity, cleared his throat again.
"Can I at least have your picture, so when you're back to your usual self, I can laugh about this?"
Iruma's smile turned playful, almost mischievous.
"You want a picture, huh?"
He pulled out his phone, holding it out.
"Come on, Opera. Sullivan — let's make this a memory."
Before they could protest, Iruma snapped a quick selfie — Opera looking slightly bewildered, Sullivan grimacing with reluctant acceptance — and the screen flashed.
Iruma chuckled quietly, slipping the phone away.
"Don't worry. I'll always have room for the both of you... even in my 'Evil Cycle.'"