The Club room smelled faintly of chalk dust and forgotten piano strings. The curtains billowed gently, catching moonlight like silk in motion.
Ayaka Ryuzen stood at the window, her long indigo-violet hair catching the glow, like threads of midnight woven with discipline. Her arms were crossed, her posture immaculate, and her eyes sharp. Distant, she watched the world below with a gaze that dissected everything.
Behind her, Seraphina Falcor, arms folded, leaned against the old teacher's desk. Her uniform collar was loosened just enough to reveal the soft flicker of the Falcor crest, a mark of her noble lineage, pulsing faintly beneath her skin.
"So," Ayaka said at last, calm but lined with a blade's edge, "you brought him in?"
Seraphina didn't move. She smirked slightly, eyes half-lidded in amusement. "I know Ayaka. What are you thinking?"
"That it was impulsive."
"That it was stupid," Seraphina corrected, "that I saved him out of pity."
Ayaka said nothing.
But her silence was eloquent.
"I saw him dying," Seraphina continued softly, the moonlight catching her crimson eyes. His chest was pierced through. Blood flooding out. "He looked like he could die any moment."
She looked toward the cracked window.
"But he didn't panic. He didn't cry. Didn't beg."
She closed her eyes.
"He just... clung. To life. With everything he had left."
Ayaka didn't turn. Humans are stubborn. Especially the pathetic ones."
Seraphina's smirk faded. "That wasn't stubbornness. It wasn't fear of death. It was something else."
A pause.
Seraphina's voice dropped, quiet as wind over grave soil. "He wanted to exist. Not survive. Exist. And that kind of hunger…? That's rare."
Ayaka finally turned, slow and deliberate. Her gaze locked with Seraphina's. "He joked about it. Laughed when you marked him."
"I noticed," Seraphina replied dryly. "He's insufferable."
"So why keep him?"
There it was—the real question. No judgment. Just clinical curiosity. Devil royalty-to-devil royalty.
Seraphina pushed off the desk, heels clicking softly on the cracked floorboards as she walked closer to the window. She joined Ayaka, shoulder to shoulder, staring into the moonlit city.
"Because he didn't flinch," she said. "When I explained what he was now—what we are—he didn't hesitate. Not once."
Ayaka brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"…No," she admitted. "That doesn't sound like an ordinary human."
There was a beat of quiet.
Only the hum of mana. The rustle of curtains.
Then Seraphina murmured, more to herself than to Ayaka:
"I don't know why… but I feel like he'll become my greatest asset in the future."
Ayaka didn't respond immediately.
She let
The silence hangs, thoughtful and taut.
Finally, she exhaled, cold breath fogging faintly in the chill night air.
"Just make sure your asset doesn't bite you first."
Seraphina smiled again.
Not warm.
Not cruel.
Just curious.
"We'll see," she said. "Some beasts are worth the risk."
[ Club Room – After School ]
The sign still said History Research Club.
It was as if they were writing essays on samurai and cataloging pottery shards in a world where spirits and demons were as real as the air they breathed.
But inside?
Yeah, no.
This wasn't a club.
It was a war room with better chairs, the walls adorned with ancient weapons and mystical artifacts, and the air thick with the scent of incense and magic.
Eiji stood near the door, hands stuffed in his pockets, scanning the room like he was one wrong breath away from vaporizing.
Which… felt fair.
Everyone here radiated power—and not the school-ranking kind. The "oops-I-incinerated-a-spirit-again" kind.
Ayaka stood by the chalkboard, arms crossed, analyzing him like a failed science project. Miya sat curled on the windowsill, nibbling melon bread like it owed her money. Riku leaned against the back wall, his gaze between bored and deadly. And Seraphina? She was front and center, regal, composed, and still terrifying. The scrutiny in the room was palpable, each character assessing Eiji in their way.
Front and center. Regal. Composed. Still terrifying.
"So…" Eiji cleared his throat. "This is what you all do in your free time? Demon slaying and passive-aggressive glaring?"
Nobody laughed.
Of course not.
He edged a little closer to the window. Not because he was scared. Not.
Not because Miya was staring at him like a human-sized bacteria slide.
"So," he ventured, "you're always this intense, or is that just for me?"
Miya's pale eyes slid toward him.
"I hate perverts."
"Wow," Eiji muttered. "And here I thought we were bonding."
"Touch me," she said flatly, "and I break your fingers."
"Duly noted, Ice Princess."
Riku didn't even blink, but the muscle in his jaw twitched—maybe from holding back a sigh or maybe to remind everyone he was still capable of violence.
From the center, Seraphina clapped once. Crisp. Controlled. Attention snapped toward her.
"Enough flirting, Eiji."
"That was flirting?" he asked, deadpan. "Man, I'm so out of practice."
Ayaka smirked faintly from her corner. "This one's got a mouth on him."
"And that mouth," Eiji said, gesturing to himself with mock pride, "is gonna get me killed one day."
Seraphina stepped closer, her eyes narrowing just slightly. "You're here because you've been chosen. Not because you're trusted. Not yet."
Eiji nodded, lips tightening just a bit. The joking faded.
"For now," she continued, "you follow orders, observe, and survive. That's your job."
"Works for me," he said. "Big fan of the whole 'not dying' gig."
The silence that followed was dense. Not hostile. Just watching. Measuring.
Ayaka's eyes narrowed. "You're not like us."
"I'm aware," Eiji replied. "You're murder professionals. I'm just the guy who tripped into the horror movie and somehow didn't die in the first ten minutes."
"That's debatable," Miya muttered.
But Seraphina, oddly, smiled.
And that… was somehow worse.
"Welcome to the club, Eiji Kuroryuu," she said. "Let's see how long you last."
Eiji exhaled.
Then smirked.
"Long enough to make it weird, probably."
Then the door creaked open.
Everyone turned.
A girl stepped inside, clutching her schoolbag close to her chest like a protective charm. She didn't command attention—she disarmed it. Her presence flowed into the room like morning mist through a battlefield.
Eiji blinked.
She looked like someone who belonged in a painting or maybe a dream he'd once forgotten.
"Eiji, this is Amane Shirayuki," Seraphina said with rare softness. "She's a first-year and our… designated Healer."
He didn't speak right away. His brain hit pause.
Her hair shimmered silver-white, kissed with soft blue. Her aquamarine eyes—calm, kind, almost glowing—met his, and for just a moment, the buzzing static of his mana smoothed. Silenced.
"…Hi," she said gently, bowing. "It's nice to meet you."
Eiji opened his mouth to say something clever.
Nothing came out.
Something tugged at his chest—not pain. Not panic. Just… warmth. Familiar and unfamiliar all at once. A sense of being seen in a way that had nothing to do with sight.
"Uh… hey," he managed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Likewise. And your entrance just knocked half the edge off this cursed room, so props."
Amane giggled. Giggled. It was light, genuine, and didn't make him want to hurl.
Her gaze drifted to his gloved hand—the one with the glowing seal pulsing beneath the surface.
"You're the one Seraphina saved, aren't you?"
"Guilty," Eiji said, scratching his cheek. "Well, technically, I was unconscious, bleeding out, and possibly hallucinating her into a sexy demon savior, but yeah."
Ayaka sighed from the side. "There it is again—the mouth."
Amane didn't flinch.
Instead, she smiled. Soft, sweet, like snow falling on warm skin.
"I think… you're stronger than you think."
And just like that, the warmth in Eiji's chest flared—like a string inside him had been plucked—no blaring alarms. There is no magic activation. Just a feeling. Gentle. Disturbing. Kind.
What the hell was that?
He stared at her for a beat too long.
Then looked away, muttering, "Okay, well, that's vaguely emotional and way above my comfort zone. Noted."
Amane tilted her head slightly. "You don't have to act strong all the time."
"Good, 'cause I was mostly going for 'sarcastic and semi-functional.'"
Her laugh was quiet. And oddly healing.
Miya watched the exchange with narrowed eyes.
Seraphina, though… she said nothing.
Just observed.
Eiji glanced down at his hand again. The seal glowed faintly.
But beneath it… the Eye pulsed. Reacting. Curious.
As if it had felt something, too.
The room dimmed—not from the lights, but from the shift in tone.
Seraphina's presence sharpened like a drawn blade. She stepped toward the center of the room, hands clasped behind her back, eyes focused. Not playful. Not smug. Commanding.
"The school sees us as a harmless history club," she began. "A group of eccentric students who like dusty tomes and ancient war stories."
She paused.
"But our real work?"
She gestured toward Eiji's hand.
The falcon seal flickered, pulsing like a heartbeat beneath the skin.
"We're a covert unit," she said. "We track and eliminate rogue entities—devils gone mad, angels who've abandoned Heaven's order, fallen seraphs who think Earth is still theirs to rule. And yes, we kill demons too—especially the ones who slip between cracks and stir up chaos."
The words settled in the air like gunpowder.
Eiji raised a hand halfway, like a kid in class. "Quick question—are we talking low-level chaos or, like, 'city-on-fire' type of deal?"
Ayaka didn't answer. She just looked at him.
Riku stayed silent, as usual.
Miya rolled her eyes. "Try existence-warping chaos, moron."
"Okay, so, like, high-stakes Tuesday," Eiji muttered. "Cool, cool."
Seraphina didn't flinch.
"You've been marked, Eiji. You're on the roster now. Your life isn't private anymore. It belongs to this room."
He gave a low whistle, wiggling his gloved fingers. "All this from one magical branding. I really should've read the terms and conditions."
"You will be useful," she said, voice even, like a statement of eventual fact, not hope.
Eiji grinned. "Aww, you do believe in me."
"I believe you'll either become an asset… or a liability we'll have to erase."
The grin froze.
"Okay. That's… significantly less heartwarming."
Amane shifted slightly but said nothing. Her expression softened with unspoken concern.
Seraphina stepped closer to Eiji, lowering her voice just enough to make it personal.
"This club doesn't tolerate dead weight. If you falter, if you break… we don't have the luxury of mercy."
"And here I was hoping for a performance review and a company picnic," Eiji said, trying to sound breezy, though his eyes had sharpened slightly behind the sarcasm. "Noted."
Seraphina studied him. Not amused. Not cold. Just measuring.
Then she turned back to the others.
"He's not ready yet. But keep watch. If he adapts, train him. If he doesn't…"
She let the sentence dangle.
Eiji didn't speak this time. But deep in his chest, the seal warmed… and deeper still, the Eye stirred, quietly watching them all.
[ Rooftop – Nightfall ]
The wind whispered across Kusunogi High's rooftop, rustling uniforms and stirring long hair like a scene out of a gothic drama. Moonlight spilled in pale ribbons over the group as they stood in a loose circle, the silence thick with unspoken tension.
Eiji hugged his jacket tighter, side-eying the lineup like he'd stumbled into a JRPG character select screen.
Then Seraphina raised her hand.
No chant. No theatrics.
Just a sharp ripple—like the sky had cracked inward with a wet crunch.
The air shimmered. Folded. Tore.
A glowing tear opened in midair, jagged and humming, a veil of swirling mana that hurt to look at for too long.
Eiji flinched. "...Seriously? No warning this time?"
"Nope," Seraphina replied, not even glancing at him. "Learn to adapt."
"Right. Sure. Let me recalibrate my brain for dimensional parkour, no big deal."
One by one, the others stepped through without hesitation.
Ayaka vanished into the rift like it was an elevator.
Miya cracked her knuckles and went next, muttering something suspiciously like, "Let him trip and break his neck."
Eiji stared at the tear, then looked back at the Tokyo skyline.
"Y'know," he muttered, "I could still fake a cold, go home, and binge anime like a responsible failure…"
Then he sighed.
"...But nooo. Let's go interdimensional monster-hunting instead. Great idea."
He stepped forward, and reality flipped.
The world spun.
Hard.
His stomach did a barrel roll, and he filed a complaint. Light pulsed like a flashbang behind his eyes.
Then—darkness.
Then—cold.
They stood on the outskirts of Tokyo. A ruined building loomed ahead, blackened windows like broken teeth in a decaying jaw. The stars were hidden behind thick clouds, and the wind had the bite of early winter.
Eiji stumbled a step and rubbed his arms.
"Okay," he muttered, looking around. "This is 100% where a horror game starts. I'm calling it now."
"Only if you're stupid enough to go in alone," Miya said, adjusting her gloves.
"I feel attacked."
"Good."
Ayaka scanned the building without a word. Riku stood beside her, still unreadable.
Seraphina stepped forward, her wings briefly flickering into view—just enough to remind them who was in charge.
"This is a known breach zone," she said. Mana tears have been spiking for days. We're here to scout. Confirm. If anything shows up—"
"We neutralize," Ayaka finished.
Eiji exhaled and looked at the building again.
His skin prickled. His seal itched.
And deep within him, the Omniverse Eye pulsed—still sealed, still watching.
But listening.
He wasn't ready.
Not yet.
But that didn't mean he wouldn't learn.
One way or another.
The others moved ahead without him.
Their shadows vanished into the mouth of the ruined building, silent and sharp like blades disappearing into a sheath.
Eiji lingered behind, boots crunching against broken gravel. The wind brushed his jacket, cold and dry. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. Or maybe it wasn't a dog. With this crew, you never knew.
He exhaled.
His hand drifted over his chest, resting just above the faint, hidden glow of the seal burned into his skin.
It pulsed once.
And deeper inside—beneath the skin, beneath the soul—something stirred.
The Omniverse Eye.
Still sealed. Still silent.
But never truly asleep.
"...You're still in there, huh?" he whispered. "Yeah. Same here."
No one else knew.
Not Seraphina.
Not Riku.
Not even Amane had caught it with her moonlit smile and eerie, see-through gaze.
And that's how it would stay.
Because of this?
This wasn't their story.
It was his.
"I'm not your puppet," he said softly, the words not angry, but absolute.
He looked up. The moon sat high and full, casting silver across his face like judgment.
"I'll smile when I need to. I'll joke. Play the dumb rookie. I'll wear the mask, bow when I have to, and nod like I don't see the strings."
He smirked.
"But when the time comes..."
His voice was quiet, but his eyes—oh, they glinted.
Silver for a heartbeat. Circles and runes, ancient and hungry, flickering behind the reflection in his pupils. Gone in an instant.
"...You'll all see what I am."
The wind tugged at his hair. A shiver ran through the ruined field.
He took one step forward.
Then another.
Toward the crumbling building. Toward the mission. Toward the lie, he was choosing to live—for now.
They thought they'd bound him.
They thought the contract was the cage.
But cages weren't just for keeping something in.
Sometimes... they were built to lull the guards into thinking they were safe.
"Keep playing your roles," he muttered, "and I'll keep playing mine."
He caught up with the others, face unreadable, tone easy.
"Sorry, I just had a little dramatic moment back there. Do you guys ever stop to think how creepy this place is? 'Cause I've seen horror movies, and this is the hallway where the side characters die."
No one responded.
Perfect.
He smiled. Not wide. Not warm.
Just sharp enough to hide the truth.
End of Chapter 3