"You guys can stay as long as you want, since I'm not entirely sure myself if any suspicious activities might happen."
I muttered that out like a tired barkeep closing up shop. Three hours. Three exhausting hours of dancing around the same pointless questions—why build a village? Why train monsters? Why here, of all places?
They didn't need the truth. Just the window dressing. Enough smoke to hide the fire.
In exchange, I got exactly what I needed. Kingdom layouts, government names, guild protocols. Most useful of all: Blumund and their barely-competent leader Fuze—wait, Fuse? Fizzle? Whatever. He'll be a pawn someday. That's what matters.
As the trio stood up to leave, I spotted her doing the same. Shizu. Still quiet, still reserved, still… flickering. That's the best word for her. Like a candle with a shaky flame.
"Shizu-san. Stay a moment?"
She blinked, tilting her head.
"Hmm? What for?"
"Nothing important," I said, too quickly. "Just wanted to talk."
She glanced at the others. They gave warm smiles and stepped out of the tent without question.
She turned back and gracefully folded her knees beneath her, settling in the traditional Japanese seiza.
Ah. There it is again.
The part of her that remembers the same home I do. A subtle sign… but unmistakable.
"Tiefling…" she murmured, studying me. Her voice was soft. Thoughtful.
I leaned forward, fingers tapping the desk Kaijin slapped together on short notice. I focused on the dull thud of each tap. Focused so I wouldn't look directly at her.
"Shizu Izawa," I murmured, watching her tense. Her fingers brushed the edge of her mask.
"…What's your name?"
"I already told you."
"Not that one," she said, eyes narrowing slightly. "Your other name."
I let out a chuckle. Amused, not defensive. She was smart. Observant. Not many people catch on like that.
"How'd you know?"
"You're rebuilding Earth," she said, not unkindly. "Any otherworlder would notice."
She took off her mask, and just like that—there she was. A girl and a warrior. Hair like black silk, tired eyes like autumn rain.
So that's why Veldora liked her…
...No. Focus, Akuma.
"You're right," I said softly. "I'm from Earth. ...Japan, actually."
I told her about the day I died—about a country that ran on exhaustion and vending machines. I didn't think she'd laugh, but she did. A small, almost guilty chuckle.
"Sorry," she said. "I shouldn't laugh."
I shook my head. "It's fine. I laughed too, back then. Didn't know it was the last day I'd see the sky."
She lowered her gaze.
"There's more," I continued, my voice quieter now. "I didn't just come here. I knew this world before I landed in it."
I told her everything. The novels. The future. The dominoes already set to fall.
At first, she didn't believe me. But the pieces fit. Too well.
Her face fell. Her fingers clenched the mask tighter.
"…Ifrit," I whispered. "He's inside you."
"…Yes."
That word—just one syllable—but it felt like someone punched through my chest and grabbed my spine. She said it like a confession. Like a death sentence.
"I can feel it," she said, staring at the mask in her lap. "I don't have much time. It's getting harder and harder to control him. I'm afraid I'll bring ruin to everything."
I didn't respond. I just… listened. She needed to speak. She needed someone to hear her before she was gone.
"I don't hate this world," she whispered. "I want to. But I can't. It gave me pain—but it gave me moments too. Smiles. Warmth. Just like him..."
Leon Cromwell. The man who used her. I bit down on the thought before it twisted my face into something she didn't deserve to see.
I placed my hand over hers. Just lightly.
"I understand," I said. "More than you think."
She looked at me, startled. But she didn't pull away.
We were both strangers to a world we didn't ask to be part of. Both grasping for meaning. For peace. She'd found fragments of it. Me? I was still building mine from the bones up.
"You were taken as a child, weren't you?" I asked.
She nodded. "I heard Japan's become even more beautiful."
"It has." I smiled, but it didn't reach my eyes. "I didn't live in Tokyo, but it was beautiful—especially at night."
With a quiet breath, I used [Thought Communication] to show her. Neon-lit streets. Cherry blossoms in bloom. Photos and memories of a world long gone.
Her lips curled into a small, radiant smile.
It killed me.
Because I knew what came next.
"Akuma…" she said suddenly, voice shaking. "Can I make a wish?"
"Of course."
"Please… do what you need to do."
Her words didn't just hit me—they shattered me. I could feel the crack form inside my chest, a fracture that widened with every beat of my heart.
What I needed to do?
I still hadn't found a way to save her. Ifrit was a time bomb. Letting him loose could trigger a cataclysm. But the only method I had—the only one that might work—was to use [Predator]. Absorb Ifrit. Absorb her.
And that would mean...
I stared into her eyes. Still warm. Still trusting.
Could I really kill her?
Even now, when she sat there, calm and ready—trusting me with her fate?
My plan had no place for emotion. No room for attachments. I needed [Degenerate]. I needed Raphael. The skill that could rewrite reality itself. Without it, I would never reach the heights I needed to.
And yet...
She smiled at me.
"Akuma… thank you. For listening to me."
And just like that, the weight of all my future ambitions came crashing down against the quiet, burning truth:
I didn't want to lose her.
But with every second that passed, I knew—I would.
So I closed my eyes. Took a deep breath.
And made the choice I didn't want to make.
Because perfection had a cost.
And I was about to pay it.