Once-glorious streets had fallen into ruin. The cracked roads were deserted, and the cars stranded in the middle of the road were nothing but wreckage.
"Inori, don't run!" On the sidewalk beside the street, a pink-haired girl clutched her left arm as she ran, tears brimming in her eyes. She glanced back at the beautiful figure chasing close behind, her panic only growing as she fled faster.
Her eyes closed, tears scattering in the air. Inori turned and dashed into a nearby park. Her body trembled uncontrollably. Kurumi-chan, I really do love you so much!
"Transform—Yamai Spirit." A gust of wind swirled violently around Kurumi's body as she accelerated through the air. After devouring the time of the Yamai twins, they had long since become one being—the original Yamai Spirit, the controller of wind.
"Inori, don't run away. Didn't you promise to always trust me no matter what?" Moving with the speed of the wind, Kurumi caught up to Inori, releasing her transformation in an instant. She pulled Inori into her arms, the force of her momentum knocking them both down onto the park grass. Inori turned, her terrified eyes staring into the noble, beautiful face so close to her own.
"Don't look! Don't look..." she repeated endlessly, covering her face with both arms, shaking her head in panic.
Kurumi's expression turned commanding and unreasonable. She grasped both of Inori's wrists, pinning them above her head against the grass with one hand, while her other hand held Inori's chin still. Kurumi leaned down—
Inori's pupils shrank sharply, her gaze becoming unfocused as as she felt Kurumi's tongue intertwine with hers.
After a long, breathless French kiss, Kurumi gently released her. She straightened up and untied the ribbon, letting her twin tails unfurl. Her twin tails unfurled, her long black hair sliding over her neck and shoulders.
Then Kurumi's hands moved with dominance, unfastening Inori's clothing and freeing her body completely, scattering the pink garments across the grass. Her own black gothic dress slipped away soon after.
The two entwined together in the grass, mouths locked, limbs tangled, Kurumi dominating every inch of Inori with hands, lips, and tongue until her cries turned breathless.
...
Hours later, Inori stood in the grass, her face flushed red as she lowered her head shyly, looking like a bashful bride too timid to meet anyone's gaze.
"Come here—help me dress." Kurumi's voice was magnetic and satisfied, rich with indulgent ease, like a noblewoman who couldn't be bothered to move herself.
"Mm..." Inori nodded obediently, walking softly behind Kurumi. With gentle, careful hands, she pulled up the zipper of the gothic dress. Then, still blushing, she moved to Kurumi's front, quietly combing her hair and tying it back into twin tails with the same silk ribbon.
"Mm, Kurumi-chan..." Inori gasped softly—Kurumi was teasing her again.
"Focus on brushing my hair. Or I'll punish you later," Kurumi ordered, her wine-red eyes glimmering with amusement.
"Uuu..." Inori whimpered adorably, blushing as she tied the second ponytail.
"So small. There's no feeling at all." Kurumi withdrew her hand, shaking her head with dissatisfaction.
"Kurumi-chan..." Inori looked up at her pitifully, eyes brimming with a trace of grievance.
"What are you looking at? From now on, drink milk every day. Grow up, understood?" Kurumi narrowed her eyes and pulled Inori into her arms.
"Ah..." Inori let out a small cry, her face turning crimson as she lowered her head.
"I understand..." she murmured meekly, leaning her head against Kurumi's shoulder, her whole body resting gently against her.
"Ah, enough. Time to go back. Now's not the time for romance—this Angel has a world to save." Kurumi pushed Inori away proudly, lifting her chin high as she strode forward with regal confidence.
"Mm..." Inori quickly followed behind, head lowered, looking every bit the obedient, shy wife, never leaving Kurumi's shadow.
After walking for a while like a pair of strolling lovers, Inori's troubled voice came from behind. "Kurumi-chan... my body feels dehydrated. I can't walk anymore. I'm so thirsty."
"How useless. It's only been a few hours, and you're already exhausted. Your body's so weak." Kurumi lifted her head proudly and walked into a convenience store by the street.
"Uu..." Inori let out a discouraged whimper and hurried after her into the empty store.
"Kurumi-chan, plain milk doesn't taste good..." Inori murmured, holding a carton of milk in both hands, sipping it gently. Her eyes wandered longingly toward the other drinks.
"Hmph! Inori, no conditions allowed. You'll drink what I give you," Kurumi said, crossing her arms and tilting her head. "This is your punishment. You have no idea how terrible your cooking is—every time I eat it, I feel sick."
"I know..." Inori lowered her head in resignation, sipping her milk obediently.
"Ah, what a pity—so small. I heard that if you rub them often, they'll grow." Kurumi sat on the counter, her wine-red eyes narrowing mischievously.
"Uu..." Inori whimpered softly, lowering her gaze to her chest, then glancing at Kurumi's perfectly concealed figure beneath her tightly fitted clothes...
Blushing deeply, she hugged the milk carton to her chest, stepped closer to Kurumi, and asked in a shy yet expectant voice, "Kurumi-chan... could you help me?"
"Ah, there's no feeling at all. I'm not interested. Inori, do it yourself. When you grow up, then I'll consider it." Kurumi tilted her head up, her expression pure disdain. "So flat... I can't even be bothered."
"Uuu..." Inori drooped her head in disappointment, glancing at her own small chest in dismay. There was no way she could do such a thing herself.
"What's wrong? Not going to say I bullied you this time? You used to complain every time, saying, 'Kurumi-chan bullied me, bullied me...'" Kurumi teased, lifting Inori's chin with a finger, her wine-colored eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Uu... Kurumi-chan didn't bully me," Inori said nervously, blinking her long lashes adorably. Her soft, pink lips looked impossibly enticing.
Kurumi slowly leaned forward. Inori's eyes fluttered shut, her innocent face tinged with faint happiness.
"No, I'm not kissing you. You just drank milk—the taste's terrible." Kurumi released Inori's chin and turned away in disgust.
Inori let out a small cry and began searching the store shelves, looking for toothpaste and a toothbrush.
After an entire day of "experiments," Kurumi discovered that Inori's tolerance level was beyond comprehension. No matter how sarcastic or teasing she became, Inori always accepted everything with a submissive, gentle expression, like a shy wife. She even foolishly memorized every unreasonable command Kurumi gave her and tried her best to fulfill them.
...
At the GHQ Research Facility, inside a cultivation pod lay a woman—Haruka Ouma, Shu Ouma's adoptive mother and, in truth, his aunt.
"We've told Shu Ouma that there's a chance she can be revived. But even with the same technology used to cultivate Inori, it's impossible for her to regain her memories. She's truly dead," one of the researchers said hesitantly. After all, Shu was the King.
To keep him stable, they had offered a comforting lie. The resurrection of the dead—such a thing was beyond reach.
"The Crown has matured. Now it's time for the King to mature." Kurumi's wine-red eyes gazed at the pod containing Haruka Ouma. She made a decision.
"Awaken—Zafkiel!"
Behind her, a massive clock appeared—Kurumi's Angel, Zafkiel.
Because it had consumed the time of countless humans, Zafkiel had begun to evolve. Its hands had stopped moving long ago—it was in a dormant state.
Even after ten years, Zafkiel had shown no signs of stirring. Kurumi herself had no idea when its evolution would be complete. Thus, she had no choice but to forcibly awaken it.
Doing so meant giving up Zafkiel's chance to evolve further. But as the saying goes—time waits for no one. If she didn't use Zafkiel's power now, nurturing the King would become infinitely more difficult. Kurumi no longer had the time to let Shu Ouma grow naturally.
DONG... DONG... DONG... The massive clock chimed. Kurumi's outfit shifted into her Astral Dress—a red and black gothic short dress.
Her twin tails, usually tied in front, were now bound behind her. A red-and-black headpiece fastened her bangs in place, revealing her other eye—a golden clock-shaped pupil.
She still wore her high heels. Unlike the past self who preferred boots, she had no interest in them.
Ignoring the stunned researchers around her, Kurumi raised her flintlock pistol and declared, "Ninth Bullet—Tet."
The great clock behind her began to move. Its hand stopped at the ninth mark, and an unseen force of time condensed into a bullet, loading itself into her gun. Kurumi aimed the barrel at Haruka Ouma and fired.
Bang! The bullet pierced through the glass chamber and struck Haruka directly. Her body swiftly dissolved into nothingness as the Ninth Bullet carried her time-force back into the Angel, Zafkiel.
The Ninth Bullet—Tet. As long as the target's existence had not completely vanished, Kurumi could steal their time, observe their memories at will, and, if necessary, replay that period of time—restoring them to the state they were in before death.
Such a feat might have been impossible for the original Kurumi Tokisaki, but this body, crafted by Alaya, could achieve it. For Alaya had designed this Kurumi with the ability to once fire the Twelfth Bullet, returning thirty years into the past to change countless fates. Compared to that, resurrecting Haruka Ouma was a trivial matter.
Closing her eyes, Kurumi carefully examined Haruka's memories. Then, with a faint smile, she turned and left the research facility.