Days slipped by.
And it was the kind that… breathed.
...
Ingvild learned to walk without her legs trembling.
The first time she made it from the bed to the far wall of her room without clutching at anything, Asia almost burst into tears and Rias had to pretend she suddenly needed to adjust the curtains so no one would see how shiny her eyes had gotten.
The hospital gowns disappeared after that.
Asia and Rias took her shopping, dragging her gently but firmly away from the sterile whites and soft blues of Underworld medical wear and into the chaotic world of human fashion.
Rias gravitated to elegant dresses.
Asia squealed over cute cardigans and soft sweaters.
Serafall, who had attached herself to the outing the moment she heard "clothes" and "Ingvild-chan", tried—multiple times—to sneak a magical girl outfit into the pile.
"Just try it on," she wheedled, eyes glittering. "Look, look, it has little blue frills, it's totally your image~."
Sona's hand appeared from the side like the hand of a long-suffering god.
The outfit vanished from the basket with the weary precision of someone who had been intercepting Serafall's schemes since childhood.
"Absolutely not," Sona said, expression flat. "We are starting with normal clothes. One genre at a time."
"Meanie," Serafall muttered, puffing out her cheeks.
Ingvild watched it all with wide, slightly overwhelmed eyes, fingers brushing tentative paths over fabrics. The world was loud in ways that had nothing to do with Sacred Gears—screens, music, chatter, the rustle of clothes—but for the first time in a long time, it didn't feel like it was going to crush her.
Rias held a dress up under Ingvild's chin, tilting her head.
"This suits you," she said gently. "Sea-green."
Ingvild touched the fabric.
"…I like it," she admitted.
Asia clasped her hands. "You look like a mermaid princess…!"
Serafall, already plotting future matching outfits, beamed.
Sona, who had somehow ended up carrying half the bags, just sighed very quietly and told herself it was good for her arm strength.
...
A few days later, Ingvild saw the ocean again.
Not the hushed, endless dreamsea where her song had once wandered alone, but a real shoreline in the human world. The kind with gulls and plastic buckets and kids shrieking when the water was colder than they expected.
Ren brought her there when the afternoon sun was slanting low and the crowds had thinned to the stubborn and the romantic.
She stood at the edge of the water in a borrowed sundress, toes curling in damp sand as the waves rolled in and out, in and out, leaving foamy lace around her ankles.
The air was salty and sharp. Wind tangled in her long violet hair. When she closed her eyes, the rhythm of the surf felt almost like a giant sleeping heartbeat.
Ren stayed a few steps behind her, hands in his pockets, giving her space.
He watched her shoulders rise and fall, watched the way the lingering stiffness in her posture loosened as the sea breeze washed over her.
When she hummed—just a little, almost without noticing—he felt it immediately.
That soft, clear thread of sound.
The song she'd been singing alone in her soul for years.
Nereid Kyrie, the Poem of the Endless Green Sea—the Song of Leviathan in his terms—stirred.
Old instincts in the world around them pricked up their ears. Dragon blood, devil blood, anything with a trace of that mythic lineage, had always wanted to answer that call.
But this time, the song didn't spill free.
The new structure Ren had woven around it caught the resonance the instant it began to vibrate. Layers of alien Dao essence and Myriad Origin loops wrapped around the melody, softening its edge, diverting its influence. The raw, command-laden power bled into his own Heaven instead, swallowed by the twelve Fate Palaces standing vast and calm behind his soul.
No dragons came crashing down from the sky.
No devils clutched their heads in agony.
No ships suddenly changed course to obey a sleeping queen's whim.
On the physical shore, the only visible effect was a group of nearby seagulls tilting their heads in unison, ruffling their feathers… and then, inexplicably, settling down instead of harassing picnickers.
One hopped in a small circle, decided life was tolerable, and tucked its head under its wing.
Ren huffed a quiet laugh.
"Good start," he murmured.
Ingvild turned, bare feet sinking into the wet sand, a question in her eyes. Her fingers had risen to her throat without her realizing, as if to catch the song there.
"Is it…?" she asked, voice just above the waves.
"It's working," he said simply.
No long explanation. No complicated breakdown of chaos layers and neutralized commands.
Just that.
She stared at him for a long heartbeat.
Then, slowly—like someone who had forgotten how to use those muscles—Ingvild smiled.
It was small and incredulous, like she was afraid it would be taken away if she made it too big.
Ren etched that smile into his memory, filed it away with a thousand other tiny victories.
...
A few days after Ingvild stopped startling every time a smartphone buzzed too close to her ear, Ren found Koneko in the manor's backyard.
Late afternoon light slanted across the training field, painting the grass gold and the barrier pylons in long shadows. The air was thick with demonic power, Touki, and faint traces of holy energy from an earlier session.
Koneko stood in the middle of a formation circle etched into the ground.
She wore training clothes, hair pulled back in a short, practical tail. Sweat darkened the fabric at her collar and clung to the curve of her neck. Her breathing was steady, not ragged—pushing herself, but not out of control.
Chaos-threaded Touki rolled off her in regular pulses. It was thicker and more refined than it had ever been, each surge following a precise loop through meridians and bones before sinking back into her core. Myriad Origin Scripture guided every breath, catching stray leaks of power and folding them back into her circulation.
Behind her, visible to anyone who had learned to see beyond the surface, her Soul Palace shone.
A quietly blazing moon hung in the inner sky above a foundation of white stone and soft green, its light steady rather than harsh. It was almost fully condensed now, walls solid, "weather" tame.
She was also scowling at a snack wrapper that had somehow ended up in the exact center of her formation.
Ren watched her for a moment, amused.
She sensed him, of course.
Even without senjutsu, even without the Thousand Mile World line he'd taught her, she knew his presence. Her shoulders shifted minutely. Her ears—hidden to normal eyes—twitched under her hair.
"…You're staring," she said flatly, without looking up.
"I'm appreciating," he corrected. "There's a difference."
She glanced over her shoulder, golden eyes narrowed.
"Appreciating what?" she asked.
"The way your qi circulates," he said promptly. "The stability in your stance. The fact that you haven't hopped to the kitchen for more snacks in at least thirty minutes. Truly, a miracle."
Her lips twitched before she could stop them.
"Idiot," she muttered.
But the scowl eased.
Ren stepped into her training circle without disturbing the lines. The etched formations shivered around his presence, recognized his Dao, and adjusted.
"How's the Immutable Core feeling?" he asked. "Any backlash when you push it?"
She rolled her shoulders, flexed her hands, feeling the weight of her own power.
"…Heavy," she admitted. "But… good. When I take hits now, it feels like they sink into something deep instead of rattling everything. And my senjutsu isn't… leaking as much."
"Good," he said simply.
No fuss. Just quiet approval.
She looked away.
Her gaze drifted toward the manor, where the others moved through their own small routines.
Through a window, she could just make out Rias and Sona arguing politely over paperwork. Asia carried a basket of herbs, humming under her breath. Somewhere, Issei yelled something about training and was immediately shouted at by three different women. Ingvild was curled up with a book in the sunroom, Ophis sitting nearby like a small, silent guardian.
"…Everyone's getting stronger," Koneko said, very softly. "Rias, Akeno, Asia. Even Issei idiot. You. Ophis. Dragons. Gods."
Her fingers curled into the hem of her shirt.
"Sometimes it feels like I'm just… the girl who punches and eats sweets."
Ren watched the way her shoulders hunched, the way her tail—always visible to his perception even when she hid it—curled tight against her inner world.
He stepped closer until he was within arm's reach.
"Koneko," he said.
She didn't look up.
He reached out and flicked her forehead. Not hard. Just enough.
She yelped softly, more from surprise than pain, and glared up at him, hand flying to rub the spot.
"What was that for?" she demanded.
"For thinking stupid things," he said calmly. "You're not 'just' anything."
His voice stayed relaxed, but the words carried weight.
"You're the girl who learned to trust her own instincts again," he went on. "Who decided not to run away this time. Who lets a whole lot of messed-up people rest their heads on her lap when they're tired and pretends she doesn't like it."
Her face went pink.
"I do not—"
"You do," he said. "And that's fine. It suits you."
His gaze dipped over her, then back up, deliberately slow but warm, not leering.
"You've grown a lot," he added. "In power. In heart. And, yeah, other places. I like all of it."
Koneko froze.
Then she made a noise somewhere between a growl and a squeak.
"…Pervert," she said weakly.
"Accurate," he agreed. "But only with my girls."
He let that sit for a breath, then smiled.
"Which brings me to my next point."
He held out a hand.
"Come out with me tonight," he said. "Just us."
Her ears twitched again.
"…A date?" she asked, cautious.
"Yeah."
She stared at his hand.
Once, the idea alone would have sent her bolting for the nearest hiding place, a muttered excuse and a trail of crushed snack wrappers in her wake.
Now, she took a slow breath.
In her Soul Palace, the white stone at the center—the Immutable Core—pulsed once. Solid. Unshakable.
She reached out.
Her fingers slipped into his.
"…Okay," she said, very quietly.
Ren's smile softened.
"Good," he said. "It's a date."
...
They went to the city at dusk.
Paper lanterns lined the streets for a small local festival, their warm light pooling on the pavement. Food stalls smoked and sizzled; the air smelled like grilled meat, sugar, and battered something. Laughter drifted on the evening breeze, rising and falling like a gentler echo of battlefield cheers.
Koneko wore a simple dress and a light cardigan Asia had bullied her into trying. It hugged the new lines of her body without making her feel exposed. Her hair was down for once, soft around her face, making her look a little older and a little more dangerous at the same time.
Ren walked beside her in his usual coat, hands in his pockets, steps unhurried.
People parted without realizing they were doing it.
Not dramatically—no one screamed and leapt away—but the crowd flowed around them, leaving a small bubble of space in which Koneko could breathe. The pressure of strangers' emotions, usually a constant background hum on her skin, dulled to something manageable.
He wasn't flaunting his Dao.
He just… tilted the world a little.
They tried skewers from a street stall, steam rising in fragrant curls.
Koneko methodically demolished three in a row, eyes half-lidded in quiet bliss, tail twitching in the inner world of her Soul Palace even if it didn't show here.
Ren watched her with open fondness.
"You know," he said, "when we first met, you would've glared at me just for suggesting a date."
She swallowed, cheeks puffed slightly.
"…I still want to glare," she admitted. "Just less."
"Progress," he said. "I'll take it."
They wandered past game booths and food carts, the glow of festival lights reflecting in Koneko's eyes. Children ran by, waving sparklers. Somewhere a cheap speaker played a summer song slightly too loud. A couple walked ahead of them, fingers intertwined, laughing quietly.
Koneko watched them for a moment.
"…I used to think things like this weren't for me," she said suddenly.
Her fingers tightened on the stick in her hand.
"Dates. Festivals. Just… being a girl. Not a weapon. Not a broken stray."
Ren's smile thinned at the edges.
"Your old 'friends' did a number on you," he said. "And the old devil system helped."
He bumped her shoulder lightly with his.
"I'm greedy," he went on. "I'm stealing that future back."
She glanced up at him, eyes flickering.
"You say things like that," she muttered, "so easily."
"It's not hard when they're true," he said. "And when I have the power to back them up."
He nodded toward the stalls.
"Tonight, you're a girl on a date with her boyfriend," he said. "That's it. No past. No future wars. Just you, me, and entirely too much sugar."
Her lips twitched.
"…Fine," she said. "But you're carrying me if I get food coma."
"Deal," he said, without hesitation.
They played a ring-toss game.
Ren, whose control over vectors and trajectories made the entire thing a joke, deliberately missed twice—rings bouncing just off the prize pegs—before landing a perfect shot that kissed the edge and dropped exactly where he wanted.
The stall owner sighed like a man who knew he'd been had and handed over a plush cat.
Koneko took it with both hands, expression carefully blank, ears pink.
"…It's cute," she said.
"Like its owner," he replied.
She shot him a glare on reflex, tail flicking in her inner world.
He laughed quietly.
The night deepened.
The crowd thinned as families went home and the drunk and the romantic stayed behind. Lantern light softened, and the music from the main square bled into distant noise.
They ended up on a quieter street, walking side by side under a line of dim streetlamps. A vending machine hummed to their left; a stray cat watched them from a wall, yellow eyes half-closed.
Koneko's steps had slowed.
She was leaning just a little closer to him than usual, shoulder brushing his arm every few paces.
"…Ren," she said.
"Yeah?"
She chewed her lip for a second, then stopped walking.
Turned to face him.
The festival's distant noise seemed very far away all of a sudden. The circle of streetlamp light around them felt almost like a small, private stage.
"I love you," she said simply.
No stutter.
No hedging.
Just a girl who had been told she was a monster more times than she could count looking up with eyes that held no lies.
Ren felt his chest loosen in that odd, familiar way it did whenever one of his women did something brave and earnest.
He smiled.
"I know," he said, voice soft. "I love you too, Koneko."
He cupped her cheek, thumb brushing the faint heat there.
She leaned into his touch like a cat seeking warmth without even realizing she was doing it.
He dipped his head.
Their first kiss that night was gentle, a quiet press of lips that tasted faintly of sugar and grilled sauce. Her breath hitched. She made a small, startled sound against his mouth, then relaxed, fingers curling in the front of his coat.
He kissed her again, a little deeper this time, giving her plenty of space to pull back and finding none taken.
Inside her Soul Palace, the Immutable Core she'd forged thrummed—not with battle heat, but with something softer, more vulnerable. The walls of that inner world shifted, making room for this new weight.
Ren felt it.
Respected it.
Later, when they were back at the manor and the house had settled into its nighttime hush, they ended up in his room, Koneko curled against him, head on his chest.
He stroked her hair, slow and steady, heartbeat a calm drum under her ear.
The details of what came next were theirs alone.
From the outside, all anyone saw was a closed door and, the next morning, a Koneko who walked a little closer at his side and glared a little less when someone called her cute.
The plush cat she'd won was tucked on the nightstand, staring at them with its button eyes.
Her fingers traced idle patterns over his shirt.
"…Today was nice," she said, into the quiet.
"Yeah," he said, stroking her hair. "It was."
She went quiet for a minute.
Then, her fingers stilled.
"…Ren," she said again.
"Hm?"
She tilted her head up.
"…Stay with me," she whispered. "Don't go."
"I'm not going anywhere," he said simply.
He kissed the top of her head.
"Not tonight. Not any night."
She shifted, rising over him, silvery hair falling in a curtain around them. Her expression was serious in the dim light filtering through the curtains. She looked at him like she was committing him to memory.
"…Show me," she said. "That you mean it."
Ren's hands settled on her waist, warm and steady. His gaze didn't waver.
"I always mean it when it comes to you, Koneko," he murmured. He guided her down gently, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to her lips, pouring months of quiet certainty and fierce protection into it. She melted against him, a soft sigh escaping her as the last of her tension finally gave way.
"Talk to me," she whispered against his lips, a breathless request. "Please."
Ren smiled, a gentle curve of his lips against hers. "What do you want to hear, kitten?" he murmured, using the nickname she pretended to hate but secretly loved.
"Everything," she breathed. "Tell me I'm yours."
"You are," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her. His hands drifted from her waist to her back, tracing the line of her spine through the thin fabric of her dress. "From the moment I saw you, hiding your strength behind silence and stoicism, I knew you were extraordinary."
He nipped at her lower lip, earning a soft gasp. "I love your quiet strength, your fierce loyalty, the way you pretend not to care but would do anything for the people you love."
His fingers found the zipper of her dress, sliding it down with excruciating slowness. "I love the way you eat snacks with such concentration, as if they're the most important thing in the world. I love the way your tail twitches when you're trying to hide your emotions."
The dress pooled around her waist, revealing smooth skin and delicate curves. Ren's gaze was appreciative but not devouring, reverent but not worshipful. He saw the girl who had blossomed from a wounded stray into a confident young woman who was finally claiming her place in the world.
"I love the way you've grown, Koneko," he murmured, pressing kisses along her collarbone. "Not just in power, but in confidence. You shine so brightly now."
Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. Instead, she captured his lips in a passionate kiss, her hands tangling in his hair as she poured all her unspoken emotions into it. She was a storm of sensation—soft curves and hard muscle, gentle sighs and desperate moans.
Her hands moved with purpose, unbuttoning his shirt with practiced ease, her touch electric against his skin. "I love you too, Ren," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "More than I ever thought possible."
Ren chuckled softly, tilting her chin up so their eyes met. "I know," he said, echoing her words from earlier. "And I'll spend the rest of my life proving it to you."
He shifted, rolling her beneath him with a smooth, controlled motion that had her gasping in surprise. He balanced on his forearms above her, careful not to crush her with his weight.
"You're beautiful, Shirone," he murmured, using her real name, a privilege only he and her sister has.
"Ren," she breathed, her hands tracing the muscles of his chest. "Don't stop."
"Never," he promised, lowering his head to capture a nipple in his mouth, sucking gently until it pebbled under his tongue. Her back arched, a soft cry escaping her lips as pleasure pooled in her belly. His hands roamed her body, mapping every curve and hollow, learning her responses as if for the first time.
Her senjutsu sensitivity made every touch magnified, every caress a lightning strike of sensation. She squirmed beneath him, a soft mewl escaping her lips as he explored her body with expert precision. Her Touki flared, a soft, silver-white aura that mingled with the golden energy of the Myriad Origin Scripture, creating a dance of light and shadow around them.
Ren's hands slid lower, tracing the curve of her hips, the dip of her waist. He could feel the tremor that ran through her as he neared the heat between her thighs. "You're so responsive, kitten," he murmured against her skin. "So beautifully sensitive."
"Only for you," she gasped, her hands fisting in the sheets as he cupped her through her panties, the fabric already damp with her desire.
"Good," he growled, a possessive edge to his voice. He hooked his fingers in the waistband, pulling them down slowly, revealing her to his hungry gaze. "Because I intend to enjoy every last drop of it."
His fingers delved into her folds, finding her slick and ready for him. She cried out as he circled her clit, teasing her with light, feathery touches that had her writhing on the bed.
"Ren, please," she begged, her hips bucking against his hand.
"Please what, kitten?" he asked, a teasing note in his voice. "Tell me what you want."
"You," she gasped. "I want you inside me. Now."
He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent shivers down her spine. "You ask so nicely," he murmured, sliding a finger inside her just to hear her gasp—slow, teasing, letting her feel every ridge of his fingertip before withdrawing. "But I want to hear you say it properly."
Koneko's nails dug into his shoulders, her breath hitching as he traced lazy circles around her clit with his thumb. "I—I want you," she managed, voice fraying at the edges. "Not your fingers. Not tomorrow. Now."
Ren smirked, pressing a kiss to her racing pulse. "Demanding," he murmured, but the way his hips settled between her thighs betrayed his own impatience. He guided himself to her entrance, pausing just to watch her golden eyes darken with frustration.
"Say it again." He pushed in just a little, enough to make her arch, head falling back.
A whine escaped her—high and thin and utterly unlike the composed girl she pretended to be. Her legs wrapped tight around his waist, heels digging in, trying to force him deeper. "Ren, I swear—"
"Swear what?" he asked, leaning down to capture a nipple between his teeth, nibbling gently. "That you'll bite me? That you'll take what you want?" He pushed another inch deeper, then stopped. "Because I think you already have."
Her breath hitched, a soft, desperate sound as he withdrew almost entirely, only to press back in, a slow, deliberate invasion that had her clutching at him like a lifeline.
"I love you," she gasped, the words torn from her. "I love you, I love you, I—"
He kissed her, swallowing the rest of her plea as he finally—finally—sheathed himself fully inside her. Her inner walls clenched around him, a soft, welcoming heat that had him groaning into her mouth. He stayed still for a moment, letting her adjust, letting the sensation wash over them both.
"You feel perfect," he murmured against her lips, beginning to move in a slow, steady rhythm. "Like you were made for me."
Koneko gasped, her head falling back as he hit a spot inside her that sent sparks racing up her spine. "Ren—"
"Right there, hmm?" he asked, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he angled his hips, grinding against that sensitive bundle of nerves with every thrust. "That's it, kitten. Let me hear you."
Koneko bit her lip, trying to stifle the sounds threatening to spill out until Ren slowed his movements to a teasing crawl, hovering just shy of where she needed him. "Stop holding back," he murmured, brushing his lips against the shell of her ear. "I want all of you tonight. Every gasp, every moan. My greedy little cat."
He nibbled her earlobe, smiling against her skin. "Let me hear you purr."
"Pervert," she breathed, but the word was ruined by a soft moan as he returned to a deep, steady rhythm, each thrust sending a fresh wave of pleasure through her.
"Your pervert," he corrected without missing a beat, one hand sliding down to grip her hip, pulling her closer, deeper. "The one who makes you scream like this."
And she did.
As his pace quickened, as the sounds of their lovemaking filled the room—skin against skin, breathless gasps, soft cries—Koneko let go. The last of her inhibitions dissolved under the onslaught of sensation, and she cried out his name as he drove into her, over and over, relentless, unyielding.
Her Touki flared, a soft, silvery light enveloping them, and she felt him pulse inside her, answering her power with his own. The Myriad Origin Scripture responded in turn, a golden aura swirling around them as their energies merged, a dance of light and shadow that illuminated the room in a soft, ethereal glow.
"Ren—" she gasped, her voice ragged as pleasure coiled tight in her belly. "Don't stop."
He chuckled darkly, nipping at her shoulder before murmuring against her sweat-dampened skin, "Never." His thrusts slowed deliberately, teasing her, drawing out every sensation until she whined in frustration.
"You've got me, kitten. Always." His thumb found her clit, rubbing in firm, deliberate circles. "You're doing so well, kitten. So strong for me."
Koneko's breath hitched at his praise, a fresh wave of heat washing over her. She arched her back, pressing her breasts into his hands as he teased her nipples, rolling the pebbled buds between his fingers. "Ren… please—"
"I love it when you beg," he murmured, pinching one nipple, earning a sharp cry. "Tell me what you want."
"You," she gasped, her hands fisting in the sheets. "More of you. Everything."
"Everything, huh?" he asked, a teasing note in his voice, but he complied, increasing the tempo of his thrusts, his fingers working her clit with expert precision. "You'll have it, kitten. All of me."
Koneko cried out as pleasure washed over her, her body arching off the bed as she came, her inner walls clenching around him in rhythmic pulses. Ren followed her over the edge with a soft groan, burying himself deep inside her as he found his own release, his hips jerking against hers as he emptied himself into her.
As their breathing slowed, Ren rolled onto his back, pulling Koneko with him so she was sprawled across his chest. Her fingers traced lazy patterns over his skin as she listened to the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear.
"You're warm," she murmured, nuzzling against him with unconscious feline contentment.
Ren grinned, running a hand down the curve of her bare hip where she straddled him. "You're sticky," he countered, thumb brushing the dampness between her thighs.
Koneko flicked his ear. "Your fault."
"Worth it," Ren murmured, kissing her temple. His hands drifted lower, tracing slow circles on her lower back. "You still with me, kitten?"
Koneko exhaled against his collarbone, muscles lax but fingers tightening slightly on his shoulder. "Mn. Just... thinking."
"About?" Ren traced idle patterns on her spine, feeling her shiver.
"Everything," she muttered into his skin. "Us. How... easy it feels now." Her fingers curled against his chest. "You make it easy." She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. "How do you do that?"
Ren's smile was small but steady. "I don't try to make things easy, Shirone. I just try to make them right." He traced her jawline. "That's different."
She tilted her head, considering. "Then why does it feel like both?"
"Because you're not fighting yourself anymore," he said quietly. "You're not fighting me." He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. "You've earned the easy part."
She watched him, then slowly lowered her head back to his chest. "...You're an idiot."
"Your idiot," he agreed, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.
His fingers trailed down her side, tracing the contours of her body with a reverence that belied their earlier urgency. "You're still trembling," he murmured. "Did I push you too far?"
Koneko scoffed, nipping lightly at his collarbone. "As if you could." But the way her legs tightened around him betrayed her words. "I just... didn't expect it to feel like that."
Ren chuckled, smoothing a hand down her back. "Like what?"
"Like..." She hesitated, then exhaled sharply. "Like I was flying and drowning at the same time."
He rolled them gently, pinning her beneath him again without breaking contact. "Good," he murmured against her lips. "Because I intend to drown you in me every night from now on."
Koneko arched into him with a soft gasp, her nails scoring his shoulders—not in protest, but in silent demand. "Promise?" she breathed.
Ren's answering smile was dark with possession. "On my Dao. So, shall we continue?"
Koneko bit her lip—that tiny hesitation he adored—before hooking a leg around his waist and pulling him flush against her. "Took you long enough to ask," she murmured, nipping his jaw. "But only if you keep talking."
He chuckled, sliding deeper inside her. "I planned to." His fingers traced the curve of her hip, pressing just enough to make her shudder. "I love how you respond to me, Shirone. Every gasp, every tremor... it's all mine."
"Ren—" Her breath hitched as he rolled his hips.
"You're beautiful like this," he murmured, capturing her lips in a slow, deep kiss. "Spread out for me, taking all of me... your silver hair spilling across the sheets... your golden eyes burning with desire..."
She moaned against his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair as he set a rhythm that had her arching into each thrust. "More," she demanded. "Don't stop talking."
"You're insatiable," he growled, nipping her earlobe. "My beautiful, insatiable kitten." His pace quickened, each thrust deeper, harder. "Tell me what you want."
"You," she gasped. "Everything."
"Everything," he echoed, sliding a hand between them to stroke her clit in time with his thrusts. "You'll get it. Every last drop."
Koneko arched sharply, a ragged moan torn from her throat as Ren's fingers worked her in tandem with the relentless pace of his hips. Her hands fisted in the sheets, back bowing as waves of pleasure washed over her, each one crashing higher than the last.
"Ren—" she gasped, her voice breaking on his name as she hovered at the precipice, so close to shattering.
Ren chuckled, increasing the tempo of his thrusts, his fingers working her clit with expert precision, time passing all around them
....
Later that week, it was Ravel's turn.
Ren found her in the manor's library, surrounded by books and holographic displays of Underworld trade data.
The library was a strange mix of old and new—wooden shelves, paper books, and the faint buzz of floating screens Ajuka had convinced Sona to install. Soft light pooled on polished tables.
Ravel sat in the middle of it all like a small, determined general at war with paperwork.
She was frowning at a chart when his shadow fell over the page.
"You're going to give yourself wrinkles," he said mildly.
She jumped.
The image windows flickered as her concentration snapped. Then she straightened, smoothing her dress as if that would erase the moment of surprise.
"I was working," she said, a little stiff. "There's a new set of regulations from Beelzebub's office that affect Phenex export quotas, and—"
"And you've been staring at them for three hours," he said. "I checked."
Her eyes flashed.
"You were spying on me?"
"I live here," he said. "And I pay attention to the girls I'm courting."
The word landed like a drop of molten metal in cool water.
Courting.
Color flooded her cheeks.
Her chin lifted as she tried for haughty and landed somewhere around shy.
"…Courting, hm?" she said. "You have a very strange way of showing it. Vanishing into apocalyptic battles and then reappearing with dragon gods and legendary Leviathans in tow."
"It's just another flavor of life." He gave her a crooked smile. "Keeps things interesting."
He held out a hand.
"Come out with me," he said. "I want tonight carved into your soul."
Her heart did something complicated at that phrasing.
"…You can't just say things like that," she muttered.
"Yes, I can," he said. "I'm very good at it."
She stared at his hand.
At his calm, unwavering eyes.
At the memory of all the times he'd stood between her and disaster—to protect everyone without ever asking for payment.
Slowly, she closed the ledger and set it aside.
"Very well," she said, sliding off the chair with courtly grace. "But if this 'carving' involves anything undignified, I reserve the right to immolate you."
"Noted," he said, amused. "Fire first, talk later. Very Phenex."
He laced his fingers with hers.
Reality folded.
...
They stepped out under a sky full of stars.
Not the sky over Japan.
Not the Underworld's dark ceiling.
This was a pocket of space Ren had carved out between worlds, using Great Red's dream trails as anchor lines and his own Dao as the nails that pinned them in place—a quiet balcony hanging over the flow of universes.
Below them, rivers of light drifted, each one a path to a different reality, currents of possibility sliding past one another without mixing. Some glowed warm, some cold, some carried faint echoes of familiar laws.
Above, his twelve Fate Palaces glowed faintly, refracted through layers of law so they appeared more like distant constellations than overwhelming suns. To those who could truly see, each "star" was an entire Heaven stacked atop the others.
Ravel gasped.
"This is…" she whispered. "Where… are we?"
"A safe spot between places," he said. "No time pressure. No meetings. No paperwork. Just us."
A gentle breeze that wasn't really air ruffled her curls, stirred her dress. The space here hummed with dense, refined energy—part chaos, part demonic power, part something older—that made her Phoenix flames stir just under her skin.
Inside her, the embryonic pattern of a Soul Palace—the one seeded when she'd started practicing Myriad Origin Scripture under his guidance—pulsed. Tiny threads of chaos answered his presence, slipping through her like cool sparks, offering her a taste of something beyond even high-class devil senses.
She felt it clearly for the first time.
Her own "world" beginning to form.
He stepped behind her, resting his hands lightly on her shoulders.
"Close your eyes," he said.
She hesitated, then obeyed.
"Breathe," he murmured. "Let your power move. Don't force it. Just… listen."
She did.
For a moment she just felt ridiculous—a high-born devil heiress standing in an impossible sky, eyes closed like a child being told to make a wish.
Then she felt it.
The Myriad Origin loop he'd woven into her cultivation caught the faint threads of chaos in this place, refined them, and fed them back into her core. Her budding Soul Palace resonated, a small, perfect circle of self inside the vastness.
It wasn't big.
It wasn't impressive.
But it was hers.
And threaded through it all, she felt his Dao.
Massive. Intricate. Terrifyingly gentle as it wrapped around her own power, not dominating it, but supporting it—like a hand under her back, ready to catch her if she slipped.
Her Phenex flames flared.
Not wild.
Steady.
Controlled.
"…I can feel it," she whispered. "The second Soul Palace. It's… clearer here."
"Good," he said softly. "Remember that feeling. When you're back in the mess of politics and family expectations, when your brother is being an idiot and old devils are complaining, you'll know there's more. That you're bigger than their boxes."
Her hands clenched slightly.
She thought of the girl who'd watched her brother lose to Rias and felt her world crack. Of the girl who'd thrown herself into managing Phenex affairs to prove she was more than "little sister." Of the woman she wanted to be—someone who could look the entire Underworld in the eye and not flinch.
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.
"Ren," she said, voice tight. "Why me?"
He tilted his head.
"You could have any number of devil heiresses," she went on in a rush, words tumbling over each other. "Goddesses. Dragons. Women who are already legends. Why bother with a fussy, stubborn Phenex who spends half her time buried in ledgers?"
He laughed, low and warm.
"Because I like you," he said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
Her heart skipped.
"I like the way you think," he continued. "The way you care about your family even when they make you want to scream. The way you take on responsibility without being asked. And I like the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention—calculating, curious, a little annoyed."
Her face burned.
"I do not—"
"You do," he said. "And it's cute."
He moved around to stand in front of her, hands still light on her shoulders, then slid them down to take her hands instead.
Stars reflected in her eyes, mingling with the beginning of tears.
"I'm not collecting you as a trophy," he said quietly. "I'm asking you to walk with me. To stand by my side when I tear down old systems and build better ones. To argue with me when I'm being stupid. To burn anyone who tries to chain you again."
His smile was soft and absolutely certain.
"Ravel," he said. "Let me carve tonight into your soul as something good. Something that says, 'I chose this. I chose him.' Not because you were pushed, or traded, or cornered. But because you wanted to."
Her throat worked.
"…You're really… unfair," she whispered.
"I know," he said, absolutely unbothered.
She laughed, a shaky little sound that grew steadier as it left her lips.
"Fine," she said. "I'll… choose. For myself."
She straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin. The young lady of the Phenex family, the girl who had once hidden behind her brother's shadow, looked him in the eyes.
"I choose you," she said.
He didn't make her wait.
He leaned in.
Their lips met in a kiss that was slow and deep and unmistakably reverent. Heat flared between them—not the wild blaze of battle, but the focused warmth of a flame that had decided exactly where it wanted to burn.
Her hands curled into his coat.
His arm slid around her waist, anchoring her as the balcony seemed to tilt under the rush of feeling. Rivers of light below them brightened as if in sympathy; one of his distant Fate Palaces flickered, registering the new line in her Dao.
Inside her Soul Palace, the nascent structure shuddered, then firmed. A new line of law etched itself along the inner wall like a promise.
When they finally parted, both of them a little breathless, she rested her forehead against his.
"…Carved," she murmured.
He smiled.
"Good," he said. "That's the point."