[You propose cooperating with the Foreign God, because you know she still has a long time before she can truly carry out her plan.]
[Perhaps she is currently elsewhere—or perhaps she has found "value" in you. In the end, she agrees, leaving behind a seed. If you need anything, you can contact her at any time through that special seed.]
[You obtained a special item: Foreign God's Seed.]
[The holder does not need incantations. By focusing their mind on the "seed," they can project their consciousness into the Foreign God's spirit world across physical distance.]
[After handing over the seed, the Foreign God stares at you before finally leaving. You are still "too weak." Fighting you would mean becoming enemies of two Beasts, and the two major Counter Forces would target her. She must act cautiously.]
After the Foreign God left, the dark clouds quietly dispersed. The magical barrier she had laid to isolate the aftermath shattered in silence.
Soft moonlight fell.
A ribbon of sand slowly spread across his palm—forming a droplet-shaped seed, made of pure obsidian and stardust, with tiny lights glittering within.
Even in his hand, Izaya could feel a faint pulse, like a heartbeat.
[After collecting the seed, you turn and melt into the night.]
[In less than ten minutes, you return to the tent near the epicenter of the Tunguska explosion, where candlelight trembles faintly.]
[You fought the Foreign God for nearly two hours—yet you still return home on time, as you always do… Yes. For you in this era, this is home.]
[It isn't hard to imagine how uneasy Koyanskaya would be after you were late for so long.]
[You tidy your disheveled hair and ride Pegasus straight into the tent.]
[The moment you step inside, you see an elegant figure in pink. Fearing you might vanish, she rushes forward and hugs you tightly.]
[After confirming you aren't an illusion, she releases you, checks you for injuries, and asks why you're back so late.]
[You don't hide anything. You explain the Foreign God incident in full.]
…
The candles burned bright.
Their wavering light reflected off Koyanskaya's troubled, uncertain face. The once alluring, passionate expression had cooled.
"The Foreign God…"
Since birth, she had known there was a third "Beast" on this land.
And she'd vaguely felt the Foreign God might be interested in Izaya.
Even so, she hadn't expected the Foreign God to attack directly—nor to pre-cast a barrier to block the battle's ripples.
Then she noticed the young man staring at her, and she had to look away, slightly awkward.
"What?" she asked. "Is there something on my face?"
Izaya smiled, studying her beautiful profile from top to bottom, then shook his head with a soft laugh.
"Nothing. I just didn't expect you to be this angry… It feels completely unlike you."
The Beast of Cherishment was born to despise humanity—an existence that would use any means to achieve its goal. In her eyes there was only "interest," and no true "allies."
But perhaps at this stage—still in "infancy"—she was purer than she would be later.
Hearing that, even Koyanskaya froze.
Indeed…
As the Beast destined to trample the future of humankind—why would she be so furious and worried over a mere human being?
Especially when he was technically a captive…
Watching her long, shaken silence, Izaya spoke carefully, word by word.
"But I'm very happy, Koyanskaya."
"Happy…?" She looked confused.
"Because you get upset because of me. That means you care about me."
The black-haired man said it with a smile.
The sudden straight shot made her meticulously made-up, beautiful face flush. When she met his gentle gaze, she couldn't help the joy rising in her eyes.
But she quickly exhaled, as if refusing to show weakness.
She adopted a cold tone.
"Say what you want. You're mine. That woman meddling in my territory is a provocation."
"If she comes again, you must find a way to inform me."
"If I hadn't been strict enough this time, you might have died."
At the end, her gaze turned grave.
Izaya smiled and nodded.
Koyanskaya caressed his cheek. Her voice softened suddenly.
"I can feel my control over this land growing stronger. Soon… soon I'll swallow my other self and ascend into a complete Beast."
"Wait for that time… As long as you are in this domain, no one will ever think of attacking you again."
Then she paused, and continued more quietly.
"But… I'm sorry the original plan won't change."
She was the Beast given the name "Koyanskaya" by the man before her.
But she was also the aggregate resentment of non-human lives carved apart by humanity on this planet.
To abandon the original plan for selfish desire…
That could never be permitted.
She secretly watched him for disappointment, for dissatisfaction.
But his face showed none.
Izaya still smiled.
"I told you before… no matter what, I respect your decision."
Sensing the sincerity in his words, Koyanskaya's expression softened at once.
She hesitated, then asked:
"Recently, you seem… rather close to the Beast of Cherishment. If in the future you 'eat' her… would you hesitate?"
Izaya shook his head.
"A Beast's promotion requires enough 'energy.' The situation is harsh. Survival of the fittest is survival of the fittest… you think so too, don't you?"
Koyanskaya fell silent.
Yet for some reason, his calm response stirred an indescribable unease in her heart.
In the dim candlelight, she stared at the man, her eyes shining.
"Sajyou Izaya…"
"Hm?"
"You won't leave me behind… right?"
Tension spread in her chest. Her pale fingertips combed through her pink hair, trembling faintly.
Izaya blinked in surprise, then smiled and shook his head.
"Of course not."
He wrapped his arms gently around the waist of the pink-haired royal sister, looked down at her moist, hooked eyes and slightly anxious expression, and spoke softly:
"Don't worry. Don't worry…"
"Until this heart stops completely, I'll always be with you."
Snap.
A raindrop hit the floor.
Then thunder rolled, and the rain began to pour, lightning rumbling in the clouds.
It was Siberia's first rain in three months.
Izaya looked outside the tent and murmured, "It's raining… I'll sleep well tonight."
"You like rainy days?" she asked.
"Because they make me feel safe."
Izaya smiled. "I heard it's because our ancestors lived in caves. Animals don't come out in the rain, so humans slept better on rainy days."
"Human genetics, huh?" Koyanskaya chuckled, staring dreamily at the curtain of rain.
"You like rainy days too?" Izaya suddenly asked.
She glanced at him, the corners of her lips lifting slightly.
"I like them very much~"
…
Nevada, Area 51.
NFF Services.
On the surface, it was a company with consulting, logistics, and security businesses. In truth, it was a global arms dealer—an enormous multinational enterprise Koyanskaya used to accumulate power, collect intelligence, and pursue her goals.
Pea-sized raindrops hammered the glass. Neon lights beyond the window blurred in the wash of rain—beautiful, hazy, unreal behind the heavy curtain.
Inside the office, Koyanskaya sat sideways on a leather sofa by the window.
She wore a perfectly tailored silk shirt. In the dim light, her skin glowed softly.
A whiskey glass rested in her hand. The liquor swirled unconsciously, ice clinking and rippling like liquid gold.
She wasn't reading documents.
She was simply… spacing out.
"Chairwoman," the neatly dressed secretary reported, holding a folder to her chest, head slightly bowed. "Following your instructions, we have arranged a preliminary meeting with Lord Marisbury Animusphere of the Clock Tower's Department of Astronomy. We will depart for the Clock Tower in one week."
The boss lady before her was impossible to read—usually approachable, almost casual with subordinates. But if you spoke improperly or offended her authority, the consequences could be catastrophic.
Truly: accompanying a king is like accompanying a tiger.
Yet after the report, the chairwoman didn't reply.
After nearly thirty minutes of waiting, the secretary finally couldn't bear it and called carefully, "…Chairwoman?"
"I know," Koyanskaya answered, as if waking from a trance.
The secretary murmured without thinking, "You seem to like rainy days."
Nevada was one of the driest states in America; rainfall was rare.
But whenever it rained, the chairwoman often sat alone like this, staring out the window.
Koyanskaya took a sip of whiskey, letting the spicy warmth spread across her tongue.
She watched the rain and said softly:
"I hate rainy days the most."
…