Gabriel stared at her directly, his expression flat.
"Handing Lady Sith's responsibility over to someone else."
Sith's smile widened—bright, satisfied.
Her face drew closer. Too close. Her lips hovered between Gabriel's ear and neck.
Her breath was warm. Her intent cold.
"Strange…" she whispered softly, almost like a small laugh swallowed. "You know it's wrong."
A pause.
"But you still let it happen."
The tip of her finger pressed lightly against Gabriel's chest—right over his heart.
"So why, hm?" her voice sweet, teasing. "You enjoy being punished, don't you?"
Her smile didn't fade. If anything, it became even more beautiful.
"Alright," she continued softly, "this kind-hearted Sith will give it to you."
The next instant, her fangs pierced the skin of Gabriel's neck.
Warm blood trickled slowly—drawn in, consumed—leaving a soft exhale against his skin, a stark contrast to the cold air around them.
Gabriel didn't feel any pain.
Instead, his face flushed. Not from the wound—but because he had never truly gotten used to this kind of closeness.
A moment later, Sith pulled away.
The tip of her tongue swept the remaining blood from her lips before the wound on Gabriel's neck quickly healed thanks to his regeneration, leaving only a damp mark that soon faded.
Sith wiped the corner of her mouth with her finger, then—without hesitation—smudged it on Gabriel's white clothing.
A casual gesture. Deliberate.
"Your blood never tastes bland," she said lightly, as if assessing a fine wine. "Such a waste if it went to nothing. You should be grateful, Lowly Prey."
She turned away just like that.
"Oh, right," she added, as if suddenly remembering some trivial matter. "The fifth block in this alley has a drink stall I like. Buy it. Don't take too long."
Her steps carried her away.
"I'll be waiting at the clock near the park."
Her tone was light.
As if what just happened… meant nothing at all.
Slowly, the flush on Gabriel's face faded.
The tip of his finger brushed the mark of the bite on his neck for a brief moment—a reflex—before he stepped toward the fifth block of the alley.
His hands fell to his sides.
His steps were calm.
On the busy sidewalk, he passed by a Spirit with striking green hair—Natsumi Kyouno, disguised as an adult woman—without stopping.
Gabriel didn't halt, but his mind was already at work.
"That makes sense… after the Miku route… if the flow stays consistent, next is Natsumi."
He paused in his own thoughts, though his feet kept moving.
"Should I help?"
A faint smirk appeared.
"Then it's just a matter of arranging the scenario. It has to feel natural… and of course, cool. That's mandatory."
He sank deeper into his own planning. Stairs, fountains, shop displays—they all passed by without really registering. Even the ice cream in his hand was half-eaten before he realized he had bought it.
Sith's order? Completely forgotten.
(Note: 🙃)
"Ouch!"
Someone bumped into him.
A girl with long white hair tumbled onto the sidewalk. Her blue blouse and thin jacket were stained with slowly melting ice cream.
"Ah—"
Gabriel snapped fully back to his surroundings.
"You're—"
His words stopped.
Origami Tobiichi.
But different.
Her gaze wasn't as sharp as he remembered. Warmer. More… readable.
Origami from the new timeline. Moegami.
The girl sat still for a few seconds, as if her system needed time to process such a simple incident. Her eyes dropped to the stain on her clothes… then rose to meet Gabriel's face.
Her cheeks flushed slightly.
"I-I'm fine… really…"
Her hand moved stiffly, trying to wipe off the ice cream—clearly only spreading the stain further.
"…It's just ice cream."
Gabriel had already knelt slightly, offering his handkerchief without saying a word.
Moegami took it gently. "Thank you…" she murmured, beginning to clean her clothes carefully, taking it far too seriously for something so trivial.
Meanwhile, something crossed Gabriel's mind.
A possibility.
Not an impulsive idea to "take advantage," but a calculated thought. He could sense the shadow of Origami from the old timeline… and Sephira within this girl.
And Moegami didn't notice. Not yet.
"Alright… it's decided," he murmured softly.
A faint smile formed without him realizing it.
Moegami had just looked up—and caught that expression.
"Uh…" she said hesitantly, holding the handkerchief to her chest. "Is… there something on my face?"
"Nothing at all," Gabriel replied warmly. "Just thinking of something nice."
He stood, raising his right hand halfway, making a small fist like someone who had just hatched a big idea.
"Which is why… I'm going to do it!"
And just like that, he walked off with quick steps—too fast for a conversation that hadn't even properly begun.
Moegami froze.
"…Huh?"
A few seconds later, her gaze fell on the object in her hand.
Her handkerchief.
"Ah—wait!"
She hurriedly stood up, nearly slipping before regaining her balance, and started walking quickly in the direction Gabriel had gone.
"Sorry! Your handkerchief—!"
But the bustling midday crowd swallowed him easily.
People passed by, footsteps echoed, conversations mingled, shop doors opened and closed—but there was no black trench coat, no figure with that strange aura who had just stood before her.
Several minutes passed.
Moegami stopped.
Her breath came in shallow gasps—not from exhaustion, but from a small, inexplicable panic.
She stared at the handkerchief in her hands.
The fabric was slightly crumpled. Stained with ice cream. Somehow, it felt warm—whether from holding it or from the lingering heat of its owner, she couldn't tell.
"…What am I supposed to do now…?" she murmured softly.
Throwing it away felt clearly rude.
Keeping it… felt strange. Too personal for a stranger.
Now she held it with both hands, as if the object were more important than it ought to be.
"…That person… is weird," she whispered, her face flushing slightly again without her realizing it. "But… not scary."
Her gaze drifted toward the street where Gabriel had disappeared.
"…If we meet again… I'll return it properly."
And for some reason, deep in her chest, a small feeling stirred—like an encounter that wasn't quite finished.
***
In front of the clock near the park, Baobhan Sith stood with her head slightly bowed, her teeth biting down on the thumbnail of her right hand.
Her face radiated frustration that was nearly unbearable.
An hour had passed, and Gabriel still hadn't appeared with what he was supposed to bring. The feeling of being toyed with gnawed at her chest.
"Lowly prey…" she murmured, her voice soft yet cold, like the breath of a death angel.
A shadow of Gabriel being trampled and soaked in blood flashed through her mind. But instantly, she pushed it aside—the voice of her mother replayed over and over in her head:
"Don't overdo it."
Indeed, Morgan allowed her to hurt Gabriel, but there was always a limit. And that limit… made her even more frustrated.
"I want to curse him… make his body riddled and soaked in blood!" she muttered quietly, restraining the boiling anger.
Nearby, Bargest stood tall, still holding the boxes of heels Sith had brought.
He watched her calmly, waiting for orders, fully aware that Sith's temper could erupt at any moment.
"Lady Sith," he said softly, "your magical pulses are rising. Your emotions are unstable."
It wasn't a reprimand. More like a status report.
"If you're angry, just give the order. I can find him."
He didn't mention Gabriel's name. There was no need.
Sith huffed softly, her shoulders tensing.
"And what would you do?" she retorted without looking back. "Drag him here like a dog?"
Her tone was sweet.
Too sweet.
"That's not punishment," she continued quietly. "It actually makes him happy. That lowly prey… really is strange."
Her fingers gripped the sleeve of her own clothing, wrinkling the fabric slightly.
"I'm the one giving orders. I'm the one waiting."
A faint smile appeared on her lips, but her eyes remained cold.
"And he who is late…!!!"
Silence enveloped the park, broken only by the soft whisper of the wind.
In an even quieter tone, she added: "…He must have forgotten."
Not just late. Gabriel had truly forgotten. That stung her pride the most.
"I will punish him properly when we get home!" she declared, her sharp tone impossible to hide.
Then Sith raised her right hand halfway, her index finger moving slowly to issue a simple command:
"Let's go home."
Bargest nodded softly, and with Sith leading, the two of them walked away from the park.
***
Night had fallen over Tengu City, cloaking it in darkness.
Inside a room of a large house—or rather, a mansion—Gabriel was bound by magical ropes, hanging upside down, head below and feet above.
Both of his hands were tightly tied as well, leaving his movements to nothing more than awkward wriggles—truly resembling a helpless caterpillar suspended in midair.
In front of him, Baobhan Sith wore her signature smile.
Her outfit was a luxurious and beautiful set of pajamas.
"Ahahaha~" she laughed lightly, yet sharply. "Look at you now, Lowly Prey… you look just like the creature Mother despises the most. Ahahaha."
With a gentle flick of her fingertip, Gabriel's body swung back and forth like a pendulum.
"Lady Sith," Gabriel said flatly, despite the world being upside down in his eyes, "could you please let me down? I have important plans tomorrow."
Sith's laughter gradually faded.
The swinging stopped.
She stepped closer, her heels clicking softly against the bedroom floor.
"Important plans?" she repeated quietly, her smile never fading, only thinning slightly. "You even forgot my orders… and you still dare speak of plans?"
She raised both hands and touched the area around Gabriel's neck, dangling before her.
"You know?" her voice softened, almost like a sweet whisper. Her fingers gripped his neck gently. "I hate you, Lowly Prey."
Slowly, the grip tightened.
"Why is Mother so concerned about you? Why does she always heed your words?" she continued, her tone trembling slightly from restrained emotion. "You've only been with her for three years. Nothing more than that."
___
Author's Note:
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