It wasn't just any day.
It was the first time in weeks that Zevion wasn't by our side.
No, he didn't die or vanish into some apocalyptic mess like he usually manages to attract — he simply left.
A short trip, he'd said.
Three days, maybe four.
Five at most.
He left this morning, suitcase in hand, half-asleep, muttering something about "finally escaping the madness."
As soon as Zevion left, the atmosphere in Kuoh Academy shifted, like a subtle change in the weather.
The air felt heavy, the silence oppressive, like a weight had been lifted from the world, only to reveal a new, unfamiliar landscape.
Even the others seemed restless, their usual banter and jokes replaced by a palpable sense of unease.
The girls who normally bickered with him, teased him, or followed his harebrained schemes now stood at the window, lost in thought.
There was this unspoken heaviness between us — a mix of boredom and yearning that no one dared to admit aloud.
Of course, I wasn't immune either.
Zevion was… well, Zevion.
A human, a species I'd once been a part of before my transformation and joining Sona's peerage.
I'd never harbored any particular animosity towards humans.
But I didn't care for them either.
Humans were fragile, self-centered, and loud – qualities that made them vulnerable to the whims of the stronger.
And yet, Zevion had somehow managed to win over the hearts of devils, holy maidens, exorcists, and even the enigmatic cat girls.
Before joining Sona's peerage, I'd been shunned by my own clan for possessing a power they deemed impure or evil.
A trait that set me apart from my own kind, making me an outsider among my own clan.
When I first met Zevion, a human who seemed so out of place among the powerful beings surrounding him, I expected him to collapse under the pressure.
But to my surprise, he didn't.
He stood there, a wide grin spreading across his face, as if nothing could ruffle his feathers.
He's fragile, a fact that should have made him an easy target in this world.
There's no denying it — even with that monstrous summon of his, as a human alone, he's fragile.
And yet… something is captivating about the way he lives.
Spending time with him made me feel like I was living in the moment, like nothing else mattered.
He laughs loudly, fights recklessly, and says the most ridiculous things imaginable — but he also listens, understands, and somehow makes you feel like you belong.
When he mentions family or talks about us, his expression becomes more gentle and affectionate.
His tone turns serious, almost gentle.
It's one of the few times he drops that childish mask.
And for a moment, you forget that he's supposed to be just a weak human in a world full of devils and gods.
He's an idiot — but a sincere one.
And that's why everyone, even the most stubborn among us, can't help but be drawn to him.
Still… there's one thing that's been bothering me lately.
Sona.
The condition she'd set for marriage still stood: if Zevion wanted to win her hand, he'd have to defeat her in chess.
Yes — in chess.
She'd devised the rule to deter unwanted suitors, but it had become a challenge she relished.
"If someone can defeat me in chess," she had said, "then they'll have proven their worth."
It worked perfectly at first.
No one could outmatch her intellect.
No one could get close.
But now, the one man she actually loves is trapped by that very rule.
Sometimes I wonder if Sona is truly a genius or just another kind of fool.
I sighed, leaning back in my chair as I glanced toward her.
She sat behind her desk, glasses glinting in the sunlight, papers perfectly aligned.
Calm.
Composed.
But I could see through it — the faint restlessness in her fingers, the way her gaze drifted to the door where Zevion usually barges in.
Yes, a normal door of the room, but she could only link it to him.
After all, I feel the same as well.
She missed him, too.
Honestly, who wouldn't?
And now that I think about it, I'm probably the only one who didn't get to spend much time with him this week.
Figures.
"Ugh…" I groaned under my breath.
"It's already so boring without seeing him, and he's only been gone for a few hours."
Out of sheer mischief — and maybe a bit of curiosity — I turned to Sona.
"President, look! Zevion!"
Her head snapped up instantly, eyes bright.
For a split second, she actually believed me.
"…I was joking, President," I said, suppressing a chuckle.
"By the way, those two from church—"
Changing the subject quickly was another trick I learned from Zevion himself.
If you think you're about to get yelled at, either keep attacking or divert the topic completely.
I'm not as suicidal as him, so I went for the second option.
Sona's lips twitched, but she let it slide, turning her gaze toward the window.
Outside, two girls with faint holy auras walked past the courtyard — their presence distinct even from here.
"Yes," she said softly, adjusting her glasses.
"They're holy sword users. Excalibur users at that. Their mission must be serious if both of them are here."
Her tone dropped — calm, but edged with authority.
"Tsubaki, even if they refuse cooperation, stay alert. Something about this feels… off."
"I will, President," I replied, matching her tone.
Sona sighed, resting her chin on her hands.
"They said fragments of Excalibur were stolen. For someone to steal the Church's most sacred weapon… it means we're dealing with an opponent powerful enough to shake a whole faction. If this isn't contained properly, it could escalate into another Great War."
I swallowed hard.
"That serious, huh?"
She nodded.
"If needed, I'll contact my sister. I'd rather not, but the risk is too high to ignore."
A moment of silence settled between us, broken only by the faint ticking of the clock.
"Still," I said, trying to lighten the mood, "isn't it a good thing that one of them, Irina, knows Zevion? That should help, right?"
Sona frowned slightly.
"Not necessarily. People twist facts to fit the version of the truth they want. Even if both of them speak honestly, others can interpret it however they please. Without Zevion here to defend himself, that could become… problematic."
"Then maybe letting them wander freely wasn't the best idea?"
I asked.
"Perhaps not," Sona admitted, "but forcing them would have caused unnecessary conflict. Xenovia, especially — she only tolerates us because of Zevion. Without him here, things could change quickly."
I sighed.
"Looks like our peaceful days are numbered."
"Maybe," Sona said, then smiled faintly.
"But let's handle this before he comes back. He's such a worrywart sometimes. I'm sure Rias and her group are thinking the same."
"Then we'll talk with them tomorrow," I said, standing up.
Sona nodded, but then her expression changed — a glint of amusement behind those calculating eyes.
"Oh, and Tsubaki."
"Yes, President?"
She slid a tall stack of documents across her desk toward me.
"Don't think I forgot your little joke earlier. If you have time to tease me, you have time to finish these."
I stared blankly at the tower of paperwork.
"…President…"
She sipped her tea with the faintest hint of a smirk.
"Consider it punishment. Or… practice."
I groaned, slumping into my chair as I eyed the endless stack of forms.
Looks like Zevion's bad habits are contagious after all.
And honestly… maybe I didn't mind that.
... Of course, that's a lie.
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