Draconis stared at the girl, trying to make sense of her words.
What did she mean, "You can actually see me"?
She looked ordinary enough in her school uniform, but there was a languid grace about her—a mature beauty that made her stand out. Long, slender limbs, a body so perfectly proportioned she could have stepped out of a fashion catalog. Her eyes were deep and serious, her petite face set in a stern expression that gave her an air of authority, a kind of quiet, grown-up allure.
"What do you mean, 'see you'?" Draconis asked, puzzled.
She met his gaze, calm and unblinking. "Just what it sounds like."
"…I can see you perfectly," he replied, though inside, he was unsettled.
Was she a ghost? Maybe his new devil powers let him see things normal people couldn't? Rias and the others never mentioned anything about beautiful female ghosts haunting the city…
"So, other people can't see you?" Draconis pressed, his guard coming up. He'd had enough weird encounters lately to know caution was smart.
She gave a small, resigned nod. "I don't like to admit it, but yes. It doesn't really affect much, but it's annoying."
Her tone was flat, her expression unchanged. She didn't feel threatening—at least, Draconis's devil instincts weren't screaming at him.
"Then maybe you should try our fortune-telling and wish-granting service," he offered, sensing a prime contract opportunity. "Who knows? Maybe we can help."
Something about her nagged at him. Had he seen her before?
She seemed comforted that someone could actually see her. She reached out and accepted the flyer.
"G… What's this? A magic circle? Is this some kind of superstitious scam?"
See? Draconis thought. I knew people would call it superstition.
He snapped back to his sales persona, offering a practiced smile. "Not at all. It's a promo for our club's wish-granting service. Carry one and legend says good luck follows."
"…Occult Research Club," she murmured, reading the flyer. Her eyes flickered with interest. Her condition was practically textbook occult material.
She tucked the flyer away and looked at him. "I'll check it out if I have time. Thanks."
"Really appreciate it," Draconis replied, smiling as she walked off.
She'd gone a few meters when she paused, glanced back, and muttered, "Something about that guy's smile is so fake… Is he some junior from the entertainment industry?"
She disappeared into the crowd, unaware that Draconis heard every word. His devil body had upgraded his senses—he could pick up whispers from hundreds of meters away.
He prided himself on his acting, but apparently, he'd just met a real pro. She'd seen right through him.
Wait… Actress?
Suddenly, it clicked. Draconis glanced up at a nearby building, where a giant screen played an ad. The girl in the commercial smiled sweetly—Mai Sakurajima, the name read beneath.
No wonder she looked familiar. Not just an actress, but a full-blown celebrity.
He'd been outclassed by a master. And she wasn't a ghost, either.
So this world had humans with supernatural quirks, too. Angels, devils, monsters… a few powered-up humans didn't seem so strange.
Draconis shrugged and went back to handing out flyers.
He'd distributed plenty today. Maybe someone would activate a summoning circle and call him over.
He was eager for a contract. After all, devils only got stronger by forging contracts and drawing power from them.
…
When the work was done, Draconis started home.
Walking alone, he thought about Rias and the others' teleportation trick. Akeno had said only higher-ranked devils could use it. At his current rank—the lowest—he was a long way off.
If he could teleport, life would be a lot easier.
But to rank up, he needed contracts. And to get contracts, he had to keep hustling flyers.
He was still just starting out.
He sighed.
Suddenly, his body tensed. His heart skipped a beat—danger.
Devil instincts flared. Something hostile was closing in.
Draconis slowed, eyes narrowing as he scanned the darkened street. Night had fallen, the area deserted, but his devil vision was sharper than ever.
Black feathers drifted down from the sky. A woman with black wings descended, landing lightly on the pavement.
A Fallen Angel.
Draconis frowned, cursing under his breath. So soon?
She'd spotted him first. Her outfit was little more than a few strips of cloth, barely covering anything—seductive, almost cartoonishly so. She was beautiful, but the heavy black eyeshadow gave her a sinister edge.
"Well, well. Didn't expect to find a bottom-feeder like you here. Killing a weakling would be boring—hardly worth dirtying my Light Spear."
Her voice dripped contempt, and the killing intent in her eyes was plain.
The three factions might have signed peace, but old hatreds ran deep. Devils, angels, and fallen angels—most wanted to kill each other on sight.
Draconis wasn't about to take her insults lying down. He smirked, voice low:
"Running into a trashy skank like you this late at night, I can't help but feel my middle finger twitch."
The Fallen Angel stared at him, momentarily speechless.
…
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