The silence stretched for a beat too long.
Dante broke it with a smirk that felt like sliding into a familiar jacket. The cocky grin of someone who'd walked into twenty-four gangsters and left twenty-one of them decorating the floor.
"Feast on? Lady, you might want to get your eyes checked. I look like a snack to you?"
The words came out smooth. Easy. His tone said he didn't give a single fuck about her, the room, or the fact that she apparently ate people. Inside, his brain was running at maximum capacity.
She called me a Devil Hunter. So Devil Hunters exist here. They're probably the ones who fight Devils like her. Which means she's used to people coming after her with weapons and contracts and whatever else passes for power in this world.
Play the part. Make her think you're just another cocky asshole with a deathwish.
Raven's head tilted. The movement was slow, serpentine. Her golden eyes tracked over him from head to toe, lingering on details he couldn't identify.
"Cocky little thing, aren't you?" Her voice was honey poured over broken glass. Sweet and dangerous and designed to get under your skin. "Most Devil Hunters at least have the good sense to be afraid when they walk into my club."
"Most Devil Hunters probably didn't wake up in your basement with a headache and shitty tea." Dante shrugged, keeping his posture loose. "But hey, hospitality's dead these days. I get it."
Scarface made a noise that sounded like he wanted to hit Dante again.
Raven raised one elegant hand. The guard went silent.
She moved then. Not walking, exactly. It was more like she flowed across the carpet, each step deliberate and predatory. The kimono shifted with her movements, silk whispering against skin. The red butterflies embroidered on the fabric seemed to flutter in the dim light.
Dante held his ground.
The Six Eyes were going absolutely insane. The crimson haze pouring off her intensified as she approached. It wasn't just visible anymore. He could feel it. A warmth spreading through the air. A pressure building against his skin like the moment before a thunderstorm breaks.
It wanted him to step closer. To lean in. To fall into her orbit like every other poor bastard downstairs.
His mind flashed to Sakiko. Locked in that cell. Waiting to be consumed by this thing wearing a beautiful woman's face.
The rage burned hotter than any supernatural bullshit this Devil could throw at him.
Raven stopped three feet away. Close enough that he could smell her perfume. Something expensive with notes of jasmine and something darker underneath. Her eyes met his, and he saw the vertical pupils contract.
"You're resisting." She said it like someone discovering a new species of insect. Curious. Mildly impressed. "How interesting."
"Resisting what? Your sparkling personality?"
Her lips curved. The smile didn't reach her eyes.
"Most men fall to their knees when I look at them. Pathetic little creatures, so desperate for a taste of what they'll never truly have." One finger traced the edge of her kimono's collar.
"But you're standing there making jokes. Either you're incredibly strong, or gay."
"I've been called worse."
The warmth in the air intensified. Dante felt it pressing against him now. Not physically, exactly. It was like someone had turned up the heat in the room by twenty degrees. His pulse kicked up. His skin flushed.
The Six Eyes showed him what his normal senses couldn't. The crimson energy wasn't just radiating off her anymore. It was reaching for him. Tendrils of it curled through the air like smoke, trying to find purchase on his skin, his mind, his soul.
Gojo's voice in his head: Analysis. Find the pattern. Understand the mechanism.
The energy had a texture. A frequency. It resonated on a wavelength designed to trigger something primal in the human brain. Lust. Desire.
The biological imperative to reproduce wrapped up in supernatural dressing.
But Cursed Energy responded to emotion. Dante's emotions were running hot with protective fury and cold tactical assessment.
The combination created an instinctive shield, his own spiritual pressure pushing back against hers.
He could feel it happening. Like two magnets with the same pole, repelling each other.
Raven's playful expression flickered. Her eyes narrowed.
"You really are something special." Her tone had shifted. "What group are you with? Hayakawa? Kishibe's line? No, you're too pretty to be one of his strays."
"I'm freelance."
"Freelance." She tasted the word like wine. "How refreshingly capitalistic."
She turned away from him, moving back toward the window. The sudden absence of her presence was like someone had opened a door in a stuffy room. Dante's lungs filled with air he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Do you know why I built this place?" Raven didn't look at him. Her eyes tracked the neon sprawl of Shinjuku below.
Dante didn't answer. His gut said she was going to tell him anyway.
"Because humans are so beautifully predictable." She traced one finger down the glass. "They come here seeking pleasure. Escape. A few hours where they can forget about their meaningless jobs, their loveless marriages, their desperate little existences." Her finger tapped the window. "And in return, I take just a little bit. A sip of their life force. A taste of their desire."
The way she said it made his skin crawl.
"Most of them never even notice. They wake up feeling empty, hollow, wondering why nothing satisfies them anymore. But they come back. They always come back." She turned to face him again. "Because I give them exactly what they crave. And that's worth dying for."
"Sounds like a great business model," Dante said.
Raven's laugh was genuine. Rich and dark and utterly lacking in warmth.
"I like you. You have a spine." She moved toward her desk, one hand trailing across the polished wood. "Most Devil Hunters who end up in my club are either drunk, desperate, or trying to play hero. You're none of those things."
She picked up the crystal vase holding the orchid. Turned it in her hands.
"Which makes me wonder what you're really doing here."
Dante's mind raced. The story had holes. She was poking at them.
"I heard rumors about a Devil draining people in Shinjuku. Figured I'd check it out. Didn't realize your security was so good."
"My guards are very thorough." Raven set the vase down. Her eyes slid to Scarface and the nervous kid still flanking Dante. "Speaking of which..."
She walked toward them. The nervous guard's eyes widened. His whole body went rigid.
Raven stopped in front of him. Reached out. Her fingers brushed his cheek with the tenderness of a lover.
"You've been so loyal," she murmured. "So devoted. Watching over my little pets downstairs. Making sure they stay put."
The kid's face flushed red. His breathing went shallow. Dante could see it happening. The poor bastard was drowning in her presence, in whatever supernatural pheromones she was pumping into the air.
"Look at me," Raven whispered.
The guard's eyes locked on hers.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then his skin changed. The healthy tan drained away, replaced by a lifeless grey. The color spread like frost across glass. His eyes glazed over, the pupils still dilated with lust. His mouth hung open mid-breath.
He didn't scream. Didn't struggle. Just froze solid like someone had hit pause on his existence.
Raven stepped back. Ran one finger down the statue's cheek.
"He was always so devoted," she purred.
Holy shit.
Dante's body screamed at him to move, to act, to do something. The Six Eyes had tracked every microsecond of the transformation. He'd seen the energy transfer. Watched the crimson haze pour into the guard's body like water filling a cup. Saw the moment his consciousness just... stopped. Petrified. Locked in a moment of pure, idiotic lust.
This wasn't a power he could block with Infinity. This was metaphysical. Spiritual. It attacked the soul, not the body.
Gojo: Find the condition. Every technique has a requirement.
Sukuna: Kill her before she looks at you.
The two voices warred in his head. Analysis versus annihilation. Strategy versus slaughter.
Scarface had gone pale. His hand drifted toward his jacket, where Dante assumed he kept a weapon.
Raven turned back to Dante. The playful predator was gone. What looked at him now was ancient and inhuman, a creature that had been feeding on human desire for longer than he could imagine.
"Do you understand now?" She gestured to the statue. "That's what happens to men who look at me with lust in their hearts. They freeze. They break. They become very attractive paperweights." Her slit pupils contracted. "And judging by your reactions, you're still breathing, which means you're either immune to my charms or you're very, very good at hiding it."
Dante forced his expression to stay casual. Inside, his mind was screaming.
She needs eye contact. And she needs them to feel lust for her. Those are the conditions. Don't look. Don't want.
"Maybe I'm just not into the whole 'femme fatale who kills people' thing," he said. "Call me picky."
Raven's smile was razor sharp.
"Or maybe you're just smart enough to know that giving in means death." She moved closer again. Not quite as close as before, but enough to make the temperature spike. "That's rare. Most men can't help themselves. Their biology betrays them. But you..."
She circled him slowly. A shark evaluating prey.
"What kind of Devil Hunter are you, I wonder? What contracts do you carry? What devils have you slain?"
Bluff. Keep bluffing.
"The kind who doesn't kiss and tell."
"How disappointing." She stopped in front of him again. "I was hoping for a good story. But you Devil Hunters are all the same. Secrets and scars and stupid nobility." Her expression shifted to something almost bored. "It makes you all taste the same in the end."
Dante's hands clenched. He forced them to relax.
Not happening.
Raven seemed to sense the shift. Her smile widened.
"There it is. The anger. The violence bubbling under that cocky exterior." She leaned in, close enough that he could feel her breath. "You want to kill me. I can taste it."
"You're not exactly subtle with the whole predator vibe."
"Subtlety is overrated." She straightened. Waved one hand dismissively. "Besides, why hide what I am? The men downstairs know I'm dangerous. They pay for the privilege of being consumed. It's all very consensual."
"And the girl in the basement? Was that consensual?"
The words came out harder than he intended.
Raven's expression didn't change, but something flickered in her eyes. Surprise. Recognition.
"Ah. So that's what this is about." She turned away from him, moving back toward the window. "You're not here for me. You're here for her."
Shit.
"You care about the little pet downstairs." Raven's voice was amused now. "The noble Devil Hunter coming to rescue the damsel in distress. It's almost romantic."
She looked back at him over her shoulder.
"Tell me, darling. What's one human girl worth to you? Your life? Your soul?" Her eyes gleamed in the neon light. "Because that's the price. You can walk out of here right now. Leave. Forget you ever saw this place. I won't stop you."
The offer hung in the air.
"But if you try to take her, I'll peel your mind apart piece by piece until you're begging me to turn you into a statue." The playfulness was gone. What remained was pure, cold threat. "She's mine. Bought and paid for. Her father made that choice. And I don't give refunds."
Dante met her gaze. "That's a real touching speech. Did you practice it in the mirror?"
Raven's laugh was sharp as glass.
"You really are something special." She turned fully, arms crossed under her chest. The motion made the kimono shift, revealing more pale skin. "Far too interesting to eat right away. I've grown so bored of the usual screaming and begging."
She moved to her desk. Picked up an ornate wooden box. Opened it. Inside were what looked like antique dice carved from bone.
"First, you'll show me what makes a Devil Hunter like you so special." She rolled the dice between her fingers. "Put on a good show for me. It's the least you can do for ruining my appetite."
She looked past Dante to Scarface.
Gave a lazy, dismissive wave.
"Dispose of him."