Narrator POV.
Makima remained seated on the floor with absolute calm, as if she were resting on a clean carpet instead of sitting in the middle of a bloodbath.
Meanwhile, Denji—still dazed from the absurd amount of blood he had lost after transforming for the first time—could barely focus on anything other than how soft and warm Makima's lap felt. To him, that simple gesture already felt like touching heaven itself.
And for the first time in his life, a bright idea formed in his mind: a new life. Three meals a day. A roof over his head. A stable job. For Denji, this wasn't just an opportunity… it was an impossible dream made real.
—Aren't you coming out? Or do you want me to come get you? —Makima's voice cut through the air gently as her yellow eyes slowly turned toward the shadows where Isagi was trying to hide.
Her tone remained soft and kind, so calm that any normal person would have let their guard down. But Isagi knew far too well the true danger hiding behind that tranquility. To him, that voice felt like an invisible hand tightening around his neck.
(The escape is screwed…) —he thought with a mix of resignation and internal cursing, feeling his shoulders slump in defeat. Retreat stopped being an option instantly.
—(Well… I am human, so I don't really have anything to fear… in theory.)
He sighed to himself and finally stepped out from the shadows, hands tucked into his pockets as if nothing were wrong.
His expression was the very definition of bored—half-asleep, zero interest on his face… though only he knew that inside he was scared shitless, his heart pounding like a drum.
—Mmmm… what's your name? —Makima asked when she saw him reveal himself. Her gaze lifted toward him with that unsettling serenity, and a nearly imperceptible smile formed on her lips.
The scent she picked up from Isagi caught her by surprise. It wasn't unpleasant at all. In fact, compared to the smell of any human she had known before, his was better—stronger, more appealing to devils, more… interesting.
After all, Makima didn't remember faces. She remembered smells. And Isagi's was not one she would forget.
—Isagi Fushiguro, son of the supreme wage slave. —he replied with a faint smile, using humor as always to handle the situation.
—Mmm. —Makima hummed softly upon hearing the name, as if savoring it.
She had heard that name before. A supposed civilian devil hunter who, according to several reports, had been doing the work of Public Safety hunters without officially belonging to them.
A young man who acted on his own—but who got results. Perhaps he had talent… and talent like that could become hers. A useful tool for the future. A promising piece that could fit neatly onto the board Makima was arranging in her mind.
A small smile formed on her lips as she mentally adjusted her plans. Perhaps that "civilian" was closer to belonging to her than he realized.
With her usual calm, she spoke:
—Would you be interested in joining Public Safety? You already do the work of a government devil hunter… but you don't get paid like one. Don't you think that's a bit… unfair?
—Mmm. —Isagi thought about it for only a second. She was right. He was doing the work of an official hunter… without getting paid.
And his hard-working blood could not—should not—allow such an atrocity. Money was money, and money did buy happiness. Anyone who said otherwise… Isagi would gladly slap them a couple of times to shut them up.
—Alright, I'll take the job. —he replied with a confident, easy smile.
Now, why didn't Isagi try to run or escape?
Simple. It would have been pointless. Trying something like that would only draw more of Makima's attention—and that would be worse. Much worse.
Makima was the Control Devil. She could manipulate almost any living thing, even animals. She could see through their eyes as if they were personal cameras. And that… that was terrifying.
Imagine being at home, relaxed… and suddenly a rat on your window just stares straight at you. That rat could be Makima watching you. Breathing with you. Following you.
And with a single thought from her… you would belong to her too.
.
.
.
.
.
(This couldn't get any worse…) Isagi thought, sitting slightly stiff in the back seat of the car—right next to Makima, to his own terrible luck.
Makima calmly gazed out the window, maintaining that elegant, cold posture that only made Isagi sweat more from sheer nerves. Yes, from the outside he might look like an idiot—but that didn't mean he was careless or ignorant.
He would not underestimate the Control Devil sitting beside him in the form of a beautiful red-haired woman.
(I need to be careful… though maybe the Player's Mind gives me some resistance to mind-control abilities.) —Isagi thought, doing his best to appear relaxed. He wouldn't let his thoughts show in his posture.
As the car drove down the road toward the city, Isagi loosened his stance slightly. He had to act calm. Everything would be fine.
A few seats away, Denji stared at Makima with hearts practically in his eyes—completely in love. Everything was going "fine"… until his stomach growled with near-demonic ferocity.
Grrrrrrr…
The sound echoed through the car like thunder in a church. Denji felt embarrassment crawl up his spine. There he was, sitting next to a stunning red-haired woman who had saved him… and now his body decided to ask for food!?
—Sorry… that was my stomach —Denji said sheepishly, placing his hands over it.
Makima shifted her gaze from the window toward him. She rested her head on one hand, wearing a soft, almost hypnotic smile.
—And you? What's your name?
—My name's Denji —he replied eagerly. It was the first time such a pretty girl had ever talked to him.
Makima tilted her head slightly. Her smile changed—just a little, but enough to chill anyone who truly understood who she was.
And the only one who did understand… was Isagi.
So he subtly shifted a few centimeters away, adopting an even more careless-looking posture.
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End of the chapter.