Seeing Kouhei standing there like that—calm, composed, and yet somehow distant—Yui's gaze hardened. A frosty sharpness returned to her eyes, cold enough to cut.
"You've become something... I didn't expect, senpai," she muttered, her voice laced with a chill that wasn't there before. Her eyes didn't blink, her tone was level, but her heart was uneasy. "I don't think I've ever felt this kind of thing because of someone."
Kouhei simply looked back at her, calm yet uncertain. "I think you're giving me more credit than I actually deserve. I'm not that special."
"But you are." Yui's voice lowered, her tone carried something between admiration and irritation. "And that's exactly what makes it interesting to me."
She took a step forward, the cold air between them humming with strange tension.
"But seeing you ... acting this way... it pisses me off so much. I wonder why that is?"
Her emotions were boiling beneath the surface, far from anything shallow or easily explained. She wasn't just annoyed. No, it went deeper than that. Much deeper.
She felt like she was standing in a fog—unable to place her exact emotions, unable to define what she was experiencing. She tried to find a label for it—tried thinking it was envy, or maybe jealousy—but even those emotions felt inadequate. They didn't come close to what was surging within her.
This feeling... couldn't be written off as something so ordinary.
'I love you, Okumura-senpai. I think... I think I love you more than I've ever admitted to myself. So why? Why won't you look at me the way you look at her? Do you think just because I'm a fallen angel, I can't fall in love? That I'm incapable of something so... human?'
The words echoed inside her—but they weren't spoken. Not even thought in the way most people thought.
She wasn't aware she was thinking that. Not consciously.
No, it wasn't unconscious either. Because if it were, she would've caught it—felt the flicker of emotion and questioned it.
But this… this was different.
It was as if her own mind had disconnected from her core being. Like her thoughts were moving on their own, detached from her awareness. She didn't even know she was thinking it—because even her thoughts were acting in rebellion against her.
Maybe she was forcing the feelings down on purpose—burying them deep and locking them away—because acknowledging them would be too much.
Falling in love with someone she was supposed to use, someone she helped, someone she once preyed upon...
That wasn't love. That was pathetic. That was dangerous.
If she really was falling in love with Kouhei, then it was no different from someone falling for their plaything. It was grotesque. Twisted.
It would be like someone falling in love with a doll. No... like someone who suffered from agalmatophilia—a sick obsession with an object that could never return feelings.
So she refused to accept it.
She pushed it away. Over and over.
But her heart kept pulling it back in.
And Kouhei, now fused with the mana of a Primordial Succubus, could see it clearly. He didn't need words or expressions—he could feel it.
Because right now, he had activated Empath, the innate power of a Primordial Succubus that let him read the real emotions of others. He saw through facades, past pretenses, right into the soul.
He didn't use it often. In fact, Kouhei made it a rule to only activate Empath when absolutely necessary.
People deserved their privacy. Their thoughts. Their secrets. Using Empath recklessly would be like peeking into someone's diary while they were still writing it—an act far too invasive, far too voyeuristic.
But there were times when the need outweighed the respect. And this... this was one of those times.
"Okumura-senpai..." Yui's voice cut through, sharp and cold. Her expression didn't change, but her eyes narrowed. "It's rude to try and look into someone's heart without permission, you know?"
She must've felt it—him digging deeper, trying to read what she herself couldn't even understand.
"I just want to know something," Kouhei replied calmly, unwavering. "I want to understand... why you won't help me."
"Isn't it obvious already?" Yui snapped. "It's so basic, so in-your-face obvious that it could bite you in the neck if you're not looking. I can't help you. Not because I don't want to. Not because I hate you. I just don't desire it. It's that simple."
Her words were cold, but her tone wavered just slightly—like a tremor hiding beneath layers of steel.
"So then..." Kouhei stepped forward, meeting her gaze. "Why do I feel like you're calling out to me?"
Yui's head tilted slightly, her brows pinching in confusion. She looked genuinely caught off guard.
"...What do you mean by that, senpai?" she asked, her voice lower now. Her long hair swayed slightly from the motion, a few strands brushing across her face.
"The moment I came back—after I was revived—I felt it," Kouhei said. "I felt you calling to me. Reaching out. That's why I sought you out."
For a moment, Yui just stood there, blinking at him with a dumbfounded expression. Then suddenly—
She burst into laughter. Loud, real laughter that echoed through the air like a slap to the face.
"T-This is...! You've seriously become a narcissist after your resurrection, senpai!" she choked out between fits of laughter. "You really think... that just because we bonded in the subconscious world—and I helped you get revived—that I would be the one seeking you out?"
She bent slightly, holding her stomach, shaking from how hard she was laughing.
"LOL! It's too funny, senpai! I swear—I can't stop laughing!"
It wasn't just a giggle. It was the kind of laugh that came from deep within—the kind used to hide something. To mock. To deflect.
But even so, Kouhei didn't flinch.
"You can laugh all you want. Twist the words however you like," he said quietly, but firmly. "I can feel your mana calling out to me. Your mana... it's inside me now. And because of that, I know it. I feel you."
His words hit her like a slap.
The laughter stopped.
And her expression turned ice cold.
"Senpai... seriously." Her voice was low, almost emotionless now. "It was funny at first. But if you keep repeating the same joke..." she leaned in slightly, her eyes narrowing, "it's not going to be funny anymore."
"I'm very serious about this," Kouhei said, his voice steady, every word laced with quiet determination. His eyes didn't waver as they locked onto hers.
"Really?" Yui replied, narrowing her eyes as a slow, dangerous smile curved across her lips. "Because right now, I'm getting more pissed off at you than anything else."
She extended her hand outward with a sharp motion, and in an instant, a sword of radiant light manifested in her palm. The air around it shimmered and cracked faintly, reacting to the divine pressure of the weapon. Its glow pulsed with restrained power, humming low like it was alive.
"And honestly..." she continued, tilting her head ever so slightly, "I feel like slicing you in half right now."
Kouhei's breath caught in his throat. For a second, he froze. But then, he stared into her eyes again and realized she wasn't bluffing. Not in the slightest.
She meant every word.
So he tightened his stance, feet shifting subtly on the ground as he instinctively readied himself.
He had no weapon at all.
He was completely unarmed—both defenseless and offenseless, standing before someone who could erase him in an instant.
He hadn't come here expecting this. A fight between him and Yui was never part of the equation.
"There's no point in doing this," Kouhei said, voice calm.
"Oh, I think you're wrong," Yui shot back with narrowed eyes. "There is a point to this."
She took a step forward, the glow of her sword intensifying with the movement.
"If you manage to defeat me, then maybe I'll gladly consider your offer," she said, the words sharp and deliberate. "But if not? Then do yourself a favor and get your head out of the gutter."
Her voice wasn't angry. It was cold.
Kouhei swallowed hard. A dry gulp slid down his throat as he kept his eyes locked on her. It felt like the air was getting heavier and denser.
Like he was about to go up against something ancient. Something terrifying.
Which... might not be far from the truth.
He remembered what the angels had said back in the subconscious world—about Yui. About who she really was.
A first-generation angel.
One of the original few created at the beginning of everything.
The kind of being that even the higher-ranked angels feared to speak openly about. Whenever her name came up, their voices would lower. Their gazes would avoid contact.
They were afraid of her.
And now, here she stood, radiant and furious, sword in hand, power crackling around her like she was on the verge of becoming something unholy.
"I want to understand you more, Himeno-san," Kouhei said, not backing down despite the pressure choking the space between them. "I want to see the real you. I want to know… the person you were as you were falling—to become a fallen angel."
Not the divine being she was before the fall.
Not the shadow she became after it.
But that version of her—the moment she lost her wings, her innocence, as well as her everything.
Because that was the raw truth of her existence.
"You sound annoying, senpai..." Yui muttered, her voice flat and emotionless. But her grip on the sword tightened.
"Well," Kouhei exhaled with a small, tired smile, "maybe I've gotten a little better at talking."
He could feel the weight of the situation crushing down on him, but still—he stood tall. His hands clenched, his feet steady, even if there was no weapon in them.
This battle wasn't necessary. He knew that.
If he wanted to reach her—to truly know her—he had to fight.
Even if he had nothing to fight with.
Even if it was hopeless.
And so, without another word, Kouhei dashed forward, throwing himself into the unknown with nothing but the will to understand the woman before him.