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Adrián arrived at Kuoh University on Monday at 1:30 in the afternoon, officially having missed the morning class but arriving in time for the last one.
He didn’t arrive walking. He arrived in a black car with tinted windows that Rhea had lent him "so you don’t draw attention," which Adrián pointed out was deeply counterproductive considering he had never once in his life arrived at university in a black car with a driver. The driver—a demonic familiar of human appearance, his tail very discreetly hidden beneath his clothes—dropped him off two blocks from campus and told him, with perfect neutrality:
"When the mistress calls me, I’ll come for you, young master."
"You can call me Adrián."
"I can’t, young master."
"Right. Okay."
The driver left.
Adrián stood on the sidewalk with his backpack hanging from one shoulder. The sun hit him head-on. The clothes he was wearing were his own—he’d found them that morning washed, ironed, and hanging in the closet of his new room, which made him wonder who had gone to his apartment to get them, and he decided, for the umpteenth time that day, not to ask.
He ran a hand through his hair. Breathed.
Okay. Everything normal.
I’m an ordinary university student. Like anyone else. Who was dead last night. And is now a demon with a mask on his soul. And an assigned seatmate who turned out to be the sister of the demonic master who reincarnated me.
Completely normal.
Walk.
He walked.
Crossed the campus gates like nothing was different. Nodded at two people he vaguely recognized. Noticed, with a small part of his brain that was already starting to adjust to his new nature, that he could hear conversations three meters farther away than he should, and that the smell of coffee from the cafeteria in the building next door reached him with an intensity it never had before.
Enhanced senses. Okay. Noted.
He reached the central courtyard.
And there, exactly on the usual bench—next to the big tree, in the same spot as last Thursday—sat Yuki Amasawa.
Sitting very straight.
Her hands resting on her knees.
With an expression that took Adrián exactly three steps to identify as "I’ve been rehearsing this conversation for six hours and I’m as nervous as a final exam."
He walked toward her with the exact feeling of a man approaching a gallows with the worst of intentions.
"Hey," he said, sitting down next to her.
Yuki didn’t look at him.
"Hey."
"..."
"..."
"Yuki."
"Yeah?"
"I know you’re angry. I know I owe you an explanation. I know I didn’t call you back yesterday like I said I would, and I know I didn’t go to class this morning, and I know you probably went by my apartment looking for me and I wasn’t there."
Yuki said nothing. Kept staring straight ahead.
"And I know there’s no explanation I can give you right now that’s entirely true, or entirely false, or entirely fair. But I need you to believe just one thing, even if I don’t tell you the rest. Okay?"
Yuki swallowed.
"Okay."
"I’m fine. I’m alive. Nothing bad happened to me. I didn’t get into drugs. I’m not running from anyone. I’m not sick."
"..."
"And I’m not lying about any of that."
Silence.
Yuki finally turned her head. Looked at his profile. Then straight on. Then she put a hand on his cheek—a small, warm hand, her fingers trembling very slightly—and looked at his face with the attention of someone searching for an invisible mark.
Adrián didn’t move.
After a long moment, Yuki lowered her hand.
"I believe you," she said quietly.
"Yuki—"
"I don’t fully believe you. I think you’re hiding something huge from me. But I believe the important part. That you’re okay."
"...thanks."
"Are you going to tell me someday?"
Adrián hesitated.
"I don’t know. I hope so. Maybe. Not now."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay, Adri. I can wait. I’ve waited for you through a lot of things. One more won’t kill me."
Adrián felt something squeeze his chest in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. He looked at Yuki. Yuki smiled a very small smile. Looked forward.
And then, with all the casualness in the world, her voice carefully studied to sound like she was commenting on the weather:
"Adri."
"Yeah?"
"Do you remember a few days ago when you told me there was a girl helping you investigate Elena’s disappearance?"
Adrián went very still.
Ah.
Ah, shit.
Sariel.
Yuki wasn’t looking at him. She was looking ahead. With the same hands on the same knees.
"...yeah," Adrián said carefully. "I remember."
"Are you dating her?"
Silence.
Adrián breathed.
Closed his eyes for a second.
Opened them again.
"No."
"..."
"No, Yuki. I’m not dating her. In fact..." he chose his words with surgical precision. "In fact, I don’t ever want to talk about that girl again. Nothing. Not about her, not about what I was doing with her, not about the time I spent with her. Never. Pretend she never existed. And if you’re okay with that, I’m going to pretend she never existed too. Can we do that?"
Yuki turned her head to look at him.
Her honey-colored eyes opened a little wider than normal. Studied his face. Looked for a lie. Looked for a trap. Looked for a double meaning.
She found none.
She found, instead, something much rarer: sincerity.
"...okay," she said, very quietly. "Okay, Adri."
"Thank you."
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah."
"Are you really okay?"
"I’m really okay. Now I am."
Yuki nodded slowly. Then, very shyly, her cheeks starting to color, she added:
"Okay. Then everything’s fine."
"Everything’s fine."
"Everything’s fine."
Silence.
They sat there for a while, side by side, the midday sun falling on their knees, the birds in the central garden fighting over crumbs in the grass, two students animatedly discussing an exam result ten meters away.
After a moment, Adrián ran a hand over the back of his neck.
"Yuki."
"Yeah?"
"Did you bring bento?"
Yuki looked at him.
Then she smiled at him with a smile that lit up her entire face—a real smile, unfiltered, the smile of a girl who’d spent all morning rehearsing ways to be angry with him and had just been officially released from that obligation by verbal decree.
She reached into her backpack. Pulled out a container.
An enormous container.
"I brought two," she said, with the satisfaction of a general who’d anticipated all variants of the battle. "One for you, one for me. Extra of everything because I assumed you hadn’t had breakfast."
"I did have breakfast."
"Extra of everything anyway."
She extended the container with both hands.
Adrián took it. Opened it.
Perfectly cooked white rice. Teriyaki chicken. Sautéed vegetables. Two onigiri. A portion of rolled omelet. A slice of orange for dessert.
Yuki is Yuki, Adrián thought, with a warmth that rose through his chest unexpectedly. No matter how many times I hurt her without meaning to, she always brings two containers.
He picked up the chopsticks she’d passed him. Positioned them over an onigiri.
And at the exact moment he was about to take the first bite, he heard, from somewhere behind him, a very familiar and very cheerful voice:
"BRO-IN-LAW!"
Adrián closed his eyes.
Oh, no.
Oh no oh no oh no.
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