The Ferris wheel cabin rose slowly, the soft creak of metal cables blending with the sea breeze that slipped through the cracks. Below them, Yokohama unfolded like a golden carpet of lights, reflecting off the glass windows. From that height the city looked almost unreal, and for a moment Serafall truly felt as though time had stopped.
She pressed her forehead against the cool glass, the chill a pleasant contrast to the warmth blooming in her cheeks.
"It's too beautiful…" she whispered, watching the distant glimmer of boats in the bay.
Kazuya, seated across from her, leaned slightly to the side, following her gaze.
"Yeah. Though I think the view from up here depends a lot on who you ride with."
Serafall turned just enough to glance at him, caught off-guard by the calm tone, yet the little smile tugging at her lips betrayed how much she liked the line.
"Do you say that to every girl?"
"Only the ones who deserve it."
She laughed and shook her head. The red lanterns far below flickered in her eyes, making it seem as though tiny stars were trapped inside them.
"Careful, Kazuya-kun. Keep talking like that and you'll end up spoiling me."
"Wouldn't be the worst of my sins."
A comfortable silence settled in. The breeze made her yukata flutter again, and the distant festival noise felt like it belonged to another, smaller world far beneath them while they drifted in their own pocket of peace suspended in the sky.
Serafall studied her reflection in the glass for a moment, then looked back at him again.
"You know, it's been ages since I last rode one of these."
"Doesn't look like it. Maou Leviathan, the woman who faces god-class armies… afraid of heights?"
She puffed out her cheeks in mock indignation.
"It's not fear, it's lack of opportunity! You think the Underworld has Ferris wheels?"
"Fair point. Serious infrastructure failure."
Serafall laughed, the sound echoing softly inside the cabin. She shifted in her seat, hands folded neatly in her lap.
"When I was younger I really wanted to go to a human festival, you know, fireworks, weird food stalls, rides like this. But back then… well, being a Leviathan came with a very long to-do list. It kept getting pushed to 'later.'"
Kazuya watched her quietly, his gaze calm but attentive.
"And now?"
She blinked. "Now?"
"Now that you finally came. Was it worth the wait?"
Serafall smiled, eyes drifting back to the window where the sea glittered.
"It was." A short pause. "More than I thought it would be."
The wheel kept turning with its gentle, almost hypnotic hum. The light shifted slowly across her face, bathing it in soft gold for a moment, making her look serene and a little distant.
Kazuya leaned back, crossing his legs.
"You're different from what I expected, too."
"Oh?" She tilted her head, amused. "And what did you expect?"
"Someone… more childish."
"Childish? How mean!"
"Yeah. I'd heard you were the cheerful, unpredictable demon lord who's always waving a star wand and talking a mile a minute. But this version…" He gestured lightly with one hand. "Feels more… mature? Like an actual woman."
For a moment Serafall was quiet, her smile softening but not disappearing.
"That's because tonight I didn't have to pretend as much."
Kazuya raised an eyebrow.
"Pretend?"
"To always be the bubbly, playful one. All the time. Sometimes that's just the role people expect me to play." She shrugged, gazing at the glass. "You can't be a magical girl twenty-four hours a day."
He gave a small smile. "Good to know even Maou need days off."
"And you? Do you ever pretend?"
"More than I should."
"I can imagine."
Another easy silence. The cabin reached the very top, and from there the city became an endless sea of light stretching to the horizon. Serafall's breath caught for a second.
"Wow…"
Kazuya watched her reflection instead of the view.
"Pretty impressive."
She noticed, and a faint blush colored her cheeks. She pretended not to, but a tiny smile slipped through anyway.
"You're supposed to look at the scenery, not at me."
"Hard to compete with the view."
Serafall covered her mouth with her hand, trying (and failing) to hide her laugh.
"You say the cheesiest things…"
"Only the truth."
She looked away, resting her chin on her hand. Her voice dropped, almost a whisper.
"You're dangerous, Kazuya-kun."
The wheel began its slow descent, festival lights swirling across the windows again. Far below, the first fireworks cracked open the sky, bursts of color painting the glass.
Serafall leaned her head gently against the seat, watching the display outside. The glow mingled with the wind and the soft sound of the sea.
"It's funny…" she murmured. "Even though I knew this meeting was supposed to be political… tonight tricked me completely."
Kazuya glanced at her, a subtle smile playing on his lips.
"Maybe it doesn't have to be only that."
"Maybe."
When the cabin finally stopped and the doors slid open, cool night air rushed in again. The crowd below was still alive, fireworks blooming overhead, laughter drifting up from the stalls.
Serafall stepped out first, carefully adjusting her yukata.
"So, Mr. Director, what's next?"
"Depends," he answered, a playful note in his voice. "Want to go back to the festival, or somewhere quieter?"
She thought for a moment, watching the lanterns reflect on the water.
"Quieter."
They walked along the wooden pier, footsteps echoing softly. The festival noise faded behind them until only the sound of waves and crickets remained.
They stopped at a lone bench facing the water, the Ferris wheel spinning slowly in the distance. Serafall sat, smoothing her yukata, and the silence that wrapped around them felt perfectly natural.
"It was a good night," she said at last.
"It was."
"Even though we'll still have to deal with politics and alliances and all those complicated things…"
"True."
She smiled.
"Most people run from that stuff, but you face it head-on. And you still made time to… eat takoyaki with me."
"Maybe the simple things make more sense."
Serafall gave a soft laugh. "You talk like someone who's lived way too long."
"Maybe."
The wind blew, and a loose strand of hair fell across her face. Without thinking, Kazuya reached out and gently tucked it behind her ear. For an instant the world seemed to pause—just the sound of the sea and the distant lights.
Serafall looked at him, her smile returning slowly.
"Careful, Kazuya-kun… if you keep being like this, I might forget why I came here in the first place."
"Then maybe it really was a good night."
She laughed, gazing at the horizon where the sea mirrored the lights as if keeping their moment secret.
Serafall took a deep breath.
"…Kazuya-kun," she said, voice slightly trembling.
He looked up, calm but attentive.
She clutched the fabric of her yukata, eyes lowered as if gathering courage. When she finally met his gaze again, her expression had changed.
"If I… asked you to marry me right now…" She paused, biting her lower lip. "Would you say yes?"
The words hung in the air like a stone dropped into still water. Even the gentle lapping of the waves seemed to retreat, leaving a heavy, palpable silence.
Kazuya studied her, the soft glow of the distant lights dancing in his eyes like distant memories. With his [Omniscience], every possible future unfolded before him like an endless river—he knew exactly how to answer.
He exhaled slowly, glancing briefly at the moonlit sea.
"Serafall…" he began, voice low but clear. "Do you remember what we agreed?"
She blinked, caught off-guard. "…Agreed?"
"Three dates."
The memory brushed against her like a gentle breeze. That very first time, almost casually, he had said he would only give a real answer—any answer—after three meetings.
"Ah…" A tiny exhale escaped her. "Right."
Kazuya leaned back against the bench, arms loosely crossing his arms, expression serene.
"We're still two short."
"Two…" she echoed, as if weighing the word.
"And when the third one ends," he continued, "I'll give you an answer. A real one. Not a politically convenient one."
Serafall fell quiet for several seconds. The wind played with the loose strands of her hair, and faint fireworks crackled again in the distance, painting fleeting colors across the sky.
"You really are impossible…" she murmured at last, a faint, wistful smile on her lips. "Even when someone opens their heart to you, you still keep control of the situation."
"It's not control," he replied softly. "It's respect."
She turned to him, a little startled by the sincerity in his tone.
"You deserve an answer that isn't impulsive. And so do I."
Serafall held his gaze for a long moment. This was the kind of man who always seemed to know exactly what he was doing—and that was precisely what left her feeling so unmoored. Because he didn't treat her like a Maou, or like a political figure… he treated her like someone worth simply listening to.
The tension she'd been carrying slowly melted away. She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders.
"So… two more dates, right?"
"Two."
She smiled, and though a trace of sadness lingered, a new spark shone in her eyes—the spark of someone who still believed waiting could be worth it.
"Just so you know, I don't lose easily, Kazuya-kun."
He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting.
"I'm counting on it. So come and win me over."
Serafall laughed—light, genuine this time. The sound mingled with the crackle of distant fireworks and the whisper of the sea.
Time passed slowly after that. They didn't speak for a long while, just sat side by side, watching the festival lights dim one by one until the distant music faded into silence.
When they finally stood to leave, Serafall smoothed her yukata one last time and cast a final glance at the moonlit water.
"Next date… you pick the place."
Kazuya gave a small nod.
"Deal."
She turned to him, offering the smile not of the bubbly, playful Maou, but of the woman who had let him glimpse a piece of her truth.
"Good night, Kazuya-kun."
"Good night, Serafall."
She walked away slowly along the pier, the soft echo of her footsteps fading into the night. Kazuya remained a moment longer, watching the moon's reflection ripple across the sea.
He already knew every path the future could take, every possible ending. Yet somehow, in that instant, the uncertainty Serafall carried felt more human—more alive—than any certainty his [Omniscience] could offer.
Knowing everything never made him feel anything special about what was coming. Perfect foreknowledge, however vast and absolute, paled beside the act of living each moment with his own eyes, feeling it on his own skin. That was why he had learned to treasure the unknown—or at least the illusion of it.
It might seem strange, even contradictory, but there was something deeply human in not knowing what came next. Every unexpected gesture, every word that strayed from the pre-written script of fate, made existence feel… real.
That was why he rarely kept [Omniscience] active all the time. Not because it tired him, but by choice. He preferred to dive into the uncertainty of the present, to experience the world like anyone else—with surprise, doubt, and curiosity. Because even someone who knows everything can, just for a moment, crave the simple joy of discovery.
He let out a quiet sigh and turned back toward Chaldea.
________________________
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