"Welcome!"
"Would you like me to assist you with an introduction to our wares?"
Inside the tech store, a girl with short pink hair and a drooping ahoge greeted the two delinquent—customers—who had just walked in.
The cashier girl wore a white store apron over a black military-style trench coat with a matching skirt. Petite and cute, with fair skin and a lazy smile showing a single fang, she looked especially endearing with her heterochromic eyes.
However, one of the delinquents flinched the moment their eyes met.
The agitated one suddenly grabbed her shotgun and pointed it at the cashier, startling even her partner.
And with a single move, the peace ended abruptly.
"Y-you! What the hell are you doing working at this parts of the Black Market?! I thought you Abydos kids were too busy babysitting that adult from SCHALE!"
"Ah? What's got you so rowdy, kid?" The girl asked calmly breaking her formal speech, despite the gun pointed at her.
"I think you've got the wrong person~"
"Like hell I do! You bastards— I remember you slamming me with that shield!" The partner, now convinced the cashier was an enemy, also drew her rifle.
Both aimed, but the cashier merely blinked.
"Wow. Getting all high-strung at a completely innocent person. Guess decency isn't what it used to be." The cashier sighed, resting her cheek on her palm as she leaned on the counter.
"Listen, kiddos. I don't have beef with you. I'm just a humble part-timer. So order something, and if you're not buying, stop loitering."
The guns did not go down. If anything, her calmness only enraged the one who recognized her.
"Quit lying! You look exactly the same! Same voice, same pink hair, same stupid ahoge!"
Without hesitation, they fired in perfect sync.
BANG! BANG!
But neither shot landed at the target.
The girl had already pulled a shield from beneath the counter, blocking the bullets with practiced ease.
The cashier sighed again.
"Ugh. And here I was hoping today would be quiet…"
She glanced at the two delinquents and their ridiculous helmets.
'Pfft.. seriously, wearing helmets indoors.. so cringe.' The cashier thought in slight amusement.
"Well? Since you're not leaving peacefully, I guess I'll have to toughen up a bit."
Before either delinquent could react, she vaulted over the counter with surprising grace. She tapped the floor once with her boot, then launched herself forward, crashing her heavy shield on top of them.
Of course the crushed delinquents groaned on impact.
"Alright, brats." She said, adjusting her weight on the shield. "Store policy says I can't hurt customers… but subduing troublemakers is fair game."
The delinquents stiffened beneath her.
"Ugh!"
"This shield… I knew it!"
The cashier tilted her head before looking slightly sheepish.
"Maaahh… I told you already. Wrong person but I can't really blame you on that part. Though, if you wanna keep insisting—"
She shifted more weight onto the shield.
"W-what kind of part-timer fights like this?!" One yelled.
"The kind that wants her paycheck keeping the store bullet-free." She replied dryly.
The girl stood up, dusted off her coat, and glared at them.
"Last warning. Holster your weapons, apologize, and maybe I'll pretend this didn't happen."
The two crawled away, glanced at the cracked tiles where they'd been slammed, then looked at the cashier.
She raised an eyebrow.
"So? Your answer?"
They bowed so fast they nearly hit the floor, then bolted out of the store.
The girl slowly nodded once at their fleeing silhouettes before clapping both hands to rid of the dirt.
"Good. Now—"
She stepped back behind the counter and grabbed the telephone.
"Boss? I quit."
Hmph. Getting attacked on the first day on the job, then count her out.
—————
Click.
As soon as the pink-haired girl closed the store door, the night wind blew her hair fiercely, making her frown.
She cast a light glance at her reflection in the glass. Her ring-shaped halo—sadly—seemed bound by this world's rules, its uniqueness invisible to all students despite being an outsider. But that didn't diminish her new appearance; if anything, it only made her look even more distinct.
"Honestly… that's the fifth time today."
Guess looking like Hoshino was bound to invite trouble. Especially when her enemies consisted of delinquents who frequented the Black Market.
Becoming Hoshino… well, she could only helplessly accept the fact. It wasn't all bad—she had a stronger body, plenty of stamina… and she and her childhood friend were alive.
But there was one thing she regretted and constantly lamented—and no, it wasn't her family, nor the fact that she died before graduating. Even if she was gone, her family would eventually move on. And graduating?
Pfft. She could do that again and experience youth all over.
However… the same couldn't be said for a certain someone.
And with that thought, she couldn't help but feel guilty that their good brother wasn't here with them. Still, she and her other friend were relieved he didn't have to experience a mysterious, impossible death like they had.
They always prayed for his wellbeing. They just hoped he'd move on and live a good life without carrying their memories like a weight.
If only they hadn't died…
Well, not like any of it had been intentional. Partings and farewells always happened, but she never thought death would be what tore them apart.
And this quickly, too.
With a sigh, she turned—and froze.
Someone stood silently in the corner.
A human-shaped shadow blocked the streetlight outside, and the figure seeing her stepped forward.
Now seeing girl with the same plain, unremarkable halo, long bluish hair in a low ponytail, porcelain skin, and mismatched eyes—one neon pink, one blue—watched her with a blank, doll-like expression.
"…Aris?" The cashier whispered, her expression softening slightly.
The android, now fully visible in her frilled black dress, tilted her head.
"Hoshino. Task completion status: confirmed?"
"Ahh, don't call me Hoshino~ Just use our alias in public. Call me Konata."
The pink-haired girl—Hoshino, or rather Konata—stared for a moment before smiling.
"Well, 'complete' is kinda stretching it. But yeah. I got my pay for today. But… I'm not going back."
Aris's brows tightened.
"Clarification required: Have you withdrawn?"
"Pretty much. Such a hassle, working at the Black Market." Konata tapped her cheek. "So… making a new ID for me, huh? But where do we go for a legitimate job? Mika—err, Mikan—already works near D.U in the obscure districts, so she won't be recognized. But Millennium is a serious no-go with you."
Konata could already imagine it: if they hadn't arrived before the plot started—when Millennium's entire information infrastructure and half of Kivotos' systems were down—then forget hiding from Veritas. That Big Sister Demon King would snap them up instantly, realize she and Mikan were walking verification to her paranoia, and interrogate them to pieces for info.
"So Gehenna and Abydos… also no. Trinity, Shanghai, Red Winter would be troublesome and too far from D.U. Sooo… I guess those shops next to our apartments, even if it's close to SCHALE. I just need to avoid Angel 24."
She stretched her arms a bit, muttering, "Maahh… being the versions of two active president and vice president here, we really can't stay too high profile."
As Konata wondered aloud, Aris simply watched her—expressionless but attentive. Of course, Konata never minded telling Aris the truth. To her, Aris was practically a baby she and Mikan had adopted.
A very cute baby, actually. Heheh.
Aris noticed Konata drifting into her thoughts and chimed in, unbothered by the strange smile forming on Konata's face.
"Processing… Permit me to assist in generating income via breaching Kaiser monetary repository—"
"No. What are you, Shiroko 2.0?" The instant "digital bank robbery" left Aris's mouth, Konata's face deadpanned and she shut her down immediately.
Aris blinked, unfazed. The faint hum in her chest suggested she was formulating another idea.
"Correction: Proposal withdrawn."
"Good." Konata brushed stray pink strands behind her ear. "We are not committing any crimes unless we're on absolute last resort."
Aris tilted her head. "Then a substitute income-generation method is required. Prioritizing legality. Prioritizing anonymity. Prioritizing—"
"—not getting us hunted, jailed, or dragged into a gunfight." Konata finished dryly.
"Affirmative."
She stepped past Aris and locked the store door. Neon lights outside reflected on the glass, tinting Aris's silhouette with shifting colors. Konata quietly watched her.
Aris… wasn't supposed to wake up this early.
The original Aris would've joined the Game Development Club, learned how to speak gradually, found a hobby she loved, gained friends, experienced youth. But now, that future was gone.
Because they brought her along in a panic, unsure what else to do.
Still… as reality often proved, nothing ever followed the original flow once it was disrupted. What's done is done, so one shouldn't cry over spilled milk. And for Aris's sake, Konata would compensate for everything she had lost.
Give her comfort. Give her friends. Give her happiness.
That was the least she could do for her cute student. She used to be a teacher, after all—meeting one of the "core" students, even by accident, honestly made her happy.
"…Anyway," Konata said, stretching, "we'll figure it out tomorrow. Maybe those supply shops near SCHALE need part-timers. I'll make sure to hide. Sensei's at Abydos right now, so we just need to get home before morning."
Aris blinked slowly and immediately followed with her opinion. "Assessment: Probability of 'not causing a scene' is low."
The android's gaze drifted over Konata's figure—especially remembering her fighting style.
Pink sparks. Shadowy silhouette beneath the glow. Explosive attacks.
Very flashy indeed.
Konata squinted her eyes helplessly. "…You know, you didn't have to say it that fast."
"Apologies. My honesty function is automatic."
"You mean your tact function is broken."
"That is also accurate."
Konata covered her mouth with one hand—amused and exasperated at the same time.
'Oh gosh… Aris is being corrupted. I bet Kei wouldn't approve! Or was she Kei and Aris combined with her blue and neon pink eyes?'
Settling being amused instead of confusion, Konata dramatically threw her store apron to the wind, slung her shield over her back, and followed the android out into the evening light.
Tonight, at least, they still had a little peace left.
————
Meanwhile..
Inside the kitchen of a small but well-known café at D.U stood Mika Misono—or rather, what was supposed to be Mika from Trinity.
This Mika, however, appeared noticeably quieter, and the 'life' in her eyes was nowhere to be found. Instead, they were clouded with a deep, unsettling darkness that could make anyone who saw her for the first time instinctively shiver.
Her hairstyle remained the same as ever: long hair gathered into a bun tied on the right side but it was in slight disarray, loosely knotted, with several stubborn strands poking out as if she hadn't bothered fixing it. She wore a simple pink track jacket paired with white shorts, and though her wings—or rather, the single remaining one—looked slightly misaligned, she otherwise seemed physically fine.
And now, she had just finished decorating several cupcakes for tomorrow's sale.
"Hehehe~ this looks so good! I'm betting I'm getting a good raise today☆"
Her smile, unsettlingly paired with those 'dead' eyes, lingered as she put away her tools. Her free hand reached toward the side of the counter, feeling for a white piece of cloth.
Mika draped it over her eyes and tightened the knot, then headed toward the door with a cheerful hum.
"Mrs. Inoue, the cupcakes are—"
"Ah! Miss Mikan!"
Before Mika—no, Mikan—could finish, a figure suddenly rushed toward her. It was a small, chubby black Husky standing on two feet and wearing the café's uniform.
Mrs. Inoue grasped Mikan's smooth hand before leaning closer, anxiously whispering.
"Here… please give me the cupcakes for tomorrow. I'm sorry, but today's customer seems to be… err… quite special." While saying this, the Husky couldn't help but glance subtly at Mikan's wing before gently nudging her back toward the kitchen.
But Mikan merely shook her head in quiet refusal. She watched the Husky hurry toward the kitchen, then turned her attention aside.
She was confused, of course. After a brief pause, she leaned her head just slightly toward the main lobby, curiosity tugging at her despite everything.
Despite the cloth tied over her eyes, seeing wasn't particularly difficult. The fabric was thin—almost delicate—meant more to conceal her eyes than to completely blind her.
And ultimately, that was its only real purpose: to keep her deadened gaze from stirring unnecessary fear or concern.
She already attracted too much of the latter because of her wings. One looked disjointed and stiff, while the other was nothing but a stump, as if it had been violently torn from her body.
However, when she peeked into the lobby, she spotted one of her co-workers—a humanoid service robot—trembling like a leaf as it faced a group of horrid demons—er, no.
Students.
Students who were somehow surrounded by towering stacks of empty plates on both sides of their table.
The sight made Mikan freeze, a mix of confusion and irritation rising in her chest.
This nonsensical hatred wasn't her own emotion exactly, but this body's instinctive hostility reacting all on its own.
She clicked her tongue softly, now in a bad mood.
"…Seriously? At this hour?"
She stepped from the doorway, the cloth over her eyes shifting slightly with her movement. For a brief moment, the hum of the café seemed to dim, as if bracing for her presence. The students didn't notice her—they were far too focused on devouring everything on their plates, ordering more despite the dishes already reaching eye level.
However, one did catch her attention: a long silver-haired girl with braids. Unlike the rest, she ate with refined composure, slicing her dessert with precise, elegant manners. It seemed she was taking her time with her cake, looking utterly calm despite the chaos her group was in.
To Mikan, nothing about them seemed that strange. Except for the group's appetite. So she couldn't help but feel Mrs. Inoue and her co-worker were overreacting.
Did they… hate demon students too? But if so, why did it seem more like fear…?
As Mikan pondered, her co-worker's voice crackled nervously.
"P-Please… p-please place orders one at a time…"
But the yellow-haired one continued ordering nonstop, accompanied by another white-haired girl who was emptying her plates at a speed that practically explained the mountain of dishes.
The small red one munched calmly at her own pace, seemingly in her own little world.
Mikan sighed.
If this was the "special" customers Mrs. Inoue mentioned, then this was going to be troublesome. And judging from the instinctive prickle crawling down her spine, her body apparently agreed.
Still, she straightened, approached the counter, and gently tapped the robot's shoulder.
"Hey, what's going on?" she whispered.
The robot staggered slightly from surprise, then straightened up. His digital face flickered, then focused on the group before turning fully to Mikan.
"Miss Mikan," he said, voice trembling. "T-These students… they're the Gourmet Research Club."
Mikan blinked. Gourmet Research… Club?
The robot continued in a whispery panic, his servos whirring anxiously.
"They've already finished three rounds of the menu—three—plus extra batches! They even went through the ingredients we prepared for tomorrow's stock… and they keep asking for more samples. I-I do not have the processing capacity to keep up…"
Before Mikan could respond, a calm voice chimed in from one of the tables.
"It's no wonder the café has improved."
A silver-haired girl with neatly braided hair had finally taken notice of her. She dabbed the corner of her lips with a napkin, then lifted her gaze—direct, composed, and frighteningly observant—straight toward Mikan's covered eyes.
"Last time we visited, the food was… frankly, stale." She said matter-of-factly. "Excellent drinks, terrible dishes. We had to give a low score despite the plus points for your wonderful beverages." She rose from her seat with poised elegance and approached Mikan without hesitation.
Mikan stiffened.
"H-Huh…?"
"But now?" The girl's eyes gleamed with genuine delight. "In just a few days, the entire menu has become perfect. The sugar balance is precise, the flavors of the dishes layered and rich—every bite leaves an impression." She clasped her hands lightly, almost angelically. "Truly, a splendid encounter. It must be you who brought such a delightful change."
She placed a hand on her chest and gave a polite bow.
"May I have the honor of knowing your name, Miss Angel? I am Kurodate Haruna, President of the Gourmet Research Society. And these," She gestured behind her, "are my companions, who walk the path of gourmet excellence."
In an instant, a dozen instincts inside her flared at once.
Ninety percent unpleasant, ten percent happy to be acknowledged.
Mikan swallowed before forcing a weary smile.
"…Why do I suddenly regret coming out here?"
Haruna leaned slightly closer, her expression both gentle and subtly intimidating.
"Ah, don't worry," she said. "We won't bite."
A pause.
"Well… at least not the chef."
Several club members nodded in agreement, one amused, one distracted and the other was curious, which somehow made it even worse.
Mikan took a tiny step back. In fear or disgust, Mikan will never know.
"O-Okay, that doesn't help… hahaha…"
Haruna let out a soft laugh—a pleasant sound, though it carried an unmistakable hint of pressure.
"Relax, Miss Angel. We simply wish to ask a few questions. After all…" Her eyes drifted toward Mikan's hands, then toward the kitchen door. "A cook with such skill appearing out of nowhere is rather intriguing, isn't it?"
She clasped her hands politely.
"We'd also like to ask if you're free tomorrow. We actually planned something with Fuuka—another great cook of our academy. But if we were to add you, perhaps we'd have an even more bountiful gourmet experience."
Mikan felt her stomach drop.
"…Why does this feel like a weird sense of foreboding?"
At that moment, the Gourmet Research Club members all reached into their bags and pulled out—simultaneously—a long coil of rope.
Mikan froze.
And that answered her question perfectly.
Which brought us to several minutes later.
Mikan now sat on a chair with her wrists and legs tied up, and a strip of duct tape neatly pressed over her mouth. She could actually break free—easily, in fact—but she was far too bewildered to even try. Her common sense, already shaky after her previous… incident, was once again cracking apart right before her eyes.
In the corner of the café, Miss Inoue and the robot coworker were in a frantic panic, both speaking over each other as they repeatedly dialed the same number.
"C-Calm down, calm down—just follow the protocol!" the robot whispered hoarsely.
"This is me following the protocol!!" Mrs. Inoue wailed. "They came again—AGAIN! Why is it always our shop?!"
The phone rang rapidly.
On the screen appeared the contact the café had saved long ago for emergencies exactly like this:
Gehena Disciplinary Committee — 'Gourmet Research Club Damage Control Hotline'
Because the Gourmet Research Club's president had blown up their café more times than anyone cared to count, the Prefect Team themselves forced the owner to install this hotline—just in case those troublesome gourmet fanatics ever returned.
And now the situation was even worse.
They were kidnapping a disabled-looking Trinity student who seemed to be on leave with an injury!
But despite the growing severity of the scene, Mikan—tied up, taped, and currently being dragged away by Izumi, Akari, and Junko, whose names were forcibly introduced to her earlier—could only stare blankly at everything unfolding.
…What kind of insane world did I walk into? Later, when I get back home and see Konata, I'm beating her to a bloody pulp for taking me in this nonsensical game..!
---
Meanwhile…
Hoshino Terror (Konata): "Achoo! Is someone talking bad about me?"