The tea was warm, the snacks were decent, and the two beautiful women across the table were glaring at each other like generals on the eve of battle.
Ethan leaned back, bit into something flaky and sweet, and tried to decide whether it was more like a cookie or a biscuit. Either way, it beat the stale bread he'd been living on since arriving in this world.
On his left sat Rias Gremory, her crimson hair catching the afternoon light like molten rubies. Her smile was perfectly polite but sharp enough to cut glass. On his right was Sona Shitori, her dark hair neatly arranged, glasses gleaming, and posture as straight as a chess piece ready to take the king.
The air between them practically crackled—not the good kind of crackle that came from his hellfire.
"You know," Rias said in the kind of voice that made diplomacy sound like an insult, "it's rather poor manners to take food from someone else's plate."
Ethan froze mid-chew. Oh, she's talking metaphorically. Probably.
Sona's lips curved into the faintest smile, the kind that was more about showing teeth than amusement. "If you leave something untouched for too long, someone else will naturally assume you don't want it." She adjusted her glasses. "Especially if you've already overfilled your own plate."
Translation: You've got Issei. You don't get to hoard everyone with potential.
Rias' smile didn't falter, but the way her fingers tapped the table betrayed her irritation. "I happen to need another one."
"Interesting," Sona said, "but you cannot have both of them."
Ethan reached for another snack, something buttery this time, and wondered whether he should be flattered or concerned. They weren't even pretending to talk to him. He was just the centerpiece in their little territorial dispute. Which was fine, really. Less talking meant more eating.
"I found him first," Rias continued, leaning slightly forward, her gaze a challenge. "I was the first to recognize he wasn't ordinary."
"Yes," Sona agreed smoothly, "and then you promptly ignored him. If I hadn't informed you about him, you wouldn't even have come here to check on him."
Ethan sipped his tea. The tension tasted stronger than the brew. Both women looked at him, then placed two identical papers on the table.
The papers landed almost simultaneously.
Two neatly prepared contracts lay before him, one printed on luxurious parchment bearing Rias' crest, the other marked with the Shitori clan seal.
Rias gestured gracefully. "You'd be a valuable addition to my peerage, Ethan. Protection, resources, and the chance to reach your full potential."
Sona adjusted her glasses again, her tone crisp. "Or you could join mine. I need someone like you with stability and results. You'd be given the freedom to operate as you see fit."
Ethan picked up one contract, skimmed it, then picked up the other and did the same. He leaned back and gave them both a look.
"Besides the whole not dying of old age thing… I don't really see the benefit. As for money and resources, that's something I can just rob from the bank."
Rias blinked. Sona's brows lifted a fraction.
"And," Ethan added, "I don't think your transformation would work on me anyway."
Sona tilted her head. "Explain."
"It's because of what I have," Ethan said, swirling the tea in his cup before taking another sip. "Angel spirit. Corrupted, sure, but still there."
Rias' smile thinned slightly. "You'll forgive me if I'm… skeptical."
"She means," Sona said, her tone still precise but edged with curiosity, "nothing about your… other form screams 'holy.'"
"Yeah, well, hellfire tends to ruin the angel aesthetic," Ethan replied dryly. "But just because it's corrupted now doesn't mean it can't change. Once I can talk to him—the spirit, I mean—we could probably clean it up if we work together."
Sona's fingers paused mid-adjustment of her glasses. "Clean it up?"
Ethan leaned forward a little, a faint grin tugging at his lips. "Imagine the flames turning blue. Still got the power, but now they also heal. Stronger, better-looking. Probably better-smelling too."
Rias tilted her head, interest flickering in her eyes despite herself. "Blue flames with healing properties…"
"Exactly." Ethan popped another snack into his mouth. "Plus, with an angelic spirit that already has a contract with the devil, the transformation wouldn't work on me."
There was a pause. For the first time since he'd walked in, they weren't looking at each other like they wanted to politically assassinate one another. Instead, their eyes were both on him, weighing, calculating, considering.
Which, honestly, was worse.
Ethan set down his cup. "So… am I free to finish my snacks, or are we about to escalate this into something… interesting?"
A slow smirk tugged at his lips as his thoughts drifted. This was DxD, after all, and he'd seen how the so-called protagonist's life went. If these two decided to switch from fighting over him to… competing in a more hands-on way, he wasn't going to shy away. In fact, part of him was already expecting it, waiting for both of them to remove their shirts and start the action.
Unfortunately, instead of doing that, both women smiled.
Those smiles were somehow more dangerous than the earlier glares.