We took a break after so many club activities, finding a slightly quieter alcove near the courtyard windows. Moka was buzzing with a gentle energy, recounting the shots she'd made at the Archery Range.
"I was initially worried that I didn't have enough strength to pull the weight of the bow, but surprisingly it felt easier than I expected."
"I even managed to hit a bullseye by the end and beat you."
I handed her a steaming cup of tea I'd snagged from a passing stall. "I saw. You were amazing and you looked as if you enjoyed beating me up.."
She accepted the cup, her fingers brushing mine for just a heartbeat longer than necessary. For a moment, she was quiet, staring into the pale liquid. Then a small, private smile touched her lips—the kind that wasn't meant for anyone else.
Of course, I couldn't read her mind, regardless of how much I wanted to boast about my increased stats, I had my human limitations. Yet, I could only imagine that it wasn't something bad per se.
Her eyes drifted to me, lingering on my profile. I felt the weight of her gaze like a warm pressure.
'I want this day to never end. No, I have to try my best to win Tsukune's heart since I can't bear in my heart to lose this connection.'
'My first friend… my first vampiric bite…'
'I wonder how it would feel to kiss Tsukune?'
I kept my eyes on my tea, sipping slowly, pretending I didn't notice her staring. But I couldn't suppress my own small smile.
She unconsciously stayed longer on his features and couldn't help but notice how Tsukune's skin was slowly, day-by-day, gained a lighter complexion, akin to a night creature, even though he was a human. How his jawline was sharpening visibly as the last traces of baby fat melted away.
She caught herself staring too long and looked away, flustered. Her blush deepened.
'How do I even bring myself to do such a bold thing?'
'What if he rejects me? Would that make us awkward? Will it be the end of our friendship?'
'Does he even like me the way I like him?'
She couldn't handle getting teased too much by Tsukune.
Meanwhile, I noticed a change in the flow of students in this area. Could it be? Right, because the Punishment Committee started doing their rounds to remind the reckless Yokais to mind their behavior less they wanted to spend a chill night in their dungeon.
My scanning eyes caught a shift in the crowd's atmosphere. It happened near the main archway where the flow of students parted like water to Moses' walking stick.
They moved through the festival with a chilling dominating aura, and from what I could observe they were in pairs of three. All of them wore the same, crisp, grey uniforms with sharp tailoring, armbands, and an air of absolute authority.
First, my eyes shifted toward the woman, and I swear, I was living in some twisted hentai world because even the SS-attire had this seducing vibe for the women.
The girl was stunning, there was no denying it. Her uniform was tailored to put every curve on devastating display, and she wore it with the casual confidence of someone who knew exactly what weapons she possessed.
[Name: Kuchiba Ririsa]
[Threat Level: A(Empusa)]
She had long, thick black hair styled in a hime-cut and burgundy eyes, while her crimson lips held a faint, bored smirk.
While looking at this girl it didn't remind me of any character I knew from the various anime and mangas I've watched or read, for some reason, there was still a nagging feeling that something wasn't right.
'Please just walk past. Don't notice me. I'm just another face—'
Lo and behold, she noticed me staring.
Her burgundy eyes slid across the crowd, past the milling students, past the booths, past the distractions—and landed directly on me.
The smirk didn't change. But something in her gaze sharpened. Intensified. She looked at me like I was a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit, and she found that interesting.
'Oh no… I think I'm in danger.'
The two males flanking her were less subtle. One was hulking, thick-necked, with a perpetually cruel squint and hands the size of dinner plates. A brute. The second was wiry, sharp-featured, with restless, darting eyes that flickered over the crowd like a rat hunting scraps.
[Name: Guroken]
[Threat Level: C(Leucrotta)]
[Name: Hiyashi]
[Threat Level: B(Baboon Demon)]
"Oi, Ririsa-san," Hiyashi muttered, his voice a grating whisper. "What's up? Spot a new toy for the dungeon?"
Guroken grunted in amusement, cracking his thick neck. "Looking for dinner? I heard the freshmen this year are especially... tender."
Ririsa's lip curled with disdain. She didn't dignify their crudeness with a response. Unlike these brutes, she didn't hunt like some common predator. The very thought of feeding on anything below C-tier disgusted her. Artificial blood was a bore, but preferable to debasing herself with… lesser beings.
Unlike the pathetic succubi that needed to extract their target's essence and life force through deplorable acts, such as having sex with their meals, she was more refined, like the Legendary Vampires.
So why couldn't she look away from him?
Just looking at Tsukune, she could see that he wasn't handsome like the visages of the Greek Gods her ancestor described after they relocated to the far-easter lands such as Japan after the failures in the Greek World back in the 3rd Century B.C., or how it would later be known to be Japan.
Nonetheless, there was something magnetic about this unassuming guy. It was his scent, so captivating, but not from his perfume or anything of that direction which pulled her gaze into his direction. He had this human smell that made him unforgettable, similar to the special humans who possessed mana or a sacred gear.
('Interesting.')
"The one with the pink-haired girl," she said, her voice cool and dismissive, as if asking about the weather. "Who is he?"
Hiyashi followed her gaze, and his expression shifted. First to the pink-haired girl—Moka, he recognized her instantly, one of the most talked-about first-years. The baboon part of his brain woke up, and a leer spread across his features. Guroken similarly perked up, his cruel squint focusing on Moka with obvious, disgusting interest.
"Oh, her. Akashiya Moka. Pink hair, huge tits, her ass is also not bad. She is a Vampire from her data, but I think she's a lesser kind because she doesn't give off any Yoki pressure." Hiyashi licked his lips unconsciously.
"Seriously? Why would I care about such weakling? Tell me about the boy, and better not waste my time with nonsense." Ririsa's tone sharpened, rising to a warning.
Hiyashi dragged his gaze away from Moka with visible effort. "Huh? Oh, him. That'd be Aono Tsukune. Nobody special. Grades are average—was dead last in PE at the start, but showed that he wasn't that weak by climbing later on to a mid spot."
Guroken snorted. "Mediocre. Just an ant. Why bother with him, Ririsa-san? If you want, I can volunteer myself.."
Her response was ice. "One more useless word, and I will kill you."
"... Yes madam. Sorry. I'll keep quiet."
"But," Hiyashi continued, his voice dropping, "There's this rumor about him taking down Saizo Komiya, the idiot Orc we wanted to recruit as an Enforcer. It happened in the first week of the school year."
A pause. Ririsa's pace didn't falter, but her head tilted minutely.
"However, the thing is that there is this juicy rumor"
"Such as?"
"He resembles a human. Too much. Some say he might actually be one."
"Has this reached Kuyo-san's ears?" Ririsa asked, her voice contemplative now.
"I don't think so..." Hiyashi replied. "If it had, that guy wouldn't be sitting there drinking tea all chummy with that Moka babe. We all know Kuyo-sama hates humans. Ever since the humiliation with the Vermillion Priestess, Suzaku Himejima."
"Good." Ririsa's voice dropped to a silk-wrapped command. "Keep it that way. Until I get my hands on this Aono Tsukune and have a taste of him, no word reaches Kuyo about this rumor."
She paused, her burgundy eyes flicking back toward Tsukune one final time as they moved past.
"Besides," she added, her tone dripping with contempt for the entire academy, "we all know Headmaster Mikogami is incompetent. And that slimy Hokuto Kaneshiro is useless as the Student Council President."
"He has steered the Student Council—and by extension this entire Academy—into a gathering of weak, pathetic pigs."
She smiled, and it was beautiful and terrifying.
"This Academy lacks direction. Perhaps it's time someone... provided one."
Then they were gone, swallowed by the crowd, leaving only a wake of intimidated students and cold dread.
Watching the three members of the Punishment Committee walk away, it was now visible why their reputation was so grim, and they put fear and terror to many freshmen and even older students.
It was a rare occurrence during the average school time to see the Punishment Committee but you would see their members once in a while wearing those cool uniforms.
Watching them pass, my eyes involuntarily tracking the crisp, grey uniforms with their precise tailoring.
'For all the crimes and inhumane acts that mustache one has probably committed in his life… you have to admit, their party knew style.'
'Hugo Boss would be proud of those uniforms.'
'Ohh, I'm getting lost again. Snap out of it. They're the enemy.'
Moka followed my gaze, her happy expression dimming as she watched the grey uniforms disappear into the crowd. "The Committee... they always look so severe."
"Just remember the rules," I said, keeping my voice low and even. "And stay close. There might be more idiots like Saizo eyeing you."
The name alone was enough. She trembled—a small, involuntary shudder that ran through her entire body. The memory of that day in the forest, of being pinned down by something that saw her as nothing but a toy, flashed behind her eyes. Without thinking, she grabbed hold of my arm, her fingers digging into the fabric of my sleeve with surprising strength.
I didn't pull away. Instead, I covered her hand with mine, letting her feel the solid warmth of someone who'd stood between her and that nightmare. "Hey. Breathe. They're gone now."
She took a shaky breath, nodding against my shoulder.
'Need to redirect her', I thought. 'Can't let her spiral.'
"So," I began, deliberately brightening my tone, "what else caught your attention today? Besides beating me at tennis, ping-pong, archery, umm, all of the sports we tried? I mean… Did you have fun beating my sorry ass?"
It worked, of course making a girl laugh was the easiest way to get her mind wander away from shitty moments. The tension in her shoulders eased as she latched onto the question, grateful for the lifeline.
Within moments, while not gloating too much about her victory over me at the sports, thankfully, she quickly transformed into quite the chirping bird—gesturing animatedly as she recounted the Calligraphy Club's elegant demonstrations, the Gardening Club's miniature magical greenhouse, the way the Cooking Club's takoyaki had wiggled on the plate before she'd realized it was just animated by a playful student trying to prank 'customers'.
If you asked me, that was such a bad business model, but hey, each with their own I guess.
"There are so many good clubs!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with genuine wonder. "I want to explore all of them. Try them out, if they'll let me. I never had this many choices before."
Her enthusiasm was infectious. I found myself smiling despite the lingering unease from the Committee's passing by baddie. Oh, and what a baddie she was.
She turned to me then, that earnest expression firmly in place. "What about you, Tsukune? What interested you so far?" A pause, a slight dip of her gaze. "I'd like to join the same club as you. If... if that's okay."
'Smooth, Moka. Real smooth. You're improving.'
I chuckled. "If I picked the Swimming Club, your other self would come out to kill me."
Her face went completely blank. An expression that clearly screamed, 'If you know why, why even mention it?'
Then her rosary flashed with crimson light—brief but unmistakable. When Moka spoke again, her voice carried a faint, haughty echo, and she did try her best to sound exactly like Inner Moka while putting on the attitude.
"The other me said… ahem… [You better not think of doing anything stupid. You know fully well my and hers weakness. If I catch you sneaking off to any Swimming Club, I will break all of your bones, and then let you take a swim into the Blood River outside the Campus. I'm sure you'll choose wisely, Tsukune. Right~?]
I shuddered dramatically—not entirely for show, because I had zero doubt Inner Moka would follow through. I raised both arms in an exaggerated surrender. "Please spare me! Moka-chan, you better tell her to stand down or you'll no longer see me walking—or keeping you company."
"That's unfair, Tsukune!" A whine crept into her voice, mixed with embarrassment. "That's coercing me to take your side!"
"Okay, okay—no Swimming Club on the visit list." I stood, brushing off my uniform, then offered her my hand. "Should we get going to the Theatre Club? I'm sure if I audition, I'm a shoo-in for a lead role."
She took my hand, rising with that natural grace that always seemed to surprise her. "I'll tag along," she said hesitantly, "but I'm not doing any acting. I can't handle that much attention. Standing in front of people like that..."
'Right, she's still socially anxious especially in big gatherings and when people look at her.'
"Don't worry," I assured her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it. "I'm sure we'll have fun. You can be my personal critic."
But before we could take a step, she tugged at my sleeve. I turned to find her looking up at me with that particular expression—soft, vulnerable, and hungry in a way that had nothing to do with monsters.
That look meant she wanted to have a cool-aid drink.
"If you don't mind, Tsukune..." she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "All the festival activities... they made me tired. And a little... hungry."
"No need to be shy. What kind of friend would I be if I denied you basic functions?"
I glanced around. The alcove was still relatively quiet, the festival's chaos flowing around us like water around a stone. No one was paying attention to two freshmen taking a break.
I tilted my head slightly, exposing my neck—a gesture that had become almost routine between us.
She leaned in, her breath warm against my skin. The familiar pinch of her fangs, the gentle pull. It lasted only seconds—she was always considerate, never taking more than a taste. When she withdrew, she dabbed at the tiny wounds with her thumb, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
Whether from the act itself or simple embarrassment, I couldn't tell. "Thank you," she whispered.
I ruffled her pink hair, ignoring the faint sting at my neck. "Anytime. Now come on—let's go watch me fail spectacularly at dramatic acting."
She laughed, the sound bright and genuine, cutting through the festival's noise like a bell and from there on we plunged again into the crowd, together, her hand finding mine naturally this time.
'Not a bad day,' I thought, squeezing her hand gently. 'Not a bad day at all.'
Weaving through the festival crowd toward the Theatre Club's designated booth, I found my steps slowing despite myself.
A voice—no, a song—drifted through the chaos, cutting through the noise like moonlight through clouds. It wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. The melody wrapped gently over my mind, tugging myself in the direction of the vibrations, insistently.
The feeling wasn't strange to him, it felt as if someone was trying to put him under a mind control spell once more.
The crowd around the Singing Club's booth was staggering. A sea of male students stood transfixed, packed shoulder to shoulder, their expressions ranging from dreamy to utterly vacant. Some swayed slightly. Others just stared, mouths slightly open, completely lost.
I understood why.
On the small stage, three girls stood bathed in soft, enchanted lighting. Their voices blended in harmony that shouldn't have been possible for a school club performance. But it wasn't just their talent that held the audience hostage.
Wings. Pure white, feathered wings folded elegantly behind them, catching the light and scattering it like snow.
'Angels? No that would be contradictory. They don't give off that holy light image, far from it, they are another group of enchantresses.'
'Should be Sirens like the girl from Rosario. Now it makes sense why some of these idiots are drooling listening to the music'
The lead vocalist—a gorgeous blonde, probably second-year—smiled at her captive audience with the serene confidence of a predator who knew her prey wasn't going anywhere.
And neither was I, apparently.
I blinked. When had I taken three steps toward the booth?
Shit.
The pull was insidious. Just a gentle, persistent suggestion that listening was the best possible use of my time. That standing here, letting the melody wash over me, was exactly where I belonged.
I bit my tongue. Hard.
The sharp tang of blood and the spike of pain cut through the fog like a blade. My vision cleared. The compulsion receded, leaving behind a faint headache and a surge of irritation.
'Mind control. Of course. Because why would anything in this school be simple?'
My arm moved instinctively, wrapping around Moka's waist and pulling her closer, more firmly into my side. She blinked up at me, confusion in her emerald eyes.
"Tsukune?" she murmured. Then her brow furrowed. "Something's wrong with that singing. Listening made me feel... dizzy."
"I know." I kept my voice low, my eyes scanning the crowd. "Let's move on. I think there's going to be a commotion soon."
As we edged away from the Singing Club's gravitational pull, I glanced back with my enhanced vision. The angelic wings were unmistakable now. White, pristine, nothing like the blackened wings of Fallen Angels I remembered from the lore.
'It has to be Sirens, right? Fallen Angels would have their wings blackened, and I doubt someone like Azazel would let them be shaped by Mikogami, since he has his own institutions for future soldiers.
We'd barely put twenty meters between us and the singing when I spotted a familiar flash of light blue hair.
Kurumu stood by a decorative pillar, half-hidden in the shadows of an overhanging banner. Her expression was caught somewhere between annoyed and constipated—that particular brand of frustration she got when things weren't going her way.
I bit back a grin.
'Still hung up on being the most popular girl, huh? Watching the Sirens steal your shine must sting.'
But I had to give her credit. She'd changed since the manipulation incident. No simps trailed her like mindless zombies anymore. She stood alone, watching the competition with naked envy but making no move to interfere or charm her way into the spotlight. This is what, I call personal growth.
You're on the right track Kurumu-chan. Slowly by surely, you're on the path of becoming a girl worth pursuing.
Then her head turned. Our eyes met across the crowded space.
I winked.
The effect was immediate and deeply satisfying. Her pale cheeks flooded with crimson while she looked away so fast I half-expected whiplash. Man, I love these types of reactions. Then, with a final, flustered glance at me—and a longer, more complicated look at Moka clinging to my arm—she melted into the crowd and disappeared.
Don't tell me, I mused, guiding Moka past a cluster of oblivious students. If Moka's the sulking, jealous type, Kurumu goes straight to stalking? Wasn't that something Mizore should do? By the way, I haven't seen Mizore since the school year began.
Was she a shut-in, or just casually skipping all classes and showing up only at the semester's finals.
I'm kinda looking forward to meeting her.
"Tsukune?" Moka's voice pulled me back. "You're smiling. What's funny?"
"Nothing. Just thinking about something."
While we walked toward the Theatre Club, I caught snippets of conversation from the crowd around us as I felt curious to see what other thought of us, well mainly of me in such a large gathering of students.
"Tsk, is that Aono guy again with Moka-san. They're basically attached at the hip."
"Aren't the two dating or something? I hear it from my little cousin who is from their class. They sit next to each other every day and even spend their breaks together."
"No way. He's not even that good-looking. What's her deal?"
"Who cares? She's gorgeous. If she's into him, maybe he's got something we don't know about."
The speakers—three male students I vaguely recognized from other classes—hadn't noticed me. Their voices carried with the casual cruelty of people who assumed they were just background noise.
"I heard someone saw them behind the gym last week," one said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Moka was, like, kissing his neck."
Another whistled. "Lucky bastard."
'Feeding,' I corrected silently. 'She was feeding. Not that it's any of your business.'
But the rumor had clearly spread. The way they whispered, the knowing looks—this wasn't just speculation anymore, by this point I think it was an accepted fact among the student body.
('Tsukune and Moka are dating.')
We made our way to the Theatre Club, which had apparently claimed an entire classroom for themselves. The moment we stepped through the door, I understood why. The space had been transformed—curtains draped along the walls, a raised stage at the front with actual spotlights, rows of chairs arranged like a proper auditorium. They'd even managed to install a small backstage area with props and costume racks.
'Impressive,' I admitted. 'These guys take their craft seriously.'
Students packed the seats, murmuring with anticipation as they watched the current performer on stage—some guy from another class I didn't recognize, dramatically reciting what sounded like a monologue from a classic play, a human one, ohh the irony.
He was... okay. A bit stiff. Like it was the kind of performance that hit every mark but lacked any real soul.
Moka squeezed my hand before finding a seat near the middle. "Good luck," she whispered, her eyes warm with encouragement.
I nodded and made my way to the registration table near the stage.
"Name?" The girl behind the table didn't look up, her pen poised over a clipboard.
"Aono Tsukune. First year."
She checked a box, then finally glanced at me. "You're up in about twenty minutes. There's a waiting area backstage, and you can browse our props if you need anything for your performance."
I thanked her and slipped behind the curtain.
Backstage was chaos in the best way. Students paced while muttering lines to themselves. A girl adjusted her costume frantically while another held a mirror for her. The smell of old fabric, makeup, and nervous sweat hung in the air. I found an empty spot near the prop racks and started browsing.
Ancient Greek costumes. Armor pieces. Fake swords. And there, hanging on a hook—a lyre. Small, wooden, with actual strings that seemed well-maintained.
I picked it up, testing the weight. The instrument felt surprisingly natural in my hands.
'Acting. Right. What am I supposed to do?'
My mind was full of ideas, but none I could confidently execute. I wasn't a trained actor. I couldn't recite Shakespeare or deliver a powerful monologue. But a talent show... that was different. In my previous life, I'd watched enough performances to know that raw emotion could carry more weight than technical skill.
My voice as Tsukune wasn't bad. In fact, it was the blessing of a Voice Actor that his vocal range and tone were smoother than in my previous life. Smoother, more flexible. Capable of melody.
'Oh well. Puberty does things to you, I guess.'
While I did miss my first life, I tried not linger too much on it as I would just get into a depressive episode. I just had to constantly be engaged with something so my mind doesn't linger in those dark spaces.
Back to the act, the lyre in my hands sparked another memory. A song from a game I'd played in my first life, one that had stuck a deep impression on me, from the gameplay to its story.
The melody itself was relatively simple, and even the lyrics seems to flow out of my memory the more I was playing with the lyre.
Good Riddance, from Hades which I had poured close to a thousand hours into.
I found a quiet corner and started picking at the strings, searching for the rhythm. My fingers moved awkwardly at first—I'd never played a lyre before—but something surprising happened. The improved dexterity from my stat increases, the enhanced mental processing, the way my split mind could focus on multiple things at once... it all came together. Within minutes, I'd found the basic pattern. Within ten, I could play the melody without thinking.
The rhythm entered my ears, simple and clean. I closed my eyes and let myself feel it.
"Aono Tsukune!" a stagehand called. "You're up!"
I grabbed the lyre, adjusted the Greek chiton I'd thrown on over my uniform, and stepped onto the stage.
The lights hit me hard. The audience materialized from the darkness—rows of faces, some curious, some skeptical, some already bored. I spotted Moka near the middle, her hands clasped in her lap, watching me with those earnest eyes.
"Good afternoon," I said, my voice carrying through the space. "I'm Aono Tsukune from Class 1-B. I'll be performing a song."
A few eyebrows raised. A song wasn't typical for a theatre club tryout. But nobody stopped me.
I settled onto the edge of the stage, letting my legs dangle over the side. The lyre rested in my lap. For a moment, I just sat there, looking out at the sea of monsters who didn't know they were watching a human.
Then I began to play.
Simple notes at first. A gentle, almost tentative melody. Some students shifted in their seats, unsure where this was going. A few in the back started whispering.
"Boring!" someone called out. A few others joined in with half-hearted boos.
I kept playing, forcing my own fears away. Kept my eyes half-closed, focused on the strings, on the rhythm building in my chest.
Then, as if something possessed me, I increased the tempo. My fingers moved faster, more confidently. The simple melody bloomed into something fuller, richer. And when the moment felt right, I opened my mouth and sang.
"Farewell... to all the earthly remains..."
The booing stopped.
My voice carried through the silent room—not loud, but clear. Every word enunciated as the notes found their place in the room thanks to the lyre's range.
"No burdens... no further debts to be paid..."
I kept my eyes half-closed, letting the music take over. For me, in this moment, it was about being human in a world of monsters. About the constant fear, the constant vigilance of not knowing how certain my life was, the constant weight of my secret as a human in a society full of monsters.
"Atlas... can rest his weary bones...
The weight of the world...
All falls away...
In time..."
My eyes opened. I found myself at the edge of the stage, closer to the audience than I'd realized. Students in the front row stared up at me, their expressions unreadable. I kept playing, kept singing.
In the back row, a girl with black hair and dark eyes pressed both hands to her chest, her lips parted, her gaze fixed on me like I was the only thing in the room worth seeing. Her figure was stunning—even sitting down, I could tell she was well-endowed, more than most, more than Kurumu even. But it wasn't her figure that caught my attention.
It was her look.
She inhaled deeply—a subtle motion, but I caught it.
Then, slowly, as she continued to listen to the fading echo of the song, her expression changed, that edge of her softened considerably. The hunger in her eyes mellowed into something warmer, almost tender.
"Goodbye... to all the plans that we made...
No contracts... I'm free to do as I may..."
A strange thing happened. The restlessness in the audience melted away. Even the students who'd been whispering fell silent. The melody, simple as it was, seemed to wrap around them, drawing them in, as if it had a certain power over the minds of the supernatural.
"No hunger... no sleep except to dream...
Mild and warm... safe from all harm...
Calm..."
Moka's hands pressed against her mouth. Her eyes glistened.
My voice softened as I approached the end. The lyre's notes grew quieter, gentler.
The final note faded into silence.
For a long moment, nothing happened. The room was utterly still, holding its breath. I sat there on the edge of the stage, lyre in my lap, eyes closed, letting the last echoes dissolve.
The black-haired beauty had silent tears tracing paths down her perfect cheeks.
Around the room, other girls were doing the same.
[Name: Chizuru Minamoto]
[Threat Level: S(Kitsune)]
(Chizuru's POV)
At the climax of Tsukune's performance on the acting stage, she held her chest, her little heart beating faster, and her mind was also in turmoil as she picked up new nuances from Tsukune as she focused her full senses on him.
'How could a human be allowed inside the Academy? That is impossible taking in consideration all the Magical Wards installed in this pocket dimension.'
'I can also feel the presence of a Sacred Gear from him. Is this another scheme of that old man? Is it Nurarihyon or is Mikogami's plans to integrate Sacred Gear wielders with us Yokai?'
'I can't tell, but this piece of news has to be verified with Yasaka-sama.'
'I also can't lose out on the chance of approaching this guy, if my suspicion is right. I'll rather set my sights on special human who might posses the Soul of a Mythical Hero, than to marry that insufferable guy, Kuyo.'
In her eyes, his appearance became more handsome than any human kpop idol.
'Was this love? Love at first sight? It should be, but why did it worked in such strange ways?'
'Ohh, by Amaterasu-sama, what has happened with me?'
'I'm getting horny at only the possibility that this guy might be the reincarnation of a human Hero?'