[Student Council Room – Late Afternoon]
The door creaked open slowly.
"You're back."
Iruma turned from the window, his gaze narrowing slightly. Standing in the doorway was Azazel Ameri, upright, her full student council uniform pressed and neat. The commanding presence was back… or so it seemed.
"Ameri."
She stepped in with quiet resolve, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"I thought… maybe if I wore this again, I'd feel like myself."
Her voice was composed, but Iruma noticed the way her shoulders lowered just a little — hesitation under the surface.
She took another step, and the mask slipped. That sharp aura softened. Her eyes wavered.
The usual steel in her voice was gone. The president… wasn't really back.
Iruma said nothing. He simply observed.
She moved past him, sitting at the end of the long table, her fingers lacing together on the desk.
"The election's close. The others are already ahead. I hear what they say… that I've changed. That I'm not fit to lead."
She stared at the empty seats before her.
"I tried to do something about it. But I haven't led. Not really. You're the one who's been doing everything — asking questions, keeping this place from falling apart."
Iruma's arms stayed crossed, his back to the light, face unreadable.
She raised a hand before he could speak.
"I know what you'll say." Her tone was bitter. "That it's okay. That I just need time. But if I fall now… the others fall with me. I can't let them carry the weight of my failure."
Her voice cracked slightly. "So I thought… maybe I should just quit. Leave it behind. Be normal. Go to class. Laugh with friends. With you."
Silence.
Iruma stepped forward. His voice was calm, low — not comforting, but absolute.
"That's escapism. Not freedom."
Ameri's eyes widened. She looked up.
He stared down at her with the same cold focus he used in battle.
"You were never normal. And you never needed to be."
He glanced at the table, then back at her.
"The others still follow you. Not because you're perfect. But because you never stop trying — even now."
A pause.
"Strength isn't acting like nothing's wrong. It's admitting when it is... and standing up anyway."
He stepped closer.
"You break? You fall? Then you get up. That's what a leader does."
Ameri looked at him, stunned. Her fingers slowly loosened their grip.
"You're not doing this alone. Grave. Smoke. Quichelight. They haven't left."
A shadow crossed Iruma's expression.
"Neither have I."
Ameri bit her lip, turning her face away.
"Tch... You really know how to make someone feel Embarrassed, you know that?"
Iruma gave a faint smirk. Just a flicker.
"I'm not here to flatter you."
She stood up slowly, the tension in her shoulders fading as she straightened her jacket. Her gaze sharpened.
"Fine. I'll fight for it." Her tone returned to its usual weight. "But I'll need your help."
Iruma gave her a firm nod.
"You'll have it."
---
[Central Courtyard – Afternoon Light Filtering Through]
The Netherworld's crimson sky cast dappled shadows across the courtyard, the air warm and still. Clara Valac skipped along the brick path, a determined glint in her mismatched eyes and a comically large notebook clutched in her hands. Its pages were covered in chaotic doodles, swirling arrows, and dramatic question marks.
"Hmm hmm hmm~ Where are you, you game-snatching sneak?" she muttered, lips pursed in exaggerated thought. "C'mon, suspicious borrower… Show your face already!"
Rounding the fountain, she smacked right into someone's chest.
"Gwaaah!"
"Oof—Valac?!"
Clara bounced back like a spring. "Azzie!! You're not the borrower, right? Or ARE you!?" She pointed a finger dramatically at him.
Asmodeus brushed dust from his coat with a sigh. "Of course not. And please watch where you're going." His eyes narrowed. "Wait. Are you investigating something too?"
Clara beamed and spun her notebook around to show him a wild web of connections. "Yup! Someone borrowed a super weird game from my Battler! They said it was for a 'psychological experiment' and then just—poof—disappeared! The other club members said the guy was super polite, but nobody remembers his face!"
Asmodeus's eyes sharpened. "That sounds… disturbingly familiar." He lowered his voice. "I've been tracking someone who made a false request for restricted illusion crystals. They distort mental perception — especially dangerous for demons under stress."
Clara tilted her head like a curious puppy. "Wait… your weird magic rocks and my weird brain game… Are they part of the same weird… weirdness!?"
Asmodeus nodded gravely. "It's likely. If someone is combining a conditioning game with illusion magic, they could manipulate behavior… without the victim realizing it."
Clara gasped. "That's… super evil! Like turning someone into a zombie—but a polite zombie!"
"That's not how I would've phrased it, but yes," Azz replied flatly. His mind was already racing. "And considering the timing… it could explain the President's recent change in behavior."
Clara tapped her chin thoughtfully. "You mean how she's been all fluttery and weird lately? Like she's trying to be two people at once?"
"Exactly," Azz said with a solemn nod.
A breeze swept through the courtyard, sending a few red leaves spiraling through the air.
Then Clara snapped her fingers. "Oh! I was just about to sneak into the Game Battler's room and check their logs! Wanna come? I brought snacks~!" She pulled out a crumpled bag of crispy treats from her pocket.
Asmodeus sighed deeply. "That's… absolutely against protocol. But yes. Let's go."
Clara lit up. "Yay! Investigation buddies~!"
"For Iruma-sama… and for the President," Azz added with conviction, ignoring the way Clara had already started skipping ahead.
They walked off together, one skipping, one stalking — both unaware that the truth they were chasing… was darker than they imagined.
--
[Babyls Grand Auditorium – Day of the Dissolution Election]
A tense hush fell over the Grand Auditorium, the murmurs of a thousand students swelling beneath the lofty arches. Hovering broadcast imps zipped through the air, capturing the moment from every angle for the entire campus to witness.
In the spotlight stood Baraki, his usual deadpan replaced by solemnity and a touch of theatrical gravitas.
"Demons of Babyls—today we mark the Student Council Dissolution Election! A battle not of fists… but of leadership, pride, and desire!"
The crowd erupted into applause, some cheering wildly, others leaning forward with nervous energy. Eyes darted between the stage and the candidates waiting in the wings.
Would Azazel Ameri reclaim her title? Or would the ever-theatrical Ronove Romière dance away with the crown?
Baraki straightened his scroll. "First—our flamboyant challenger… Ronove Romière!"
[Ronove's Speech – Enter the Peacocking Prince]
Rose petals exploded in a cyclone of glittering magic. With a twirl and a wink, Ronove Romière made his grand entrance, a cape stitched with peacock eyes trailing dramatically behind him. His every step oozed charisma like perfume.
"Behold, my adoring masses!" he declared, striking a pose. "Your shining star has arrived to bring fabulousness back to Babyls!"
A wave of sparkles burst from his hand. "Charisma!" he sang, and the air shimmered with golden energy. Laughter and awe flooded the hall as he burst into a full-blown musical number.
"Every day should be a party, detention should be a dance! Let's paint the halls with rainbows, give boredom no chance!"
Students clapped to the rhythm, some waving lightsticks summoned purely for the aesthetic.
Backstage, Iruma blinked, half-smiling.
"He's really going all out," he mumbled.
"He's ridiculous,"Smoke said flatly, arms crossed.
Grave narrowed his eyes. "But his magic's effective. The students are practically hypnotized."
Ronove ended his performance with a flamboyant bow, showering the front rows with roses and glitter before blowing a kiss to the balcony.
Baraki re-entered the stage, visibly squinting at the mess. "…Thank you, Ronove-sama."
Then he turned, voice steady.
"And now, our current Student Council President… Azazel Ameri."
[Ameri's Speech – The Fog Lifts]
No petals. No music. Just the crimson spotlight falling on Azazel Ameri, standing tall in her traditional cape and gloves. Her footsteps echoed as she crossed the stage—measured, deliberate.
But the audience was still buzzing from Ronove's show.
Someone giggled. Another student shouted, "Sing us a song, President!"
A few whistles cut through the air.
Ameri flinched. Just slightly.
"I… am Azazel Ameri. Your current President."
The noise rose again. Laughter. A few sarcastic cheers. Doubt crept in — not from them, but from within.
She lowered her gaze.
…I can't even speak properly, she muttered. I'm… weak.
That word echoed in her mind — 'weak.'
But instead of breaking her, the word settled.
And then something clicked.
So what?
Her heart slowed. Her breath calmed. A warmth kindled in her chest—not pride, but clarity.
She raised her head, her aura subtly flaring — not flashy, not showy, but solid like steel beneath velvet.
"Demons…" she began, her voice calm but cutting through the crowd like a blade. "…are creatures of desire."
The auditorium fell quiet.
"We don't thrive on comfort. We hunger. We chase. We fight—not because we're unafraid… but because what we desire is worth the fear."
Each word struck like a heartbeat.
"I lost myself. I faltered. But my desire remains—the desire to protect this school, this council… and the person who reminded me of my strength."
Backstage, Iruma stiffened, breath catching. His eyes locked on her silhouette.
"This is the real Ameri..." he whispered.
Onstage, Ameri's eyes scanned the crowd, softer now. Not pleading—honest.
"And so… I apologize. To all of you. For confusing you, for being distant."
"But in the chaos, I discovered something I had hidden from even myself."
She placed a hand to her chest.
"I've… fallen in love."
The room went silent.
You could've heard a pin drop—or a thousand jaws hitting the floor.
Even Baraki fumbled his cue cards, blinking rapidly.
Backstage, Iruma's face turned a vivid crimson. "Wh… huh!?"
Ameri didn't waver. Her cheeks were pink, yes—but her eyes blazed with resolve.
"With someone who never stopped believing in me. Someone whose kindness… ignites courage in others."
Gasps. Whispered names. The auditorium stirred like a brewing storm.
Iruma pressed a hand to his mouth, trying not to faint.
Clara, watching from the audience, shrieked. "IRUUUMAAA-CHIIII!! IT'S YOUUUU!!"
Asmodeus sighed with a fond, knowing smile. "It's always been him."
Back onstage, Ameri gave one final, dignified nod.
"So I stand here… no longer afraid. Not because I'm perfect. But because I've embraced my desire to protect, to lead… and to love."