The next day.
The student council room was quiet as usual.
Sona sat at her desk, papers neatly stacked, pen in hand, posture straight and composed.
That unreadable, professional look on her face. Sometimes I wondered if she ever let it slip.
"Souna-kaichou," I called casually, leaning against the doorway. "Got a moment?"
She looked up and gave a small nod. "Mishima-san. Of course. Come in."
I strolled over and took the seat in front of her desk, dropping into it like I owned the place. (Technically, I didn't, but I could probably buy the chair.)
I strolled over and took the seat in front of her desk, dropping into it like I owned the place.
"My parents want to invite you—and anyone else representing your side—to dinner. You know, formalize things. Talk shop. Shake hands. Sign papers. Smile for a few photos."
Sona blinked. Just for a second. A tiny shift in her expression—so subtle most people wouldn't even notice. But I did.
"A dinner," she repeated, slowly. "I see."
"Nothing too formal," I shrugged. "Just a fancy meal, a few business suits, and my mom subtly interrogating you under the guise of polite conversation. Normal stuff.
Her lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but it looked like her composure almost cracked. Almost.
"And when would this be?" she asked.
"Soon. I wanted to run it by you first, make sure your schedule's free. Didn't want to interrupt any… student council operations. Or, you know, your five-year world domination plan."
She adjusted her glasses, calm and composed again. "I'll confirm with my family. Once I have an exact date, I'll let you know."
"Perfect," I said, giving her a grin. "Just let me know how many guests you're bringing so the chefs don't underestimate. My mom will literally panic if we're short on appetizers."
Another pause.
Then finally—finally—Sona gave the faintest, most controlled smile. "Your mother sounds very thorough."
"She is," I said with mock solemnity. "I've seen her threaten to cancel a dinner over misfolded napkins."
Sona shook her head slightly. "Understood. I'll be sure to relay the information. And thank you for arranging this."
"What can I say?" I leaned back in my seat. "I'm a thoughtful guy."
And then, just to throw her off balance a little, I added with a smirk, "Besides, it'd be a shame to finalize a big partnership like this without at least one candle-lit negotiation, wouldn't you say?"
She blinked. Her back straightened just slightly. "This is strictly business, Mishima."
"Of course it is," I said smoothly. "Strictly. Business."
She looked away for a moment, clearly trying not to react, and I allowed myself a small mental victory.
God, teasing her was dangerously fun.
Anyway, after stepping out of the student council room, guess who I almost collided with in the hallway?
Rias. Freaking. Gremory.
Queen of redheads. Actual walking fan service. Also probably here for devil things, because of course she was.
"You're Leon Mishima-san, right?" she asked, blinking like I'd caught her off guard.
I nodded. "That's me."
She smiled, that soft, elegant kind. "Rias Gremory."
I gave a half-bow. Polite. Cool. Mysterious heir energy. "A pleasure. Though I already know who you are."
"Oh?" she tilted her head. "You do?"
I gave her my best charming smile. "How could I not know about the prettiest girl in school?"
She let out a little laugh. A soft, amused "Ara~" that made it very clear she was used to being flattered, but wasn't immune to it either.
"Flatterer," she said, crossing her arms but not looking away. "Do you say that to all the girls?"
I shrugged. "Only pretty ones."
"Smooth," she said, smiling. "You're a lot different than I expected."
"Different good or different 'I need to be exorcised?'" I asked, keeping the grin.
She laughed again, this time more freely. "I'll let you know after a second conversation."
"Oh? So you're already planning one?"
"Maybe," she teased, brushing past me with a glance over her shoulder.
I stood there for a moment, watching her go, then exhaled.
Okay. Note to self: Rias Gremory is just as dangerous as she is gorgeous. And I might be into that.
Maybe.
Possibly.
Definitely.
I stood there for another moment after Rias disappeared around the corner, trying to collect my thoughts. That was Rias Gremory. The Rias Gremory. And she'd been flirting with me.
Or was I flirting with her?
Both. Definitely both.
"LEONNNN!"
I sighed. That was the sound of jealousy and teenage hormones manifesting as a human being.
"Sup, Issei?" I said, like I had no idea why he was about to have an aneurysm.
"Don't 'sup' me!" he yelled, pointing at me like I'd committed a crime. "I saw you with Rias-senpai!"
I shrugged. "Yeah? We were talking."
"TALKING?" he screeched. "With the school idol? The crimson-haired goddess?"
"Pretty sure she's just a regular student, but okay."
"How?" he demanded, getting all up in my personal space. "How did you do it? What's your secret?"
I took a step back. "Secret to what? Having a conversation?"
The bald one—Matsuda?—jumped in. "We've been trying for two years to get Rias-senpai to notice us!"
"Maybe try something other than peeking into the girls' locker room," I suggested. "Just a thought."
All three of them looked at me like I'd suggested they give up oxygen.
"That's..." Issei sputtered.
"Basic human decency?" I offered.
"IMPOSSIBLE!" they all shouted together.
I couldn't help laughing. These guys were ridiculous, but in a weirdly entertaining way.
"Look," I said, "I gotta jet. But here's some free advice—girls generally prefer guys who don't treat them like walking fantasy material."
Issei straightened up, suddenly looking all determined. "Just you wait, Mishima! One day I'll become the Harem King and you'll regret not sharing your techniques!"
"Harem King?" I repeated. "That's... definitely a life goal."
"It's my destiny!" he said, dead serious. Yeah, it is…
"Right. Well, good luck with that whole... situation." I started walking away. "See ya."
"This isn't over!" he called after me.
"Try showering daily!" I called back. "That's free advice!"
I could hear him having a meltdown behind me. Honestly? Sure, he was a total perv, but at least he owned it.
—
Hayama was waiting with the car, looking as butler-y as ever.
"Yo," I said as I slid into the backseat.
"Young master," he nodded, closing the door. "Eventful day?"
"You could say that." I stretched out on the leather seats. "What's the situation at home?"
Hayama started the car. "Your mother is on her fourth revision of the Shitori dinner menu."
"Let me guess—too basic?"
"I believe her exact words were 'embarrassingly predictable,'" he said, eyes meeting mine in the mirror.
I snorted. "Heaven forbid we serve normal rich people food. The horror."
Was that a slight smile on Hayama's face? Progress!
As we drove through Tokyo, I scrolled through my phone. Sona had texted confirming the dinner. Short. Professional. Very Sona.
Sometimes I still had these moments where I was like, "Is this actually my life now?" One minute I'm working retail and barely making rent, the next I'm a stupid-rich kid with a magic workshop and devils on speed dial.
Wild.
By the time we pulled into the Mishima estate, I'd decided to spend some quality time in the Celestial Workshop tonight. I had some ideas brewing—nothing too crazy, just a little something to help me navigate the whole "surrounded by supernatural beings" situation.
After all, when you're dealing with devils who could probably obliterate you with a finger snap, it's good to have a backup plan.
Even if said devils do look unfairly hot in school uniforms.