Late-season sakura petals danced gracefully down onto the old, moss-covered path, rays of sunlight filtering through autumn leaves like golden fragments scattered on the ground.
The distant breeze carried a gentle chill tinged with the faint aroma of sakura blossoms. Even the sun had lost its scorching summer heat. After all, autumn had truly arrived.
Opening the door of the Occult Research Clubroom, Jeanne Alter was greeted not by familiar faces, but rather by mountains of paperwork piled everywhere—neat stacks of crisp white documents at nearly every person's side.
"What's all this?" Jeanne Alter asked curiously, strolling leisurely into the room with her hands tucked casually in her pockets. Eyeing the exhausted expressions around her, she quipped teasingly, "Haven't even graduated yet, and you're already experiencing the suffering of corporate drones?"
"...Ah, Jeanne-san, you're finally here."
Rias sat at the head of the table, easily the most conspicuous. Her desk, in particular, was buried beneath a daunting amount of paperwork. After hours of continuous effort, she seemed disoriented for a brief moment, rubbing her temples tiredly before regaining composure.
"You're rather late today. Asia and Ophis arrived quite a while ago."
Indeed, Asia and Ophis were also present.
Previously, Jeanne Alter had deliberately kept Ophis away from the clubroom due to Azazel's regular presence as the club's advisor. Given Azazel's position as the leader of the Fallen Angels, the two meeting prematurely could've led to unnecessary complications.
But now, things were different. Azazel had earned the trust of Sirzechs and Jeanne Alter, and he'd already had his fateful meeting with Ophis.
The moment Azazel realized the Infinite Dragon God had quietly settled in Kuoh Town, his expression had been priceless—shock, tension, disbelief, followed finally by a deeply complicated look directed squarely at Jeanne Alter.
Now, the man himself was sitting directly across from Ophis, staring blankly at the petite Dragon God.
A loli and an old pervert staring contest...?
"Azazel, don't bully Ophis, alright?" Jeanne Alter warned gently.
Azazel's face twisted into a mixture of horror and confusion.
"Me? Bully Ophis?" Azazel pointed incredulously at himself, then at Ophis, mouth quivering as he muttered weakly, "I…haven't quite grown suicidal yet."
"Azazel…cannot beat me," Ophis remarked plainly, voice devoid of emotion, merely stating a fact.
They'd met briefly centuries ago, back when Ophis walked the human world disguised as an old man. Azazel had been astonished Ophis even remembered his name—it was extremely rare for the indifferent dragon to recall any individual at all.
"You said you'd be arriving soon. What took you so long?" Azazel brushed off Ophis's blunt remark, turning curiously toward Jeanne Alter instead.
"Ah, I overheard something amusing on the way and stayed a bit longer to gossip," Jeanne Alter explained casually, flopping comfortably onto the plush sofa. Instantly, everyone in the room perked up, interest piqued by anything that wasn't monotonous paperwork.
"What? Gossip? Spill it!" Issei eagerly urged.
A playful smile spread across Jeanne Alter's lips. Just remembering the scene almost made her laugh again.
"On my way here, I saw a guy making a call—let's just call the guy 'Mr. Cool' and the girl he was calling 'Ms. Cute.' Mr. Cool calls Ms. Cute, but a man answers the phone instead. Before Mr. Cool can start cursing, the other man interrupts him—says not to panic, since they're both Ms. Cute's boyfriends, victims kept in the dark."
"Mr. Cool goes quiet for a long moment, then cautiously asks, 'Between us, who's number three?' The voice replies, 'Me, I'm number three.' Mr. Cool obviously relaxes...but here's the fun part."
Jeanne Alter grinned mischievously.
"The man continues: 'You're actually number four. Number five tipped me off. Number six is lovestruck; I told him but he refuses to believe. Number seven is already heading to Ms. Cute's place with a knife—number eight couldn't stop him and asked me for help. Number nine's been abroad, but his plane lands tonight, and number ten isn't answering my calls.'"
Even Jeanne Alter burst into laughter recounting the story, slapping her thigh in amusement.
Though it felt wrong laughing at another's misfortune, the absurdity was just too much—this wasn't even something a drama writer could invent.
Azazel grimaced lightly. "You humans and your relationship games keep getting scarier. Good thing I've long since lost interest in women and dedicated myself to researching [Sacred Gears] instead."
He tilted his head smugly, clearly proud of his "wise" decision.
"Still, Jeanne's little anecdote serves as a valuable reminder: If any of you ever meet someone you're attracted to, be cautious. Don't let yourself get easily fooled." Azazel paused, giving Issei a pointed glance. "Especially you, Issei."
"Me?"
"Obviously you. Your judgment crumbles at the slightest temptation. Even when selecting contract partners, I bet their bust size and shape are your primary criteria."
Issei fell silent, unable to argue.
"Contracts, huh..." Jeanne Alter muttered thoughtfully, picking up a nearby document—essentially a résumé, complete with a photo, personal history, and magical accomplishments.
Gods required faith to survive, while devils thrived by satisfying human desires. Rias and her servants regularly visited humans at night to fulfill wishes and form contracts—exactly how Jeanne Alter herself had initially met Koneko.
However, these contracts were different. They came from human magicians, many of whom sought alliances with devils for knowledge or power. Usually, they preferred older, more experienced devils. But Rias's peerage was too tempting: the Maou's younger sister, a Norse Valkyrie, the daughter of a Fallen Angel cadre, the current Red Dragon Emperor, plus various Sacred Gear wielders—all had drawn immense interest.
Incidentally, after Odin concluded his negotiations in Japan, he'd swiftly returned home—abandoning Rossweisse, the Valkyrie who'd accompanied him. With nowhere else to go, she accepted Rias's generous offer to become a devil.
"Rias's got the most contract offers," Jeanne Alter noted casually, eyeing Rias's enormous pile of paperwork.
"Well, I am the 'King,'" Rias replied wearily. "Those magicians probably think contracting with me means gaining access to my entire peerage."
"Second highest is...Rossweisse?" Jeanne Alter remarked with mild surprise. "She's barely been a devil long. That popular already?"
"It's likely due to her Norse knowledge and magic," Azazel interjected. "Nordic magic is incredibly desirable for those magic freaks. It's understandable."
Jeanne Alter nodded, unsurprised. Compared to magi from her own world, these magicians were practically sane.
Ophis, unnoticed, climbed onto Jeanne Alter's lap, claiming the high ground.
The Infinite Dragon didn't understand embarrassment. She only knew being close to Jeanne Alter felt warm and relaxing.
Shortly after, Koneko also climbed onto Jeanne Alter's lap.
"Done with paperwork already?" Jeanne Alter raised an eyebrow at her kouhai.
"Taking a break. Need to recharge Jeanne-senpai energy," Koneko replied calmly, nestling comfortably against Jeanne Alter.
What's 'Jeanne-senpai energy'? Jeanne Alter wondered silently.
Suddenly, Jeanne Alter felt a soothing pressure against her temples. Tilting her head upward, she met Akeno's gentle eyes.
"Jeanne-san, I recently learned massage techniques. How does this feel?"
"Mm...quite comfortable," Jeanne Alter admitted truthfully, feeling herself relax further.
"I'm glad," Akeno said, smiling radiantly.
"Eh? Eh?" Asia stood dumbfounded, realizing hesitantly that every spot around Jeanne was already taken.
Yet Asia wasn't ready to concede defeat.
"J-Jeanne-san! I—I can give massages too!"
"Oh my," Akeno teased, wrapping arms around Jeanne Alter's neck, pressing softly against her. "Asia-chan, don't overpromise. Massage takes skill, you know. Are you sure you can satisfy Jeanne-san?"
"I—I definitely can!" Asia puffed her cheeks indignantly.
Meanwhile, Koneko glared darkly at Akeno's ample figure. "Useless extra fat."
"My, Koneko, jealous?" Akeno teased playfully.
Amidst their escalating banter, Jeanne Alter found herself spacing out.
Wait, we were discussing massages…right?
Suddenly, Jeanne Alter and Azazel both stiffened simultaneously.
In an instant, the clubroom was engulfed by a thick, white fog, filling every corner swiftly.
"Fog?" Azazel's eyes widened in rage and horror. "Dammit, this is—[Dimension Lost]!"
There was no time to react before the entire clubroom vanished into whiteness.
Moments later, as the fog lifted, Azazel stood alone—twelve black wings unfurled, a spear of light in hand—utterly alone.
Everyone else had disappeared without a trace.