The late afternoon sun filtered through the windows of Kuoh Academy, casting a warm golden hue on the now-empty classroom. Sam adjusted the strap on his bag and headed for the door, his steps dragging more than usual. Perhaps it was the subtle attention from certain students—the ones who didn't just look at him, but watched. The important ones.
As he stepped into the hall, his pace slowed.
Akeno Himejima stood a few feet away, casually leaning against the wall with her arms folded, one leg crossed slightly over the other. The moment their eyes met, her smile bloomed—teasing, composed, and impossibly confident.
"Going somewhere, Sam?" Her voice was velvet, playful but with an undercurrent that hinted at something more.
Sam quirked an eyebrow, his tone matching her teasing. "Trying to. Though I wasn't expecting an ambush from the school idol. Should I be flattered or worried?"
Akeno chuckled, stepping forward with fluid grace. "Worried? Oh no. If I wanted you worried, you'd already know."
A strange electric charge buzzed between them, so faint Sam almost doubted it. But it was there—subtle, just at the edges of his awareness, like static clinging to his skin. His Lightning Claws stirred quietly within him, dormant yet aware of her presence.
She stopped just a breath away, and Sam could have sworn he saw a flicker of curiosity in her eyes.
"Rias would like to speak with you," she said, her tone smooth but with an edge of something else. "She's curious."
"Only curious?" Sam replied, his lips quirking into a wry grin as he fell into step beside her. "I must be losing my touch."
Akeno's soft laugh was like a bell ringing in a quiet room. "Don't worry. I think you'll have a chance to impress her."
Their footsteps echoed quietly down the corridor, but there was something more between them—an unspoken awareness, a resonance that neither addressed, but both felt.
And the air, faintly, still smelled of ozone.
Akeno walked a step ahead, her posture graceful but unhurried, letting her presence guide Sam rather than demand. The main building of Kuoh Academy faded behind them as they stepped outside, the golden afternoon sunlight stretching long shadows across the pavement. The air was warm, tinged with early autumn—and something else.
She glanced at Sam out of the corner of her eye. He followed without protest, composed, but there was something in his stillness. He was too alert, like a hunter waiting to spring.
A small, knowing smile curved her lips.
They crossed the small garden path leading to the Old School Building, its worn stone walls standing separate from the rest of the campus. It looked almost abandoned—save for the aura that clung to it, subtle but unmistakable to those attuned to its presence.
Her senses sharpened, not overtly, but enough to confirm what she'd already suspected. There it was again.
That faint pressure in the air, like the deep hum before a storm, quiet yet unmistakable. A crackling undercurrent that stirred in the air. It wasn't holy. Not demonic. Not divine.
Electric.
It reminded her of the air before a lightning strike—when everything tensed without realizing it. That strange, latent potential hanging just out of reach.
She let her voice drift back toward him, lilting, almost teasing. "You're rather calm for someone being summoned out of the blue."
"Isn't panicking bad form in front of the school's most dangerous woman?" Sam replied smoothly, his tone never breaking.
Akeno chuckled softly. "You flatter me. But I'm not the dangerous one."
"Let me guess," Sam said, his voice light but pointed. "Red hair. Eyes that see through lies."
"Mmm. You are paying attention," Akeno replied, her smile widening as she glanced sideways at him. "But then again, I thought you might be."
Sam kept his gaze forward, but Akeno noticed the flicker in his expression. He was cataloguing everything—his steps, his breathing, the way the air shifted. Calm, but never off guard. A perfect mimic of the vigilance she'd seen in many before him.
The faint thrum of static in the air wasn't a spell, nor a sacred aura. Not yet. But it was there. Buried. Straining against the surface.
She wondered if he felt it, too. If he even knew what it meant.
They ascended the short steps to the side door of the building. The handle creaked under Akeno's touch, and a rush of aged wood and distant incense greeted them, like the exhale of a long-held breath.
Inside, waiting, was the beginning of something.
Sam didn't know it yet.
But Akeno did.
Their walk ended at the Old School Building, now quiet in the late afternoon sunlight. The air here was cooler despite the sunlight that still bathed the campus. Sam followed her up the worn steps and through the double doors without a word, keeping himself composed but alert. Akeno led him through the halls with the same teasing grace she always carried, her presence like a soft, constant pull.
They paused in front of a heavy door marked with an old brass plate.
"After you," she offered, holding the door open with a soft smile.
Sam stepped inside.
The first thing he noticed was the smell. Old wood, polished floors, faint incense. The room had an air of antiquity about it—less like a typical clubroom and more like a Victorian parlor. Dim lighting, velvet chairs, heavy curtains.
And there, sitting regally on the couch in the center, was Rias Gremory. Her crimson hair gleamed in the low light, and her posture was poised, yet her sharp gaze held a quiet intensity.
To her left stood Kiba, the tall blond boy, with a princely bearing. His calm presence gave off an air of nobility, even in the casual setting. Off to the side, near the window, a small girl with white hair watched him with unreadable golden eyes, her expression as still as a statue.
The tension in the room wasn't overt, but it hung in the air like an unspoken promise. Sam felt it, like stepping onto a stage without knowing the script.
"You must be Sam," Rias said, her voice warm but practiced, as if she had said those words many times before. "I'm Rias Gremory. Thank you for joining us."
"Akeno said you were curious." Sam gave a slight nod, matching her tone. "I figured it'd be rude not to hear you out."
That earned a faint smile from Rias. "Polite. I like that."
"Please," she gestured to the chair opposite her. "Have a seat."
Sam did so, slowly, his posture straight but relaxed. He noticed the way the others subtly shifted—Kiba straightened, Koneko narrowed her eyes just slightly, and Akeno moved to stand behind Rias, her hands folded at her waist.
Sam's senses picked up something faint again, a prickle of static—but this time, it wasn't just Akeno. The air itself felt heavier, thick with power or expectation, something Sam couldn't quite place. It was as though every corner of the room was watching him, waiting for something to happen.
That memory tugged at the edges of his thoughts—the system's earlier ping, that subtle notification about earning the trust of "devils." He wasn't sure why, but the pieces were falling into place.
"I've been meaning to ask," Rias began, her tone casual but probing, "you're… not exactly like other students, are you?"
"Is anyone at this school?" Sam replied with a half-smile, testing the waters.
Kiba chuckled softly. Rias's smile deepened. "Touché."
A few more questions followed—where he was from, how he was adjusting, if anything had felt unusual since enrolling. Sam deflected with careful honesty, offering just enough truth to stay credible, but never letting on too much.
But even so, he could feel them testing the edges.
Koneko kept looking at him—not just watching, but sensing him. Her golden eyes flickered with something he couldn't quite identify. Something about him didn't sit right with her. Or maybe it did. Her nose wrinkled slightly, but she didn't speak.
Sam met her gaze for a second. A flicker of something passed between them—unspoken, but clear. And again… that faint pressure.
The same stirring he'd felt near Akeno. Something in him had shifted, but was it his own power, or something else?
Akeno's expression shifted subtly, but Sam didn't look at her. He didn't need to. He could feel it—the weight of their scrutiny.
When the questions tapered off, Rias stood. "Thank you for humoring us, Sam. It's not every day someone new draws our attention."
"You've got a lot of attention to give," Sam replied, rising from his seat. "Hope I didn't disappoint."
Rias gave him a soft look, the curve of her lips betraying little emotion. "We'll see."
Kiba nodded respectfully. Koneko's gaze was sharp but silent.
Akeno, who had remained unusually quiet throughout the exchange, finally stepped forward again.
"I'll walk you out," she said, her voice lighter than before.
Sam gave a polite nod to the others and followed her out of the room. The air lightened slightly once they left, the subtle weight of scrutiny peeling away behind them.
They exited the building together, descending the stairs and heading toward the front gate. It wasn't until they were clear of the main building that Akeno spoke again.
"You did well," she said, her tone a bit more genuine now. "Most people would've cracked under Rias's gaze."
Sam gave a small shrug. "Figured panicking wouldn't help my case."
Akeno tilted her head, her gaze studying him. "You're either very composed… or very good at pretending."
"Why not both?"
She laughed again, quietly. "I suppose we'll see."
They reached the front gates, and she stopped, allowing him to walk ahead.
"Until next time," she said breezily.
Sam didn't answer immediately. He offered a short, polite nod and then turned, walking off campus. The buzz in his blood still faint but unmistakable.
It wasn't just nerves.
It wasn't just intuition.
Something in that room had recognized something in him.
And he had a feeling they weren't going to let it go.
The door clicked softly shut behind Akeno and Sam, and their footsteps faded down the hall, leaving behind a lingering silence in the Occult Research Club room. It settled over them like a heavy curtain, thick with unspoken thoughts.
Rias remained seated, her gaze lingering on the door for a moment longer before it lowered to her teacup. She took a slow sip, savoring the warmth, before gently setting it back down on its saucer. Her posture was elegant as always, but there was a stillness to her—a moment of careful consideration.
"He's not what he seems," she murmured, almost to herself.
Kiba stood near one of the bookshelves, his arms loosely crossed. He was silent for a moment before speaking, his voice thoughtful. "He was calm," he said, the words weighing the air. "Too calm. Not quite like someone trained for combat… but definitely not ordinary."
Rias nodded, a slight frown tugging at the corners of her lips. "His energy was strange," she agreed softly. "It was dipped in something holy… but also—" She paused, eyes narrowing slightly, trying to capture the elusive nature of it. "Suppressed. Constrained. It's as if it's not allowed to surface completely."
Kiba's brow furrowed. "He wasn't scared," he added, his voice calm but observant. "Wary, but not panicking. He was… calculating. Like he was trying to read us as much as we were reading him."
From the couch, Koneko's quiet voice broke through, soft but full of something heavy. "It's buried."
Rias and Kiba both turned to her. Koneko didn't look at either of them, her golden eyes still fixed on the spot where Sam had stood earlier. She stared at the floor, eyes narrowed slightly as if peering into the very fabric of the room.
"The energy," she continued, her voice low, almost distant, "It's not broken. Not twisted. Just… pushed down."
A long silence stretched between them, until Koneko added almost to herself, "It was familiar."
Rias's gaze sharpened, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "From earlier today?"
Koneko gave a small nod. "When he passed by me. I felt something. Same kind of resonance… but weaker then."
Rias leaned back in her chair, fingers steepling beneath her chin. "Something is shielding him. Or he's shielding himself. But that kind of energy—it doesn't just appear on its own."
"Could he be connected to someone from above?" Kiba asked, the thought crossing his mind. "A blessing, maybe?"
Rias shook her head slowly. "Maybe. But it doesn't feel granted. It feels innate. Natural. Like it's part of him… and yet, not."
Koneko's brow furrowed slightly, her gaze flickering between the others. "You think he's being watched?"
Rias's expression softened slightly, but there was still an edge to her voice. "I think," she said carefully, "that someone has already touched his fate—and we're only just catching the echoes of it."
Another pause. Then, decisively, she stood.
"Don't provoke him," Rias instructed, her voice firm but tempered with a measured calm. "Not unless he gives us a reason. For now, we observe."
Kiba nodded respectfully. "Understood."
Koneko said nothing, but her gaze lingered a moment longer on the door, her golden eyes filled with unspoken thoughts.
As Rias turned toward the window, the last orange traces of the sun bled through the glass, casting long shadows across the polished floor.
The tension in the air still remained—not of conflict, but of something yet to unfold.
And for the first time in a long while, Rias Gremory felt the faint but undeniable pull of something unknown entering their world.
The late-day sun dipped just enough to paint the old school grounds in dusky gold as Sam crossed the main gates. Kuoh Academy's silhouette faded behind him, and he exhaled slowly, finally alone.
Almost.
Ping.
A mechanical chime echoed inside his mind like a cold drop of water sliding down his spine. His Chaos Gacha System window flared to life in front of him, shimmering faintly against the real world like an augmented reality HUD.
NEW SYSTEM FUNCTION UNLOCKED
[Relationship Tracker] now online.
All social bonds are now being monitored.
Numerical values represent current affinity status.
"…You have got to be kidding me," Sam muttered, halting mid-step.
Analyzing current relationships…
Gremory, Rias — 17 (Friends)
Himejima, Akeno — 19 (Friends)
Toujou, Koneko — 6 (Friendly)
Kiba, Yuuto — 8 (Friendly)
Shinra, Tsubaki — 4 (Friendly)
Sitri, Sona — 5 (Friendly)
Hanakai, Momo — 10 (Friends)
Yura, Tsubasa — 6 (Friendly)
Tiche — 31 (Love – Complicated)
There was a beat of silence as Sam stared, stone-faced, at the glowing window.
"…I'm in a dating sim," he said aloud, voice flat.
Another beat.
Then, he visibly recoiled, shaking his head violently as if trying to ward off a demonic possession.
"No. Nope. Absolutely not. I didn't sign up for affection spreadsheets!"
Sam swiped at the floating UI fruitlessly. It hovered dutifully, mocking him with cold numbers.
"Tiche," he called, voice strained. "Tell me this is a glitch. Or a prank. I'll even take a virus. Just… something."
A low flicker of red-black mist coiled into view near his shoulder, resolving into the armored, crimson-eyed familiar.
"No prank," she said flatly, arms folded. "The system is responding to your exposure to key individuals. The tracker ensures their relevance to your development."
"Oh great. Now I'm an emotionally evolving gacha card." Sam dragged a hand down his face. "What's next? Gift events? Affection milestones?"
Tiche was silent, her stare unreadable.
"…There are affection milestones, aren't there."
"I was instructed not to reveal that."
Sam groaned audibly and stopped walking, gripping his head with both hands. "Why couldn't it have been a combat tracker? A training montage system? Something normal for a freaky superpower lottery?!"
The system cheerfully blinked.
Notice: Emotional distress detected. Relationship Tracker may be paused if instability continues.
"Oh now you're concerned?" Sam growled. "Where was this emotional check when I was being clawed to death by a devil in an alley, huh?!"
Tiche raised an eyebrow.
"Devotion levels rising," the system chimed.
Sam froze. Slowly, dreadfully, he looked toward the screen.
Tiche — 31 → 32
His mouth parted in horror.
"…You're not even real, you're a magical featurette designed to bully me into survival and now you're—what is this, a route?!"
Tiche tilted her head slightly. "If I were a route, you'd already be dead."
He nearly sobbed.
They walked in silence for a few steps before Sam muttered under his breath, "I'm going to need a therapist. Or an exorcist. Or both."
Tiche's response was quiet but sharp. "Grow stronger first. Then earn the luxury of self-pity."
He sighed, rubbing at his eyes. "I miss the days when my biggest problem was forgetting to do my homework."
By the time Sam reached his apartment, the sky had slipped into deeper hues of blue and orange, the streetlamps flickering on with mechanical sighs. He unlocked the door, stepped inside, and let it click shut behind him like a seal between two worlds.
Silence greeted him.
He dropped his bag by the entryway, peeled off his blazer, and made a slow path to the bathroom, like a soldier coming home from war. One hand raked through his hair, the other tapping nervously against his leg.
The image of the Relationship Tracker was still burned behind his eyes. The numbers. The labels. The rising Devotion score from Tiche.
Sam muttered under his breath, "Just a fluke. Some kind of… mechanical exaggeration. Yeah. Nothing's real until I kiss somebody and fireworks go off. Which won't happen. Because I'm sane."
Steam filled the air minutes later as he stood under the hot spray of the shower, trying to scrub the psychic grime off his soul. The water was scalding, but it helped.
He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the tile wall.
It wasn't the system that rattled him most. It was the truth underneath the absurdity.
He was being watched. Measured. Assessed by people he barely knew. Some of whom wielded powers that could snap him in half. The numbers were just the system catching up to a reality he'd already sensed: he was on a stage he didn't audition for.
Sam stayed in the shower long past when the water began to cool.
Eventually, he shut it off, stepped out into the dim bathroom, and toweled off. Droplets ran down his shoulders and spine, but he ignored them as he stared into the foggy mirror.
He didn't want to be in a dating sim. He didn't even want to be in a supernatural world.
But he was.
And if he didn't fight to keep ahead of it, he'd drown in it.
He stepped out into the hallway, muscles loose but mind sharp with the burn of internal friction. The apartment lights hummed softly. The air was cooler now.
Tiche appeared without being called—more smoke than substance at first, then solidifying into her armored form, crimson eyes cutting through the low light.
"You need to train," she said simply.
Sam didn't answer.
Instead, he flexed his right hand.
With a hiss and crackle, the Lightning Claws bloomed—white-blue arcs of energy folding into five gleaming edges of volatile power, the room briefly lit with their glow. The edges sparked once. Then twice.
Tiche's gaze didn't shift, but her posture changed—subtly approving.
Sam let the claws fizzle out a second later, his arm falling to his side.
She didn't say anything else.
She didn't need to.
They both knew: tomorrow, it would be back to work. And no system mechanic—no matter how absurd—was going to distract him from surviving what came next.
The Relationship Tracker pinged again.
Tiche — 32 → 33
Sam blinked at the hovering window, deadpan.
"…Seriously?"
No answer. Just a flicker. Then silence.