The shift was quiet but unmistakable.
Tiche stood at the threshold of Sam's room, arms crossed, blocking it like a guardian gate. Her posture never changed, but her presence alone was deterrent enough.
Rias's group—eight strong—had been shuffled back into the living room, herded gently but firmly by Tiche's expressionless resolve. No one argued.
By the time the door clicked shut behind them, Tiche was already back at her post, arms folded in front of Sam's room like she'd never left it.
They stood or sat as space allowed, casting glances toward the closed door behind which Sam presumably dressed. Momo remained by the wall, glancing occasionally at the books lined neatly in a shelf. Kiba sat with the patience of someone who had been through stranger situations. Akeno hovered near the window, gaze distant but alert. Koneko perched on the arm of the couch, arms folded, brows drawn.
No one spoke. But something else did.
The scent was stronger here.
In the enclosed space of the living room—without fresh air or distance—it wrapped around them. Not like perfume, but like a memory. Each person caught something different. The warmth of old paper. The hush of rain-soaked stone. Lavender. Tea. Sunlight on skin. It was intimate without meaning to be, evocative in ways they couldn't explain.
For most, it was just a passing sense—comforting, grounding, strange.
But for others, it pressed more insistently.
Koneko's pupils dilated subtly before she blinked hard. Akeno's tongue flicked across her lip without thought. Even Rias found herself exhaling slowly, trying to reset her own rhythm.
No one said anything.
The door creaked open.
"I'm decent," came Sam's voice—hoarse, but steady.
Tiche stepped aside without a word.
They filed in again—slower this time. More hesitant. The air inside Sam's room was even heavier than before. Like it had been steeped in that scent, steeped in his presence.
Sam now sat on the edge of his bed. Still bandaged, still pale—but upright. A loose hoodie hung over his frame, zipped up halfway. He'd pulled on a pair of sweatpants. His expression was composed, but the tremble in his fingers where they gripped the edge of the mattress betrayed the effort it took just to be vertical.
Even in silence, the air worked against them.
The scent that had teased them in the living room now coiled heavier in this closer space—no longer passive, but enveloping. It wasn't overpowering; it never tried to be. But it made everything feel warmer. Softer. Like they belonged here, or wanted to.
For most of them, it was barely noticeable—a sweetness they couldn't name but didn't want to leave behind. A memory of comfort, a feeling of being near something—or someone—they didn't want to lose.
For some, it meant more.
Koneko's fingers flexed once, grounding herself. Akeno's breathing slowed slightly, lips parted unconsciously. Even Rias glanced once toward the open window, as if trying to recalibrate.
None of them could have named the cause. None of them knew they were being affected at all.
But something in the room shifted.
Not enough to overpower reason. Not enough to command loyalty. Just enough to make letting go feel harder than it should.
Sam gestured to the few chairs that Tiche had already brought in from the kitchen. "If you're gonna grill me, you might as well get comfortable."
"Grill you?" Sona echoed, arching a brow.
"Well," Sam said, easing back into the pillow set up behind him, "I don't imagine you're here to compliment my home decor."
That got a few twitch-smiles from Akeno and Momo. Kiba stayed still. Koneko's expression remained unreadable.
Rias crossed her arms, eyes narrowing slightly. "You were attacked by Fallen Angels. You nearly died. We need to know why."
Sam met her gaze evenly. "So do I."
Chairs had been brought in from the kitchen, though not everyone sat. Rias stood closest, red hair gleaming under the light, her arms crossed and gaze sharp with tension. Akeno flanked her, as poised as ever, though her fingers toyed absently with the edge of her sleeve. Koneko leaned against the doorframe with her usual unreadable expression, though her eyes never left Sam.
Sona's faction stood opposite—clinical and reserved. She took in everything with a calculating gaze, arms folded with practiced detachment. Tsubaki held a tablet for notes. Momo and Yura kept slightly behind, though their attentions were locked.
The atmosphere was warm—too warm. The close proximity made the Perfumer effect thick in the air now, barely perceptible but undeniably present. Scents tailored to memory and instinct clung to each visitor. And though Lethal Charm was diluted to fractions of its full force, it still nudged at Akeno's breath and Koneko's posture like a velvet hook beneath the skin.
Rias broke the silence.
"Tell me exactly what happened that night."
Sam's answer came clear and level. "I was training. Testing my limits. Trying to get used to some new abilities that popped up."
"Why were the Fallen targeting you?"
"I have no idea. One of them said it was orders from the higher-ups. That's all I got."
"Do you have any connections to the Church or any other faction?"
"None. I didn't even know this kind of stuff existed until a few days ago."
Rias narrowed her eyes slightly, a beat of hesitation flickering in her voice.
"Has anyone approached you—before the attack—with threats? Or offers?"
"No. Not even a shady salesman."
Akeno tilted her head, eyes narrowing.
"You looked like you were protecting someone. Who was it?"
"Myself," Sam said, not flinching. "Wasn't exactly in the mood to be murdered."
That got a faint smile from Akeno—sharp and unreadable.
Rias's voice softened. "Why didn't you come to me sooner—when you realized something was wrong?"
"I didn't know something was wrong," Sam replied. "Not until the lightning started flying and someone tried to stab me in the face."
Sona's voice slid into the pause that followed, cold and precise.
"You should be hospitalized. What are you?"
"I'm built different," Sam said simply, tone flat.
Tsubaki's eyes narrowed slightly behind her glasses, but she said nothing.
"Were you involved in anything supernatural before arriving here?" Sona asked.
"No," Sam said. "Just school, training, surviving."
"Did the attacker say anything during the fight?"
"Besides the usual bad guy monologue? Just that it came from someone higher up. Orders to kill me."
Yura leaned in slightly.
"Any idea why the other three Fallen ran instead of finishing the job?"
"They didn't expect company," Sam replied, nodding subtly toward Tiche. "Didn't go the way they planned."
Momo hesitated before speaking.
"Were you marked in any way? A sigil? Curse?"
"Nope."
Tsubaki adjusted her glasses again.
"How did you survive injuries like that?"
Sam shrugged. "Told you. Built different."
There was a pause. The room held its breath.
Tiche's eyes flicked between the factions, unimpressed.
A silence settled in the wake of Sam's final answer—thick, tense, and unusually human despite the supernatural weight in the room.
Then came a voice.
Cool. Final.
"That's enough."
Tiche stepped forward from her spot at the wall. Her eyes were sharp, not unkind—but very much done. Her presence, usually passive and quiet like a blade sheathed on the table, had shifted.
"I let you ask your questions," she said, tone level. "But he's recovering, not giving a press conference."
Her gaze swept from Sona's cold calculation to Rias's commanding stance. "You've got what you came for. You can either talk in the other room or leave."
A ripple of tension flicked through the group.
Before Rias or Sona could respond—
"We'll talk in the other room."
The voice came soft. Low.
Koneko.
All eyes turned.
Even Akeno blinked in surprise, the corner of her mouth twitching. Tsubaki arched an eyebrow. Yura looked subtly amused.
Koneko's face was blank, but her ears twitched—once—betraying something deeper.
Whether it was the Perfumer-laced atmosphere or the residual echo of Lethal Charm's passive nudge, no one could quite tell. But for once, her voice didn't come with cold disinterest—it came with a thread of quiet insistence. As if she didn't want to leave, but knew she should.
Tiche gave her a look—not approval, exactly. But acknowledgement.
Rias gave a small nod, motioning for her group to stand.
One by one, they filtered out.
Akeno brushed her fingers through her hair, stealing one last glance at Sam with a mischievous smirk that didn't quite reach her eyes.
Momo hesitated, then followed Yura. Kiba gave a courteous nod. Tsubaki took mental notes behind a veil of decorum.
Sona was the last to move, her analytical eyes flicking once toward Sam, then toward Tiche—calculating. Measuring.
Then she turned.
Tiche remained by the door, watching them go. Her hand hovered briefly near the frame—not a threat, just presence. As the last of them crossed into the living room, she followed, gaze steady.
"I'll keep an eye on them." Her voice was quiet, but carried the kind of weight that didn't need to be loud. "Just in case one of them thinks about getting clever."
And then she was gone, the door clicking softly shut behind her.
The living room held a quiet weight as everyone settled. The scent that had clung to the hallway and Sam's room still lingered faintly here—soft and warm, like their favorite comfort pressed into memory. It wasn't overpowering, but it was present, lulling sharp thoughts just slightly at the edges.
Sona folded her hands in her lap. "He's been marked," she said simply, as though it were a diagnosis. "Whether the orders came from a rogue or a higher-up, the attack alone guarantees he's on someone's radar now."
Rias nodded, her eyes distant. "Which means we can't just pretend he's a bystander anymore."
"Agreed." Sona continued, "He either needs to be relocated to a controlled space… or watched closely. A rotating watch, perhaps."
From her corner, Tiche spoke with quiet finality.
"I stay with him."
Everyone looked her way. She hadn't moved from her spot, arms crossed, leaning against the wall with an expression caught somewhere between indifference and latent threat.
No one questioned whether she could guard him. That wasn't the issue.
Akeno's fingers drummed lightly against her thigh. Her smile stayed, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
Koneko's ears twitched. Her jaw flexed slightly before she muttered, "I'll… volunteer. When I'm free."
Several eyes turned to her.
Even Sona looked faintly surprised. Akeno blinked. Rias gave Koneko a sidelong glance—curious, but not unkind.
"…Noted," Sona said after a pause.
A soft cough drew attention next—Momo, lightly raising her hand halfway. "I'd like to help too," she said quickly, cheeks a little pink. "It's only fair. He got hurt on our territory."
Yura's smirk was immediate, low and knowing. "Only fair, huh?" she murmured, clearly amused.
Then Yura shrugged, gaze sharp but interested. "I'll join the rotation too. Honestly, after hearing what went down…" Her smile widened just a bit. "Fist-fighting a Fallen Angel, claws or no claws? That's got some grit to it. I respect that."
She leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Guy got dirty and lived. That earns points."
Kiba exhaled softly—somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.
Tiche tilted her head slightly but said nothing.
Akeno stepped forward with a soft smile, her voice calm but certain.
"I volunteer as well. Two from Sona's side, two from ours—it seems balanced."
Before anyone else could respond, Rias placed a firm hand on Akeno's arm.
"No."
The refusal was quiet, but absolute.
Akeno blinked, surprised, her brow lifting ever so slightly. "Rias—"
"Not this time," Rias said, eyes still locked on Tiche.
For a moment, something unreadable passed between the two girls. Then Akeno exhaled, slow and silent, and stepped back without further protest. Her smile remained, but the warmth in it cooled just a little.
The room settled again—but this time, something was different.
Sam wasn't just a curiosity anymore.
He was someone to watch.