Finally, the ranting was over.
Ezakiel ended Yuta's call and sank into the car seat with a long exhale, his limbs draping loosely as though exhaustion had finally claimed him. The weight of silence after all that pointless noise was almost a luxury.
Outside, the twilight sky stretched wide, painted in bruised streaks of orange and violet, the kind of beauty that mocked anyone trapped beneath it. The city crawled by in sluggish fragments through the glass, horns blaring, engines idling, people moving at the pace of molasses.
He shut his eyes, feeling the minutes drag like hours.
This traffic… how much longer? Twenty minutes, maybe more. I should've been back in my mansion long ago, not wasting time boxed in like this.
He breathed in heavily, then out.
Now… what was the term to express the frustration I'm feeling right now?
He searched for it, but nothing came.
"It's sure a heavy traffic, right, young master?" the driver said, leaning on the horn.
"Yes, yes, it is," Ezakiel replied, yawning.
I don't know why, but I'm getting this sudden urge to kill anyone and everyone within a one-kilometer radius.
Strange.
He found it very strange.
This was the first time he was feeling such an urge.
He had no qualms about killing—he had already done that before—but never once had the craving itself arisen. And now, for the first time since his arrival, it appeared. It had only been a month since his transmigration, after all.
Is my monster side slowly overpowering my human consciousness?
If that were the case, it was deeply troubling. His human side was what kept him rational and calculating in his plans. Without it, he would already have gone on a rampage, and the magical girls would have hunted him down like any other monster, driven only by instinct.
Why did Gaia have to give monsters such a nature… I really need to find a way to deal with this…
"Young master, I really don't think you should sleep like that in the car. You might accidentally hurt your neck," the driver said.
Ezakiel opened his eyes and replied, "Don't worry. I am not weak. No such thing will happen."
Then, without another word, he closed his eyes again.
He focused his thoughts, slipping into the mindscape—his own inner place, a projected state where he could interact with himself, wrestle with urges, and keep from unraveling into irrationality.
One could even call it a kind of mental training. The same sort the magical girls used so they could interact and pretend to be normal in society.
Though "normal" hardly applied to them anyway.
Here we go.
Inside his mindscape, he assumed a yoga meditation pose, though he had forgotten its name—it had been a long time since he last practiced. If he were to describe it, it was the one where you place one leg over the other, with your thumb touching your index finger.
As soon as he settled, the blackness of the mindscape shifted, splitting into two. Above stretched a plain blue sky, dotted with drifting clouds. Below lay a serene expanse of water, perfectly reflecting the clouds above.
Then his body began to shapeshift into his monster form. Since the transformation was happening within his mindscape, it wasn't painful—there was no physical strain. Here, the transformation was more metaphorical, a way to merge with his true self.
As he transformed, rippling waves crossed the serene waters below, droplets floating above and circling around him like a halo.
He took a deep breath in and out, then stood up in his mindscape. The droplets drifted farther away. He raised his hand, stopping them in midair, and began to float. Twisting and swirling his hands, the water droplets followed every motion, orbiting him in perfect synchrony.
Then he rose higher into the air. Clapping his hands together, the droplets slammed into each other with a splash. He slowly parted his hands, drawing the water inward, compressing it until a perfect, cratered sphere of water formed before him.
However, just as sphere was formed it dissolve down as quick.
"I need to have more control," he said, and looking at his plans and then clinging it.
"Have some trouble?"
The voice came from behind him, sudden and sharp, catching him by surprise.
Someone had intruded into his mindscape.
"Who—?"
He turned, and as he did, the background shifted: the sky burned crimson, and the water below turned to dark, flowing blood.
"Well, it's me! The greatest and cutest magical girl of all time, Mari Marisubari!" the intruder announced, her voice cutesy, her expression matching, and her pose exaggeratedly adorable.
What the hell?
He couldn't believe his eyes.
Why, in God's name, is one of the most psychotic magical girls—second only to Tsumi—here, inside my mindscape?
"I never thought I'd see a monster doing mindscape training," Mari said, her voice tinged with surprise. After all, no one would have expected a monster to do such things. "Aren't you all usually just rampaging mindlessly, killing humans?"
"First of all, monsters aren't mindless—well, lower ones perhaps, but not higher ones like myself," Ezakiel replied. "Though that's beside the point. The main question is, what the hell are you doing here, all alone? Aren't you afraid of what I, a monster, might do to your little fragile teenage body?"
"Oh my, are you a… pedophile?" Mari said, putting on a scared expression, hugging herself as if trembling.
"Cut the act. Just get to the point—why are you here?" he asked.
"Well, actually, there's no specific reason," Mari said, twirling a strand of her hair. "I was wandering between mindscapes, seeing which magical girls had left theirs undefended… just to mess with them. Though I didn't expect to run into the infamous big black centipede like this."
"Big Black Centipede?"
"Yes! That's what the Principle decided to call you, though personally I prefer BBC—Big Black Co—"
Ezakiel stopped her before she could finish.
"Seriously, that's a rather vulgar way to speak. Didn't your parents teach you anything?" he asked, deadpan.
"Nah, they didn't," Mari said, placing a finger on her cheek and striking another exaggeratedly cutesy pose. "Dead parents don't really teach much, you know."
I already know that, psycho girl. Your dead parents are the reason you torture orphans in your punishment nest.
"Huh? You know about that?" Mari said, her eyes widening in surprise.
Huh… she can read my thoughts?!
"Yes, I can," she said, her voice calm but firm. "I can read the thoughts of others while in the mindscape." She tilted her head, her expression turning more serious. "But… how did you know it?"
"'Cause I love you?" he said, trying to bullshit his way out.
"Huh?" Mari said, her eyes widening in shock.
What the hell is this monster talking about?
Mari thought, completely baffled by what she had just heard.
It was the first time a monster had confessed to her—not just to her, but to any magical girl.
"I won't hide it anymore. The truth is, I've fallen in love with you," he said. "When I heard from one of the monsters about a psycho magical girl who tortures orphans… torturing them in ways one could imagine, I spent several days and nights searching for you!"
"Really? But… from the thoughts I read, I sensed contempt," Mari said. "Besides, you also mentioned Tsumi, did you not? Which makes me question—if you claim to love me, then why think of another woman at all? And worse, comparing me to her? That's not very love-like. So no, your bullshit won't work on me."
"No, that's true!" he snapped, though his voice lacked conviction.
"Whatever. Just know—we're going to hunt you down. You're lucky I came here after you'd already shifted into your monster form. Otherwise, things would've been much easier."
"You… know that I have a human form?"
"Yes, I know. And so do some of the others." Mari smirked, her voice dripping with malice. "Good luck. You're going to die."
And with that, she vanished. The mindscape flickered, then slowly returned to its calm, previous state
Ezakiel opened his eyes, dragging himself back from the mindscape, his gaze adjusting slowly.
"Just in time, young master. We've reached home," the driver said.
He looked outside. The car was rolling up to his mansion, the gates closing behind them as they entered the compound—if that was even the right word for it. Not that it mattered.
This day can't possibly get any worse… can it?