Rias's command lingered in the air, final and irrevocable. The era of confinement had ended, yet the open door to the hallway looked like an unknown abyss.
A rehearsed fear, an echo of the old Gasper, made the young vampire's body instinctively step back. His eyes widened, fixed on the light spilling from outside, the perfect image of hesitation.
Then, he stopped. The trembling in his shoulders ceased, and he slowly raised his head. His eyes met Rias's, and the false timidity broke—not completely, but enough to reveal a spark of cold determination beneath it.
His expression shifted, fear giving way to hardened defiance. Akeno, watching from the doorway, felt the corner of her lips curve. She liked that expression, that anomaly.
'This is perfect. She gave me the order, the excuse I needed. Now I can demand, not beg.'
He stepped forward, the movement small but weighted. His voice, when he spoke, was no longer a trembling whisper, but a low, resolute tone.
"I'll leave this room, Rias-senpai."
The declaration startled them both. Not for the agreement, but for its firmness. He glanced at his uniform, at the skirt's fabric, with barely concealed disdain.
"But I won't leave dressed in these girl's clothes."
"I want to wear a man's clothes. Real clothes."
The demand hung in the air, as unexpected as the hole in the wall. Rias blinked, genuine confusion cracking her façade of authority. She had always assumed he liked those clothes, that it was a personal choice she had no right to question.
"But, Gasper... I always thought you liked dressing that way. You never said anything."
He lowered his gaze, his face twisting into a carefully crafted expression of sadness and shame. His hands clasped together in front of him, fingers nervously intertwining.
"I never really liked it, Rias-senpai. But... I did it for a friend. A very dear friend who told me I looked cute that way."
He lifted his face, pink eyes shimmering with rehearsed moisture, his lower lip trembling slightly. It was a cute face, designed to disarm and draw out sympathy.
"Now... I want to change again. For another friend."
'Believe that, you damned redhead.'
Rias stayed silent, her face thoughtful. His logic, though emotional, was flawless. He was tying his change of appearance to a new loyalty, a loyalty to her. It was a trade she could not refuse.
She sighed, a small smile forming on her lips. The piece was moving exactly as she wanted, even if in unexpected ways.
"All right, Gasper. I understand. Later, we'll go to the mall and buy you new clothes."
From the doorway, Akeno let out an exaggerated, lamenting sigh, a touch of drama in her voice.
"Oh, what a shame. I thought you looked so adorable in those clothes, Gasper-kun."
Gasper's face flushed instantly, a vivid red creeping up his neck. He shrank, his gaze dropping to the floor, the perfect image of timidity.
"P-please, stop teasing me, Akeno-senpai."
Akeno lifted a finger to her lips, violet eyes gleaming with pure amusement. His reaction was exactly what she expected, and it delighted her.
"Ara, ara. Seeing you so cute and embarrassed like this makes me want to tease you even more."
The blush on Gasper's face deepened, and he turned to his King, eyes wide in a silent plea. He sought refuge behind Rias's figure.
"Rias-senpai..."
Rias placed a hand on Gasper's shoulder, a reassuring gesture. She cast a warning glance at her Queen, authority returning to her voice.
"Akeno, that's enough."
Akeno accepted the order with a slight bow of her head, though her smile only widened. The amusement in her violet eyes was nearly palpable, a promise of future provocations.
She stepped forward, her presence filling the space.
"Of course, President. I'll take him to buy new clothes myself."
Her voice was a sultry purr. She slowly ran her tongue over her lips, her gaze fixed on the young vampire.
"And I'll make sure to dress him... personally."
Rias's voice cut the air, sharp and leaving no room for contest.
"Akeno."
The Queen released a soft giggle, making a graceful, small bow. Sincerity was absent from the gesture, pure theater for an audience of two.
"My apologies."
With one last amused glance at Gasper, Akeno turned and left the room, her footsteps echoing softly down the hallway until they faded. Silence returned, now occupied only by Rias and her Bishop.
Rias looked at the boy at her side, determination in her face unwavering. She extended her hand, slender fingers wrapping around Gasper's small, pale hand.
The touch was firm, a link of command and promise.
"It's time for change."
Gasper looked at her hand enclosing his. The contact was cold, but the command in her eyes was clear as fire. He nodded slowly, just once, the mask of hesitation settling back onto his face.
He let her pull him gently, guiding him toward the open door. Each step was a calculated effort, his feet feeling heavy, reluctant to leave the only safety this body had ever known.
The hallway's light was brighter than he remembered, shadows dancing on the walls in ways the old Gasper would have found terrifying. He kept his gaze lowered, fixed on his King's shoes.
'If I have to keep pretending to be this scared little girl, I'll lose my mind. Every stutter, every tremble... it's torture. But I have to endure it. For now.'
He crossed the threshold of the door. The air outside was different, carrying the faint scents of the old building and Akeno's lingering perfume in the corridor.
It was the first step out of the cage. A step into a much larger prison.
'He left. He really left.'
His hand in hers was small, almost cold, but the act itself was monumental. For months, that room had been a tomb for wasted potential, a sanctuary for a fear she didn't know how to cure.
She remembered the despair, the crushing pressure of her engagement with Riser. Each day was a countdown to her own prison, a life chained to a man she despised.
And the piece she needed, the strength she sought, had been there all along. Locked away, broken, useless. Or so she thought. The shattered wall, the hunger in his eyes... that wasn't weakness. It was restrained power.
'I sealed him to protect him, but in truth, I was hiding my own salvation. He's not a burden. He's my key.'
That simple step, from a dark room into a lit corridor, was not just the journey of a boy. It was the first note of a symphony not yet written, one that would alter the course of long-laid destinies.
A soul from another world, wearing the skin of a pariah, had arrived. And with it, the promise of a storm.
The heavens didn't know, the underworld didn't suspect, but the gears of the universe had just shifted course. The story of devils, angels, and dragons would never be the same.
All because of the boy who had just stepped out of the box.
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