Half an hour later, the battle was over. Thanks to Gai Tsutsugami's Void, the enemy was annihilated. Members of Funeral Parlor gathered back at their base—only to be met with Tsugumi's shocking announcement.
"Inori was suddenly... kidnapped."
"What? Who took her? Why would she go with someone like that?" Ayase Shinomiya gripped the arms of her wheelchair tightly. It felt as though her beloved daughter, whom she had painstakingly raised, had been snatched away by a stranger.
"I refuse to accept this! I'm going to bring her back myself!" Ayase declared firmly.
"I'll come with you," Tsugumi said, her eyes cold as she tapped commands into her communicator. "I've got some unfinished business with her anyway."
"You're interested in something like this?" Gai raised an eyebrow, surprised.
"Don't misunderstand," Tsugumi replied curtly. "I just want to investigate her background. She's too mysterious. I've checked every database available—her only record is a recently registered student profile. Before that, it's all blank. If I don't find out who she really is, she could be a threat to Funeral Parlor. And besides, there's another thing I need to confirm."
She paused, then brought up a holographic projection. It showed Shu Ouma at the moment his life had been in danger—instinctively summoning his own Void.
His Void took the form of a long sword sheathed in a scabbard, the two bound tightly together by a chain—preventing Shu from drawing it.
"GHQ only managed to develop three samples of the Void Gene," Tsugumi explained. "From the looks of it, he's clearly been injected for quite some time. If we trace him, we're bound to uncover something big." Her proud expression made it seem as if unraveling their identities was nothing more than a trivial task.
The next morning, Kurumi Tokisaki skipped class. Naturally, the reason was Inori.
At dawn, Kurumi had dragged Inori into a kitchen—but this was no ordinary kitchen. It belonged to a luxury restaurant.
By the way, the entire district where Kurumi lived was hers. The snack shop served as her personal dessert cabinet. The clothing boutique was her wardrobe. The whole area, populated only by female attendants, was reserved exclusively for her—there wasn't a single male in sight.
This district wasn't constructed by GHQ, but rather through the joint efforts of several nations. Not long after the apocalypse, foreign governments had sought Kurumi out.
Once they learned of Project Crown, they didn't hesitate—they poured all their resources into supporting her. After all, if the world was ending, what use was money?
Thus, Kurumi was granted a prestigious title: President of the International Alliance for Japan's Salvation.
Naturally, someone of such importance couldn't live modestly. So, the nations unanimously decided to construct a grand residence for her, even naming it Paradise.
Kurumi, however, found the name unbearably embarrassing and refused outright. The 'Paradise District' project was scrapped before it even began. Instead, within the area she approved, they quietly expanded and renovated her personal living space.
And thus, Kurumi's exclusive residential district was born.
"Kurumi-chan!" Inori looked helplessly at the mountain of ingredients filling half the room. Even for a high-class restaurant, a kitchen with fifty stoves was enormous—and the sight of so much food left her completely overwhelmed.
"Words once spoken cannot be taken back. I said starting today, I'll only eat food made by you. I'll let you skip breakfast, but lunch—you're making that for me," Kurumi said firmly, hands on her hips, completely ignoring Inori's troubled look.
"But Kurumi-chan, I don't know how to cook," Inori said softly, her tone filled with distress.
"You can learn! These are your teachers." Kurumi gestured toward the row of maids standing nearby—ten women, each of a different nationality, all of them elite chefs.
Inori glanced between the ten maids and the sea of fresh ingredients, and her expression grew even more troubled. In her mind, a strange equation took form:
Can't cook = taught by ten maids = can cook by noon.
"Kurumi-chan! The equation doesn't work—I still can't learn it even after half a day." Inori looked at Kurumi with a pitiful expression, convinced that Kurumi was bullying her.
"It's fine. Taste doesn't matter for now! As long as you can make me lunch, I'll be happy," Kurumi said with a playful smile, wagging her finger lightly and easing the conditions.
"Kurumi-chan, you're bullying me again." Inori lowered her head in defeat, staring helplessly at the scattered ingredients on the counter. Her adorable, confused face looked almost tearful.
"There, there. I'll give you a reward," Kurumi said softly, stepping forward and pulling Inori into her arms.
Held tightly in Kurumi's embrace, Inori felt the warmth and softness envelop her. Her face buried in Kurumi's silky hair, she breathed in that gentle, alluring scent—and her heart melted completely. Her eyes shimmered with dreamlike color.
"Hurry up and finish, okay? I'm starving over here," Kurumi teased as she released her. Smiling sweetly, she waved and left the kitchen.
Inori nodded vigorously, determination suddenly lighting up her eyes. She strode toward the ingredients and, under the guidance of ten instructors, began her intense training in the culinary arts.
"Ah! It's been three hours already!" Kurumi groaned, rolling around on her pink bed and clutching her stomach. The more she looked forward to Inori's cooking, the hungrier she felt.
Strange... she didn't even need to eat, so why did she feel so hungry now?
It's all Inori's fault! she thought. I'll punish her... hmm, maybe make her my personal chef for life.
"Let's see if there's anything interesting going on." Kurumi opened her communicator—and instantly found an image going viral online. Comments poured in one after another:
"Holy crap, what a pervert!"
"Caught in broad daylight—what a creep!"
"A student doing this? Unreal!"
"Kneeling in shock. Isn't this the same guy who's always timid and indecisive? What the hell happened?"
"Who is he? I demand answers!"
"Burn him at the stake!"
"Don't give up on therapy, bro!"
In the photo, a boy was seen groping a girl's chest in broad daylight, the girl screaming in surprise—clearly, the moment was unexpected. Looking closely, Kurumi recognized both of them. The boy was Shu Ouma, and the girl being groped was their class president.
"Oh? I went to the trouble of 'kidnapping' Inori, and now it looks like Tsugumi's the one pushing Shu into action?" Kurumi mused. In the corner of the photo, she spotted a small black-haired girl with cat ears—Tsugumi from Funeral Parlor. Kurumi guessed Tsugumi was investigating Shu's Void Gene.
"My, my... I wonder if they'll end up living together." A strange gleam flickered in Kurumi's crimson eyes. Perhaps I should step in—just to keep that little cat from moving in with Shu.
Beep! The communicator blinked, and a silver-haired maid appeared on the screen. She was the head of Kurumi's household security detail.
"Milady, two young ladies have come to visit Miss Inori," the maid reported respectfully, transmitting two photos. The visitors were Tsugumi and Ayase Shinomiya.
"Let them in. I'll be there shortly," Kurumi replied. She slipped off the bed, took a refreshing shower, and changed into a black gothic dress before heading to her kitchen.
"Inori, why are you doing all this? That Kurumi woman really is bullying you, isn't she?" came Ayase's indignant voice from the doorway.
"Bullying Kurumi-chan?" Inori echoed, sounding genuinely puzzled.
"Why would you take it that way?! What kind of spell has that violent maniac cast on you?" Ayase snapped, followed by the sharp sound of a palm slapping the table.
"Oh my, the guests don't seem very happy. Is the service here unsatisfactory?" The automatic doors slid open as Kurumi entered gracefully, her black gothic gown exuding both nobility and beauty.
"No—the service here is very polite," Ayase said reflexively before catching herself. Her tone immediately turned sharp. "I'm not here for that! I'm here to take Inori back."
"You misunderstand," Kurumi said calmly as she approached the table. "Though I've let Inori stay here, I've never restricted her freedom. Whether she leaves or stays—it's entirely up to her."
A maid courteously pulled out a chair for Kurumi, who sat down beside Tsugumi, while Ayase and Inori sat across from them.
"Even so, just look at what you've made her do!" Ayase pointed accusingly at the four dishes on the table. They were clearly homemade—and poorly executed.
"Cooking isn't something one masters overnight. She'll learn in time," Kurumi said, resting her cheek on one hand, her crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.
"You've forced her into this! Her hands weren't made for cooking—they were made for holding a gun!" Ayase snapped, lifting Inori's hands. Her delicate fingers were covered in small adhesive bandages—proof of a novice cook's struggle.
"Hands made for holding a gun... I dislike that phrase," Kurumi said lightly. "Inori, I've decided—from today on, those hands exist to cook for me." She smiled warmly at Inori, who tilted her head in confusion.
"Why are you making her cook for you at all? Look at her hands—they're hurt! Don't you feel guilty?" Ayase demanded.
"Why shouldn't I? Inori isn't fragile, and honestly, I find her bandaged hands even more beautiful." Kurumi laughed softly, picking up her chopsticks and tasting a piece of fried tofu.
"Are you a demon?" Ayase muttered, exasperated beyond words.
"Oh!" Inori suddenly brightened, nodding earnestly—as if she had just understood something.
"Inori, don't agree with her!" Ayase nearly cried. How are these two even on the same wavelength?
"How is it, Kurumi-chan?" Inori asked nervously, watching Kurumi chew the tofu. Her pink eyes shimmered with anticipation, while Ayase could only cover her face in despair.
"She's hopeless..." Ayase whispered.