The halls of Babyls Academy were a perpetual rush of noise and motion, but for Noir Sullivan, they were a red carpet. Following the cataclysmic dual-familiar summoning, the awe surrounding him had solidified into a protective, worshipful bubble.
He and Asmodeus Alice were walking toward the main administrative wing to collect their schedules and textbooks. Asmodeus, still riding the high of his master's supernatural authority, was practically levitating half a step behind Noir.
"My Lord, your demonstration was flawless," Asmodeus murmured, balancing a stack of Noir's scrolls with expert care. "Kalego-sensei himself was reduced to sputtering silence. This guarantees us the highest possible standing. I shall now ensure your schedule reflects appropriate rigor, befitting your unparalleled aptitude."
"Just get the materials, Asmodeus," Noir replied, trying to sound impatient, though he was internally thankful for the constant chatter. It prevented him from having to speak or reveal his true, panicked state. No spells. I have no spells. I need to get to the library and start learning the basics before the illusion shatters.
They were approaching a wide rotunda when the calm suddenly shattered.
With a sound like tearing silk, a blur of motion whizzed past them. A demon, moving at impossible speed, seemed to lose control, rolling head-over-heels across the polished stone floor. They crashed with a loud CRACK directly into a decorative, ornate stone pillar, sending dust and chips of rock scattering across the hall.
Noir, whose reflexes were honed by a life of unexpected emergencies, flinched violently. He immediately feared a serious injury, or worse—a retaliatory, destructive mana discharge.
Inner Dialogue (Noir):Someone's hurt! I should check on them. But if I break character, Asmodeus will—
Before Noir could process the strategic risks of appearing empathetic, the rolling demon uncurled itself.
It was a small girl with bright, electric green hair, wearing her uniform in an aggressively chaotic style, with socks mismatched and her skirt half-tied with a rope. She was absolutely unharmed. She bounced upright, giggling wildly, seemingly delighted by the destruction she'd wrought.
"Valac Clara!" a frantic, low voice hissed from behind Noir.
Asmodeus stepped forward, subtly positioning himself between Noir and the chaotic figure. He leaned in and spoke with urgent intensity into Noir's ear.
"My Lord, you absolutely must not engage with that creature. She is a known element of pure chaos, a blight upon the school's dignity, and her presence guarantees trouble. She is known as another 'weirdo.' People avoid her because she will inevitably get them into trouble."
Clara, however, had already spotted them. Her wide, startlingly bright eyes locked onto Noir. Unlike the other students whose awe was silent and respectful, Clara's reaction was pure, unfiltered joy.
"Ohhh! A new playmate!" Clara shrieked, running forward with an energy that left Asmodeus reeling back a step in professional disgust.
She stopped right in front of Noir, her nose nearly touching his uniform jacket. She peered up at his obsidian horn and his serious, crimson eyes.
"You look very serious! Are you good at playing serious games? My name is Clara! What's yours?" she demanded, tilting her head like an over-enthusiastic bird.
Noir, utterly taken aback, felt his carefully maintained facade of cold superiority instantly begin to crack. No one since Opera had approached him without a six-foot radius of fear. He found himself paralyzed, his carefully prepared "demonic disdain" subroutine failing entirely.
"I am Noir Sullivan," he managed, his voice slightly higher than he intended.
Clara clapped her hands together with explosive delight, startling him further.
"Noir! You're very handsome! Come play with me!" She grabbed his right hand and immediately began pulling him toward the pillar wreckage.
Asmodeus recovered his voice, radiating disapproval. "Unhand the Lord, creature! Do you not understand authority? His time is valuable!"
Clara didn't even look at Asmodeus. She was too focused on Noir. She stopped by the shattered pillar and began stamping her foot rhythmically.
"This is my foot, Connor! Say hello to Connor, Noir!" she chirped. Then she stamped her other foot. "And this is my other foot, Murph! Hello, Murph! Now, Noir, watch me crash into the next pillar! It's really fun!"
She gave him no opportunity to respond. She pointed a finger at the next decorative column fifty feet away.
"Clara, wait! My Lord needs his class materials!" Asmodeus pleaded, mortified that his powerful master was being treated like a kindergarten toy.
Clara simply ignored them both, winding up for another sprint.
Noir suddenly found himself unable to refuse. The sheer, overwhelming momentum of her personality was inescapable. After days of rigorous self-control and the crushing burden of maintaining a perfect, silent persona, this sudden, chaotic shift was strangely liberating. He was being swept along, and he didn't have to be the one in control.
"Stop, stop! Before you destroy the whole hall, let's play something else!" Noir blurted out, breaking character entirely.
Clara skidded to a stop, her eyes wide with rapt attention. "Oh! Like what?!"
"Like… house. We need to be the quiet residents of a quiet home."
And so, the three students—the supposed supreme demon, his devoted retainer, and the agent of chaos—spent the next two hours completely derailed from their academic duties.
Clara was a whirlwind of energy. She instantly appointed Noir the Father and Asmodeus the Mother ("Because you're so serious, you can worry about the budget!").
Clara, the Daughter, then used her inherited magic. She thrust her hands deep into the oversized, misaligned pockets of her uniform.
"Snack time!" she declared.
From her left pocket, she pulled out a tray piled high with perfectly fresh, hot, steaming dumplings. From her right, she produced three full glasses of iced fruit punch.
Noir stared at the apparition. "You… you made that?"
"Yup!" Clara said, plopping down happily and offering Noir a dumpling. "It's my Pocket Magic! Anything I've ever seen, I can pull right out of my pockets! It's super handy! Wanna try the couch I saw on TV last night?"
Before they could refuse, she pulled a perfectly rendered, velvet ottoman from her skirt pocket.
Asmodeus, meanwhile, was experiencing an existential crisis. He was forced to wear a hastily summoned, floral apron (pulled from Clara's sleeve) and worry about the budget while his Lord was enthusiastically accepting dumplings from a low-ranked, messy demon.
Inner Dialogue (Asmodeus):This is an insult! This is a disgrace! I am a high-ranking Asmodeus! Yet, my Lord finds pleasure in this crude chaos! I must endure this for his sake! His happiness is my duty!
Noir, however, was laughing—a genuine, honest sound that had been absent from his life since he became Shax Suzuki. He ate the dumplings and played the role of the quiet, serious Father, swept up in Clara's infectious, boundless energy.
When the two hours were up, Noir and Asmodeus were utterly exhausted, their uniforms slightly rumpled. Clara was still vibrating with energy.
"That was so fun!" Clara cheered. "Will you play again tomorrow, Noir?"
Noir, wiping sweat from his brow, looked at the chaos they had created—scattered dumplings, a rogue ottoman, and a very traumatized Asmodeus. But for the first time in days, the pressure on his spiritual core felt lighter. He had momentarily forgotten his disguise and his constant fear.
"Yes, Clara," Noir said, smiling faintly. "I will play again tomorrow."
Asmodeus sputtered, but Clara was already humming a cheerful, tuneless song as she twirled down the hallway.
And so, for several subsequent days, the routine was established. The most feared, most powerful new student and his ultra-serious retainer would be waylaid by the whimsical, chaotic Clara. They would play for hours, leaving Asmodeus horrified, but Noir feeling momentarily human and sane. Clara, meanwhile, was happier than anyone could remember, her humming and laughter echoing through the halls as she met with her new, dedicated friends every single day.