Reiko opened the door with a mix of surprise and guilty relief.
The interruption was the perfect excuse to delay her own suicidal mission toward the hall.
Bell stood there in the dim corridor, shoulders slightly slumped, her expression betraying that she'd rather be anywhere else—even the darkest, dullest corner of the city.
"Hi, Bell," Reiko said, softening her expression without realizing it.
The rigidity in her shoulders eased a little at the sight of a familiar face not seeking pleasure.
"Hi…" Bell replied, forcing a smile that faded almost instantly, leaving behind a grimace of spiritual exhaustion.
Seeing Bell, Reiko stepped aside, inviting her into the relative safety of her room.
The silence inside, reinforced by the mansion's thick walls, immediately absorbed the distant echo of music and moans rising from below.
It felt like entering a parallel dimension where time moved more slowly and the air was easier to breathe.
Bell walked to the edge of the bed and dropped onto it with a sigh that seemed to last an eternity.
She remained there, seated, nervously fidgeting with her fingers and avoiding Reiko's gaze, as if ashamed to be seen in that state.
"…Honestly, I don't feel very comfortable with everything that's going on down there, Reiko," Bell confessed suddenly.
Her voice was barely a whisper, vibrating with raw honesty rarely heard from her.
"I know it sounds stupid… I'm a demon, specifically a succubus. This is supposed to be what I am, what I naturally enjoy. My body should be screaming at me to go down and join the party. But I just don't feel comfortable. I feel… out of place."
Reiko watched her from the chair, surprised by the depth of the confession. That vulnerability—so contradictory for Bell's race—began to act as an unexpected balm to her own anxiety.
Hearing Bell talk about mundane discomforts was far more comforting than facing the incomprehensible abyss that was Mara.
So I'm not the only one who feels like an outsider in this uproar… Even a succubus can feel overwhelmed by excess, Reiko thought, feeling the knot in her stomach loosen slightly.
Sensing the heaviness of the atmosphere, Reiko decided Mara could wait.
Her almost pathological curiosity about the orange-haired girl's abilities could be postponed in favor of the company of someone who, for once, shared her reluctance toward the surrounding chaos.
Reiko's mind—always racing, always focused on data—found a moment of peace in the humanity (or lack thereof, ironically) of her companion.
"It's not stupid, Bell. Sometimes what we are biologically doesn't define what we want or need at a given moment," Reiko said, crossing her legs and settling into the chair.
For the first time that night, she didn't feel the urge to bolt.
Bell nodded, letting out a sigh of relief at not being judged or mocked.
"It's just that… I had a bad experience a while ago," Bell continued, her gaze lost somewhere on the carpet, as if watching a movie she couldn't escape.
"It wasn't physically traumatic or life-threatening, but it was bad enough that I developed a huge aversion to all of this… Sexual things just don't appeal to me anymore. They make me uncomfortable, like I'm acting in a play where I forgot my lines. Seeing so many people surrender to it… it just makes me want to disappear."
Reiko listened with genuine attention, letting Bell's words fill the space between them.
She found it fascinating and sad that a succubus could develop such rejection due to personal trauma.
The conversation allowed her mind to clear of Mara's chaos and the constant pressure of being the "data girl" who always knew and organized everything.
For once, her focus wasn't a problem to solve or a threat to measure—but a friend she simply needed to listen to.