Narrator POV.
"Tell me, Isagi… are you afraid of me?"
Makima leaned in toward him with calculated slowness, just enough for her lips to barely brush his ear as she whispered the words. It wasn't an obvious or exaggerated touch… but it was deliberate.
Isagi tensed up instantly, like a cat whose fur stands on end without warning.
His entire body reacted before his brain could even process it. It was fucking uncomfortable. And terrifying.
Still, he forced himself to answer. When he got nervous, he had that problem: his mouth loosened, his tongue slipped, and he said stupid things before thinking.
"Pfft... fear?" he blurted out, forcing a laugh. "I'm the son of the hardest-working man with 45 cm arms. I don't even know what fear is."
He slowly straightened his posture, relaxing his shoulders, adopting a confident expression that didn't reflect the chaos happening inside him at all.
"This morning I ate my eight eggs and reached muscle failure," he added, as if that explained anything. "I was lacking creatine... maybe that's why I haven't reached 45 cm arm length yet."
Makima pulled back slightly.
Her smile didn't disappear; it stayed right there, intact, watching him carefully as she removed her hand from his shoulder. Inside, Isagi let out a sigh of relief he would never allow himself to show.
"What a curious way of speaking you have, Isagi," she commented with genuine interest. "You know… a couple of days ago I watched a Latin movie, just out of curiosity… and the way you talk is quite similar." She tilted her head softly, as if enjoying every second of the conversation. "But if you're not afraid of me…" she continued, "then why do you avoid looking at me?"
Isagi kept his hands in his pockets. His gaze stayed fixed on the floor, adopting an almost exaggerated seriousness. At that moment, his mind focused on only one thing—the most important thing of all:
(Yep… the floor is made of floor.) he thought seriously, anything to avoid looking at Makima.
Makima turned around calmly. Her braid fell softly down her back as the evening sunlight slipped through the window, flooding the office with warm, almost golden tones—like the world was trying to force a cozy atmosphere… right when Isagi was sweating cold.
"Do you remember I said I have a very good sense of smell?" Makima asked, turning back toward him and pointing at her nose with a small smile.
She took a couple more steps, closing the distance without asking permission.
"Do you want me to tell you what I smell on you?" she continued. "Your scent has changed… twice in total."
She paused briefly. Then lowered her hand, stepping even closer until she gently placed her palm against Isagi's chest. The touch wasn't rough or invasive… but it was enough.
"But even so… you still smell good, Isagi."
Isagi reacted instantly.
"That's because I use Forever Winsconsin." He stepped away quickly, adjusting his shirt as if he were in front of a camera. "With male ocelot pheromones. A fragrance without limits." He struck an absurdly confident pose. "Forever Winsconsin. For men." he finished, tightening the collar of his shirt with dead-serious professionalism.
Makima let out a soft laugh. She genuinely found it entertaining how Isagi always managed to derail the conversation, even in situations as tense as this one. Though deep down, it was obvious what he was really trying to do: keep his distance.
Because Isagi knew it. If he let Makima get too close, he could easily fall to her greatest weapon: her beauty… and her seduction.
(That female is dangerous… that female hurts… that female doesn't want—) he thought. (Yeah, that song fits Makima perfectly.) Even in a moment like this, his brain kept searching for humor and references so he wouldn't break.
A soft sigh escaped Makima's lips as she took a step back. Her eyes scanned Isagi calmly, analyzing him without hurry, like she was studying an interesting piece on a board only she understood.
Makima always knew what was going on… and Isagi's sudden growth in ability had not gone unnoticed. Not at all.
Originally, she had expected defeating the Bat Devil to be more complicated. In her mind, Denji and Isagi would have to work together, complement each other, support one another to survive.
But that wasn't what happened.
With a single slash, it was over. Fast. Clean. Too efficient. That… wasn't something she had predicted.
"Tell me, Isagi Fushiguro." Makima lowered her voice—not out of softness, but out of intent. "Does my presence make you uncomfortable?" She paused briefly, just enough for the words to settle. "Perhaps you know something others don't… perhaps something about me."
Isagi's heart began pounding. Panic slowly seeped into his mind. He had never been good with interrogations, and this didn't even feel like a formal one… it was worse.
Was Makima doubting him?
Did she suspect something?
And worst of all… he couldn't even claim he had been careful. Ever since their first meeting, Isagi had tried to escape. Literally and figuratively. Since starting the job, he always kept his distance. Always avoided being alone with her. Always backed away discreetly, thinking that would be enough.
Now he realized something terrifying:
He had basically exposed himself.
Trying to fool the Control Devil had not been one of his best ideas. Makima wasn't just perceptive… she was the very embodiment of control and manipulation. Every gesture, every silence, every word spoken too much or too little—she noticed it all.
And as if that weren't enough, her otherworldly beauty only strengthened her hold over others, lowering defenses, confusing wills.
Isagi might have a system. He might level up. He might gain absurd abilities. But at the end of the day, he was still human.
And in terms of intelligence, reading the board, and absolute control over the situation… he couldn't compete with Makima.
Not yet.
That entire conversation had happened in barely a second.
Isagi completely rejected the idea of a plan that bold… and that suicidal. That wasn't a strategy—it was Russian roulette with a gun almost fully loaded, with only one empty chamber waiting for mercy.
"Have you told anyone?" Makima asked, leaning forward slightly.
She didn't need an answer. She knew perfectly well Isagi had no family. No friends. No one to turn to.
"Told what?" Isagi answered on pure reflex, snapping out of his internal argument with the System.
Makima shook her head slightly. Her expression didn't show annoyance; on the contrary, she looked entertained, like someone enjoying a game of cat and mouse. Still, she couldn't drag it out too long. If she kept going, it would all repeat: direct questions… and Isagi replying with jokes and memes only he understood.
"Mmm…" she hummed softly as she stepped closer. When she was right in front of him, she lowered her voice and leaned in even more, invading his personal space without touching him.
"To say that I'm a devil," she whispered. "Or do you want to keep pretending you don't know?" She paused briefly, watching him closely. "Your actions give you away. You're afraid of me. You always avoid getting too close. Is that why you wanted to run away that day at the factory? Because you know something… even though I just told you myself."
Isagi nearly felt his soul leave his body. He felt his blood sugar drop instantly; his legs trembled slightly, and his mind screamed only one thing:
"You need a Coke and some bread after that scare."
If he had the Ten Shadows Technique, there was no doubt about it: he would've already summoned Mahoraga and sprinted away without looking back.
Anything was better than this.
He'd rather die crushed by that bastard… than lose his free will to Makima.
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End of the chapter.