- Raynare -

  The ceiling was dripping.

  Not holy water. Not rain.

  Darkness.

  Black droplets slid through a crack overhead, as if someone had hung the night upside down and left it to bleed.

  Raynare sat atop the ruined altar, one leg crossed over the other, watching the liquid gather in a warped opening in the floor until it formed a small, dark pool.

  “What a depressing country,” she murmured, spinning a feather between her fingers. “Everything is either damp, old… or irritatingly cheerful.”

  A wooden plank creaked.

  “At least appreciate that we were sent somewhere quiet, Raynare,” Kalawarner said, leaning against a broken column while filing her nails. “We could be in the middle of a war with exorcists who think they’re protagonists.”

  Raynare rolled her eyes.

  “Relax, Kalawarner. War is overrated. I prefer a clean, punctual murder.”

  Dohnaseek grunted from the back wall, an unlit cigarette between his lips.

  “Our orders weren’t ‘clean, punctual murders.’ We’re supposed to locate useful Sacred Gears and harass the demons in the meantime.”

  Mittelt, hanging upside down from the ceiling like a bat, clapped enthusiastically.

  “I want to see the demons’ faces when we steal their toys! Can we do it soon? Pleeease?”

  Raynare sighed theatrically.

  “Soon,” she repeated, like a mother promising sweets. “This city is like a poorly closed wardrobe — shake it hard enough and something interesting might fall out.”

  She snapped her fingers.

  A distorted circle of blackened light opened before her, celestial symbols flickering in corrupted patterns. A list of names appeared — humans marked with faint traces of unusual energy.

  Potential targets.

  “Our beloved superiors want ‘reports,’” she mocked. “Inspect souls, measure potential, decide whether someone is worth corrupting or eliminating. Tedious.”

  Kalawarner arched a brow. “Picked one yet?”

  Raynare’s gaze skimmed the list.

  Hyoudou Issei.

  His name glowed slightly brighter than the others.

  She had felt him days ago — a weak vibration, like a pathetic heartbeat clinging to a pathetic soul.

  “The useless pervert,” she smiled. “His soul is soft as jelly, but something is attached to it. If it awakens, he could be useful. If not…” She paused. “He’ll make charming decoration.”

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  Mittelt applauded from the ceiling.

  “We kill him anyway, right?”

  “Of course,” Raynare said sweetly. “But only after I’m done playing.”

  The list dissolved.

  Silence returned.

  And then—

  She felt it.

  Not inside the church. Not nearby. Somewhere in the city.

  A needle.

  Not of light. Not of darkness.

  Of noise.

  Raynare went completely still.

  The Resonance was not hers — yet it brushed her all the same.

  An emotional echo — off-key, wrong, like someone striking a cracked bell inside her skull.

  It was not a Sacred Gear. Not a prayer. Not demonic magic.

  It clung to the fabric of the world like a stain no one had bothered to clean.

  “…What was that?” she murmured, frowning.

  Kalawarner looked up. “What was what?”

  Raynare tilted her head.

  The sensation lasted barely a second. A tug, a hum, a foreign ripple crossing her soul — and then it vanished.

  But the aftertaste remained.

  Like a smell.

  “There was an echo,” she growled, hating the word. “A strange vibration. As if someone rang a broken bell inside my head.”

  Mittelt dropped from the ceiling and bounced lightly.

  “Was it a demon?”

  “No.” Raynare wrinkled her nose. “I wish. They at least smell better.”

  Dohnaseek crushed his imaginary cigarette.

  “Another Fallen, then?”

  She looked at him as if he’d said something idiotic.

  “If a Fallen entered my territory without warning, I’d smell their feathers before they unfolded them.”

  She closed her eyes.

  It was still there — faint, clumsy, chaotic.

  Not strong. Not refined.

  Just… wrong.

  Like two souls taped together poorly and thrown into the middle of her city.

  “It’s coming from the school,” she said quietly.

  Kalawarner clicked her tongue. “Kuoh Academy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe it’s just that Hyoudou boy. If you already scanned his soul, maybe—”

  “No,” Raynare cut her off cleanly. “Hyoudou is simple. This scent is different.”

  She paused.

  “It feels like…”

  Her smile grew — slow, calculating.

  “…something that should not exist.”

  Those were her favorite things to break.

  “It’s irritating me,” she added, spinning the feather again. “Like a fly buzzing too close to your ear that you can’t quite crush.”

  Mittelt bounced excitedly.

  “Want us to go check it out?”

  Raynare shook her head.

  “No. If the demons are watching the school, I don’t want them thinking we’re setting up a circus. Not yet. I’ll go alone.”

  “You’re infiltrating already?” Kalawarner asked. “Isn’t that early?”

  Raynare smiled.

  “Early? Dramatic. There’s something in that school the reports didn’t mention. And when something isn’t in the reports, it’s either irrelevant… or dangerous.”

  She stood atop the altar.

  Her aura folded around her like an elegant coat of shadows. Black feathers withdrew. Wings vanished. Her posture softened. Her clothes dissolved into a flawless school uniform.

  Amano Yūma took her place.

  Wide, innocent eyes. Timid smile. Aura perfectly tuned to human frequency.

  Only her gaze — deep within — retained the edge of someone who had seen too many corpses.

  Kalawarner smirked. “I thought you saved that face for the pervert.”

  “And I do,” Raynare replied, adjusting her collar. “But I don’t need just one mask. I can wear several.”

  She glanced at a shard of broken mirror and tilted her head.

  Too sweet.

  She corrected the expression.

  Perfect.

  “I’ll take a look,” she said. “If it’s just a nervous human, I’ll ignore it. But if it’s something else…”

  Her eyes gleamed.

  “…we might have two toys instead of one.”

  Mittelt cheered.

  “Can I kill it if it’s boring?”

  “After I’m finished with it,” Raynare replied calmly, as if discussing turn order with her favorite knife.

  She walked toward the church doors.

  Her aura adjusted — heartbeat, breathing, posture — syncing flawlessly with the mask of an harmless student.

  But the thread remained.

  That echo.

  That new, unsettling scent.

  Something that did not belong to Heaven nor Hell.

  “If there’s an error on this board…” she whispered as she pushed the doors open and sunlight poured in, “…I want to be the first to find it.”

  She stepped outside.

  The sky above Kuoh was an innocent blue. Humans walked, talked, unaware that the world had tilted slightly.

  Raynare turned toward the academy.

  The hum intensified.

  “I can smell you,” she whispered. “I don’t know what you are… but I can smell you.”

  Her smile became perfect — sweet enough for a date, lethal enough for betrayal.

  “And I don’t like when something sings louder than I do.”

  She began walking toward Kuoh.

  (Revised Edition – 2026)