Before Klein could decide whether Mr. Red was truly a soft-hearted tough-talker, he received his first commission as a detective: Lawyer Jurgen's cat, Brody, had gone missing. Following the principle of proximity, Jurgen and his grandmother, having seen Klein's advertisement in the newspaper, sought out the nearest detective, Sherlock Moriarty, to find their pet. The reward was quite generous for the task.
"..."
Though it wasn't the detective career he'd envisioned, Klein didn't refuse. He grabbed his cane and set out to find the cat.
"Hmm, so this so-called fate really does exist…" Alaric watched Klein leave, muttering to himself.
Klein's current residence wasn't the same as in the original story. Though not far from Jurgen's home, it was still two streets away. Yet, somehow, Jurgen had come to Klein for this cat-finding job, just like in the original tale.
Alaric wasn't too surprised. The near-identical scripts of Ince Zangwill's actions and Vice Admiral Hurricane Qilangos's trajectory suggested this world's timeline might indeed follow a predetermined fate.
"But clearly, fate isn't unchangeable... it depends on whether you have the power to alter it. My Shadow of Time is similar, isn't it? For those I summon from the past, they're essentially given a script of their fate in advance. Most just lack the ability to change it…"
Alaric's fingers tapped lightly on the balcony railing as he gained a new understanding. "From the perspective of the future, the present is just another past. Time is a river you can't step into twice for most... but not for me…"
"I don't get your twisted hobbies. Do you really find this childish game fun?" Medici's voice cut in, dripping with his usual sarcasm.
Alaric glanced at him, a smirk forming. "Of course it's fun. I never forget I'm just a mortal."
"Mortal? Hahahaha!" Medici laughed as if he'd heard the funniest joke, eyeing Alaric like a monster in human skin. "No offense, but you're less human than me, a born mythical creature. You're like that fanatic, but better at manipulating hearts. You dissect everyone you meet, breaking them down with benefits, warmth, or whatever else, to get what you want."
Medici glanced toward Klein's retreating figure. "Mortals don't treat everything like a game. They have flaws, sure, but they pour genuine emotion into those they love. You, little monster... have you ever felt anything real for anyone in this world? Or is it all just a game to chase the ending you want?"
Alaric blinked, as if truly seeing the man before him for the first time... not just as a high-sequence tool but as the Red Angel, the once-great conspirator who followed the Ancient Sun God and helped save the world.
Then Alaric's smile widened, brighter than ever. "Keeping you around was the right call, Medici. You're really interesting."
"But you're wrong about one thing. Even in a game, players can invest real emotions." Alaric said, raising a hand as if to block the sunlight or grasp the sun itself. He turned to Medici, his smile softening. "You should be glad that, whatever my true nature, I've chosen to be a mortal. I didn't stay floating above but came down to the ground to play this so-called childish game."
Medici didn't argue. His earlier words were both his honest opinion and a test... to gauge Alaric's attitude toward this world and his so-called friends, to see if he truly believed himself a mortal or was fully aware of his nature and merely playing a game.
The result… Medici looked at the golden-haired, green-eyed young man, gritted his teeth, and couldn't hold back. "Your so-called emotions are just you playing your friends for fools?"
"Not fools." Alaric said, shaking his head, his expression almost puzzled as he looked at Medici. "Do you bare your entire self to your friends?"
Medici froze, unable to answer. He wouldn't reveal everything to his friends either.
"Exactly. You don't bare your soul to your friends." Alaric said with a laugh, patting Medici's shoulder. "And, funny enough, my good friend hasn't bared everything to me either. I deceive him with this fake identity, and he deceives me with his. That's fair, isn't it?"
This clearly touched on information Medici wasn't privy to.
Alaric continued, "But I didn't expect you to be so surprisingly pure, Medici. My goodness, when you fall in love someday, you won't ask your partner if they love your face, your sequence, or your soul, will you?" His tone turned teasing.
Medici's face darkened. "I'm not that bored." He snapped.
"Really? I don't believe you." Alaric said with a cheeky grin.
Alaric shook his head, sighing sincerely. "No wonder you could sit at the same table as the Angel of Fate, Ouroboros. In a way, you're just as pure as him."
Clench. Medici's fist tightened.
"Hahahaha!" Perhaps out of sheer frustration, Medici laughed, though it was a cold sound.
"But I'm not like you pure types. I don't care why emotions arise... deception, manipulation, whatever. I'm someone born in chaos; there's no pure emotion in chaos." Alaric said, his tone shifting. He patted Medici's shoulder again. "Of course, I don't deny what you said. I do see this world as a game. But if you all can make me invest enough emotion, it could become real to me."
He flashed a sunny, radiant smile. "So, want to be friends?"
Medici caught the subtext: enough friends, enough emotions, enough anchors to tether this being, who could float to the sky, firmly to the ground.
A grounded Alaric wouldn't impulsively smash the game and take the world down with him.
"…You lunatic!" Medici muttered after a long silence.
"Yep, that's me!" Alaric replied, knowing why Medici cursed. Just as he knew Medici wouldn't refuse... not because of Alaric's charm, but because the True Creator's camp wanted him grounded even more than he did.
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Hi guys, Elenea here! I just want to announce that starting now I'll be trying to focus on my own original fanfic, which I've been thinking about for the past few days (lol I really mulled this over briefly for a few days and decided I'm going to make it a full novel).
[Worse Than the Devil (DxD)]
Synopsis:
Devil.
An evil and chaotic creature, born from hell, which are often a scapegoat for humans. Blamed for the atrocities they themselves commit.
"The devil made me do it."
A phrase always uttered by humans after committing crimes, casting blame and responsibility for their wrongdoings onto the devil.
But not all humans are like that, for there is one man who would gleefully commit atrocities that would be condemned by all of human history and accept the blame and responsibility for those wrongs with open arms.
His name is Michael, but in stark contrast to the meaning of his name 'Who is like God' he is not a devout man who draws near to God's embrace. Instead… he is the one who sends lost sheep to meet God's embrace much faster.
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Btw, a quick note before you decide to read, if you have a heart as pure as glass, I suggest you don't read this because it REALLY gets dark to early. The first chapter will give you a little idea of what I might explore later on in this fanservice harem-themed world like DxD.
Adios!