The cabin door burst open, and a silver-haired girl rushed inside.
"Sister! What happened?" she asked, her voice sharp with alarm—though she quickly steadied it, adopting a colder, more composed tone. "I heard a Djinn attacked the train."
The woman smiled faintly and pressed her finger to her lips.
"Shhh. Don't speak too loudly—you'll wake him up," she whispered.
Anastasia blinked, confused by her sister's words, until her eyes drifted downward—and her jaw nearly dropped.
"S-sister?" she stammered, utterly shocked.
Her sister had always been distant, calm, and the kind of woman she looked up to. So… what was a man doing resting on her lap?
When she looked closer, she recognized him.
"Lloyd?" she murmured, and in that instant, she understood.
The attack had taken place in the Omega car—and he'd gone there for a reason: to help her.
He'd put himself in danger… because of her. Anastasia couldn't help the sharp pang of guilt that struck her chest.
"That's right," Isabella said softly, brushing a hand through the boy's hair. "This one fought well—he faced a Wendigo and lived to tell the tale."
"Seriously?" Anastasia's eyes widened.
Wendigos were classified as Disaster-level Djinns—each one the equivalent of a small natural catastrophe, they could easily wipe out an entire village.
Among Disaster-class creatures, Wendigos weren't known for widespread destruction, but their individual strength was monstrous.
Their endurance was terrifying, they could alter the ambient temperature, spread an aura of fear, twist their bodies at will—and worst of all, they were invisible and nearly impossible to detect.
"That's right," Isabella continued. "Thanks to him, there weren't more casualties… though someone did die today." Her jaw tightened as she spoke.
Anastasia looked away, sorrow darkening her eyes. The death of a student was always painful—but even more so knowing how much her sister carried on her own shoulders.
"By the way, I believe this belongs to you," Isabella said, handing over a small badge.
Anastasia's face flushed red with embarrassment, there was no escaping it—her little mistake had been discovered.
"So he found it, huh?" she muttered.
She'd been harsh with him—accusing him without reason, yet somehow, Lloyd had still chosen to help her.
But one thought stuck in her mind. When they first met, Lloyd hadn't seemed powerful at all. In fact, even Gaston had called him useless.
Yet his strength was undeniable, he'd managed to fight a Wendigo—an incredible feat for someone who hadn't even entered the academy yet.
"Yes," Isabella said with a small smile. "You should thank him when he wakes up, though it's a shame—he might not be awake in time for the inauguration."
Anastasia tilted her head slightly. Truth be told, she didn't care much for the inauguration; it was mostly dull speeches with little real importance.
"He won't be missing much," she said quietly.
* * *
A faint scent of mint tickled the boy's nose.
"Mmm…" Lloyd shifted slightly to the side, but couldn't move—something was pressing down on him, keeping him pinned.
It was soft… warm… not exactly unpleasant, so, naturally, he decided to wrap his arms around whatever it was.
As he did, he felt that "whatever" had silky, smooth hair, and he couldn't resist running his fingers through it.
When he did, the "whatever" stirred—like a small creature responding to affection.
"Wait… wasn't I dead?"
Lloyd's eyes snapped open. The drowsiness clouding his mind vanished instantly.
"Where am I?" he muttered, glancing around the room.
White curtains surrounded the bed, he figured he was in the infirmary—or something close enough.
"Mmm…" a soft sigh reached his ears.
That's when he noticed the small bump under the sheets, he wasn't alone.
"Uh… hello?"
At his voice, something rose from beneath the white fabric—sitting up in a very "dangerous" position.
Lloyd blinked; On top of him was a breathtakingly beautiful girl. Her silky white hair was a little tousled, and her bright green, almost emerald, eyes were hazy with sleep.
Still half-awake, she rubbed her eyes—still sitting on his lower body. Lloyd's "friend" couldn't help but stand at attention in response.
"Mmn… who are you?" Lloyd asked, trying his best to shove impure thoughts out of his head.
Looking closer, he noticed she was wearing a nurse's uniform.
"What kind of medicine do they use in this world?" he thought. "Is sleeping with a cute girl part of the treatment now? Well… I can't say modern medicine could compete with that."
"Can I eat you?" The girl's voice was soft—melodic to the point of melting his ears.
She tilted her head slightly as she spoke, watching him with sleepy curiosity.
"She's… not talking about that, right?"
"And what exactly do you mean by 'eat'?" he asked aloud. Surely, she couldn't be referring to that… right?
Still, just letting the thought pass through his mind awakened a dangerous kind of hunger inside him.
"Why don't I eat her instead?"
The urge to lunge at her—to devour her—surged violently. His desire spiked, but somehow, he managed to hold it back.
"What the hell am I thinking? Calm down, dammit…"
He felt strange and the sensation wasn't his own—it wasn't like the hormones of a teenage boy.
It was hunger. Raw, primal hunger—for one thing only: pleasure.
"Maybe it's because I'm an Incubus? Like a vampire that hasn't had blood for too long… yeah, that could get dangerous."
He took a deep breath, trying to regain control—but then, her voice cut through his thoughts again.
"Your soul," she said softly. "Would you let me eat your soul?"
Lloyd's expression froze, had he heard that right?
"Great… even the nurses want to kill me now."