Night—the time when the city removes its daytime mask of decency. Jin stood in the middle of his tiny apartment, a single lightbulb snatching the meager furnishings from the gloom: a stack of neatly piled school textbooks on the low table, a lonely futon in the corner, a small refrigerator humming so quietly it seemed afraid to disturb the peace. The air was stale, smelling of dust and old wood.
He had just finished examining the documents found in the desk drawer. Enrollment certificate for Kuoh Academy, health insurance, a resident card—flawless forgeries, creating a personality from nothing. Izayoi Jin. Orphan. Transfer student. A convenient, empty shell.
"And what now?" The thought was lazy, devoid of any panic. He sat on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. "Do I even have to?"
The memories poured into his consciousness along with the Japanese language and local geography were clear. The plot of High School DxD. He knew it. He knew about the fallen angels, about the battle for Asia, about Riser, about Kokabiel. He knew that, in the end, Hyoudou Issei, the local protagonist, would manage somehow. Struggling, losing, but winning. Such are the laws of the genre.
"So maybe... just do nothing?" a tempting thought flickered. "Go to school, get my pathetic allowance, watch the story unfold from the sidelines. Be a spectator, just like in my past life. Safe. Simple. Boring."
But immediately, another, more sober thought arose. He was an anomaly. His presence here had already disrupted the original scenario. And what if, because of his interference—or, conversely, his inaction—something went wrong? What if Issei didn't manage? What if one of these wars spilled outside the barriers and caught him, a random bystander? In this world, there were no safe places for those who knew the truth.
He wasn't a spectator. He was a participant, shoved onto the stage without his consent. And if he did nothing... he was finished anyway. Final oblivion, as per the contract with that guy in white.
Irritation rose in his throat, a tight, hot lump. He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers clenching into a fist.
"What a goddamn drag..."
The word that escaped his lips perfectly described his state. Not fear, not despair. But precisely a universal, cosmic drag. He was once again forced into a game he didn't want to play, but couldn't leave.
He stood up. Sitting within these four walls was unbearable. He needed to walk, clear his head, and see this new world with his own eyes, not through the prism of someone else's memories.
The night enveloped Kuoh in a cool, damp blanket. Jin ambled down the quiet streets of the neighborhood he now lived in. His memories helpfully supplied: this was an old, poor, but quiet residential district. Small, two-story houses, pressed tightly together, alternated with apartment buildings like his own, housing a few families. The air smelled of damp earth after a recent lawn watering and something elusively sweet—the scent of night-blooming flowers from someone's tiny garden.
The silence was broken only by the chirping of crickets and the distant hum of trains. The perfect place for a "normal" life. But Jin saw the underside. He knew that behind this sleepy idyll hid territory divided between two powerful demonic clans. That in any of these dark alleys, you could run into not a drunk worker, but a stray demon looking for easy prey. That behind the windows of these cute houses might live not only humans, but reincarnated servants leading double lives. This contrast between the seen and the unseen brought not fear, but only a wry, cynical smirk.
His leisurely path led him to an island of light in the night's gloom—a 24-hour convenience store, a kombini. Bright, almost vulgar neon signs promised cheap food, drinks, and salvation from loneliness for night owls. In front of the entrance, a group of high schoolers in the worn-out uniform of another school was squatting. They were smoking, laughing loudly, exchanging crude jokes. Typical punks, petty predators who considered this patch of asphalt their territory. Jin cast a lazy, indifferent glance at them and, without changing his pace, went inside. The automatic doors slid open with a soft chime.
Inside, it was bright and cool. He walked past the racks of magazines and manga, past the coolers of drinks, heading for the prepared food counter. But his gaze caught on his own wallet, which he pulled from his pocket. Almost empty. A couple of crumpled bills and a handful of change. Five hundred yen, no more. The financial resources of an orphan on allowance. He sighed heavily. He'd have to be frugal. From a nearby shelf, he grabbed a pack of the cheapest instant ramen and a can of soda. A luxurious dinner.
A surprise waited for him at the register. Behind the counter stood a girl. Incredibly, almost unnaturally, cute for a night-shift kombini clerk. No older than twenty, with chestnut hair tied in a high ponytail that bounced amusingly with her every move. A neat, delicate face with large, trusting eyes, average height, about half a head shorter than him. The striped store uniform fit her perfectly, emphasizing her slender figure.
"Damn ero-world," a tired thought flickered in Jin's mind. Even the cashier at a regular kombini looked like a character from a dating sim. He silently placed his modest basket on the counter.
The girl took the items and began to scan them. Obeying professional habit, she looked up at the customer to greet him, and... froze. Her fingers hovered over the scanner, and a light blush instantly appeared on her cheeks.
Jin, who had been lazily observing the street through the glass door, shifted his gaze to her. He saw her staring at him, frozen, her lips slightly parted in surprise. He tilted his head slightly, his violet eyes studying her indifferently, but attentively. This simple gesture snapped her out of her stupor. She flinched, blushed deeply, and abruptly looked down, hiding her gaze.
"P-p-pardon me!!!" her voice was thin and strained. "T-that'll be two hundred and thirty yen!"
Jin, paying no attention to her reaction, calmly counted out the exact amount, down to the last coin, and placed it on the counter. While he slowly packed the ramen and soda into a thin plastic bag, he could feel her gaze on him. She kept stealing furtive glances, her cheeks still burning. It seemed she desperately wanted to say something but didn't dare.
Jin huffed inwardly. He didn't understand what had happened to her. He was used to his new appearance attracting attention, but this reaction was... excessive. He took the bag and headed for the exit.
After leaving the store and walking past the punks, who followed him with disdainful looks, he had already gotten a decent distance away when he heard a desperate, almost shouted voice behind him:
"PLEASE COME AGAIN!!!"
He turned around. The same clerk had run out of the store and was standing in the doorway, hands clasped to her chest. She was breathing heavily, as if she'd run a marathon, and her face was a mixture of embarrassment and some kind of puppy-like delight. Jin froze for a moment, then the corners of his lips twitched in a wry smirk. He gave her a lazy wave and, turning, walked on.
The girl, seeing that he had noticed her and even responded, looked as happy as if she'd won the lottery. She let out a quiet, sweet sigh full of happiness and, beet-red, ran back into the store.
However, this scene did not go unnoticed by one of the punks. The guy, clearly the leader of the gang, sat with his face twisted in anger. He stared through the glass at the clerk, who was now joyfully, almost skipping, wiping down the counter, and then transferred his hate-filled gaze to Jin's retreating back.
"That bastard..." he growled through his teeth.
He threw a few short phrases to his buddies. They smirked in understanding, put out their cigarettes, and lazily got to their feet. After exchanging a few words, they moved after Jin, disappearing into the shadows of the night city.