The gentle, elegant smile on Rita's pristine, snow-white face froze in place, and her striking crimson eyes widened in astonishment, caught completely off guard.
Her short, ashen-gold hair, like golden sand, fell softly over her forehead, shadowing her eyes.
Shock surged through her like a tidal wave, flooding every corner of her mind.
What… had she just heard?
Nagami's slight smirk did not go unnoticed by Rita, even as she did her best to maintain her composure.
How could he possibly know?
A surge of doubt welled up in her chest.
After all, she had only received this mission yesterday.
In just one night, while she hadn't kept eyes on Nagami and C.C. the entire time, she could vouch—on the honor of an S-rank Valkyrie—that they hadn't left St. Freya at all.
So… how did he know?
"Are you suggesting… that our dear Overseer has abandoned the Sirin Project?"
Despite her rigorous S-rank training keeping her shock hidden.
Rita's subtle pause spoke volumes. Nagami noticed and chuckled softly, continuing:
Otto wanted to seize control using Kiana—so why not reclaim the initiative by leveraging Rita herself?
No doubt, every word of this conversation would reach Otto's ears by tonight—down to the last punctuation mark.
Well, let's see how Otto handles a little pushback from me.
After all, when it comes to intelligence games, no one's going to outsmart a dimension-hopping traveler!
"…Nagami-sama," Rita said after a pause, her delicate brows knitting together in faint worry. Her flawless features softened into a concerned expression. "You never fail to surprise me~"
She lifted a lock of her silken hair and forced a smile, her eyes wary. "Just how much do you know?"
"Don't look so tense. I'm not all-knowing," Nagami replied calmly, straightening the collar of Rita's uniform that had been slightly mussed during the conversation.
"Let's just say I know enough."
He leaned in closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "But if you're curious about our Overseer's… colorful past, I do have some stories stashed away."
"Oh?" Suppressing the slight flush creeping up her cheeks at Nagami's playful closeness, Rita forced her mind back to the topic—gathering intelligence, as she reminded herself.
This was nothing personal; it was simply her duty as assigned by the Overseer.
"Yes, I'd love to hear them," she said smoothly, her voice low and sweet as she adjusted her posture, leaning forward ever so slightly.
Nagami coughed lightly, feigning a serious tone as he regarded the refined, elegant maid before him.
"It's Otto Apocalypse's black history, after all—something that might be unique in the entire world. What price do you think it's worth, Rita?"
Rita blinked at the boy's mock solemnity, then gave him a radiant smile, warm as the sun itself.
Slowly, she wrapped her slender, porcelain arm around his neck, her soft, warm figure pressing closer as she leaned in, her breath ghosting against his ear.
Her sultry voice purred, "So… what would be the price, Nagami-sama~?"
The sweet warmth of her breath and the gentle, intoxicating scent of her perfume tickled his ear, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine.
She's an arcane blade, alright! This maid is terrifying!
No—this is the power of an S-rank Valkyrie.
'A beauty trap, and I've walked right into it!'
Even Jesus couldn't stop me from falling for this one!
"I wouldn't call it a price, per se. We're friends, after all—this is just a friendly exchange of gifts!" Nagami's grin widened.
Rita's mischievous little smirk told him she was enjoying this game, too.
He couldn't help but feel his fondness for her grow in that moment.
She really was a delightful schemer—no wonder he'd always felt their personalities matched so well.
"Don't you think so, Rita?"
"You're absolutely right, Nagami-sama~"
Her soft, sweet voice was laced with certainty as she blinked her wine-red eyes, smiling back at him.
Then, with a fluid motion, Rita extended her slender, shapely leg, her finger slipping into the edge of her black nylon stockings.
Bit by bit, she rolled them down, revealing the pale, silky-smooth skin of her flawless leg.
With a soft pop, the stocking slid free from her porcelain skin, and Nagami's breath caught in his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed reflexively.
Though it wasn't quite as tantalizing as when C.C. had done it last night, seeing it on himself always carried a… unique thrill.
After all, Nagami wasn't exactly Kirito-level with the ladies.
"This," Rita said sweetly, placing the soft, cool, and faintly scented stocking in his hand, "is my gift to you, Nagami-sama—consider it the price for that little glimpse of Otto's… illustrious history."
Nagami lowered his gaze, studying the stocking now resting in his palm.
Its damp, silken texture was cool to the touch, faintly fragrant with the scent of the girl herself.
And in that moment, he couldn't help but smile.
"This… is the magic of friendship!"
"Ahem…"
Without hesitation, Nagami tucked away the still-warm stockings.
He glanced at the elegant, alluring maid, but something felt… incomplete.
"I'll gladly accept your gift," he said, "but there's just one tiny request I'd like to make."
"Anything for you, Nagami-sama," Rita purred, her tone dripping with seduction. "Whatever you desire, I'll make it happen~ Anything at all~"
As someone equally skilled in manipulation, and currently enjoying the calm of post-clarity, Nagami wasn't the least bit flustered by her suggestive tone.
"My request is simple… Rita, grow your hair out."
He reached out and gently brushed aside the strands that had fallen over her cheek, letting his fingers linger at the soft, silvery-golden ends. His motions were fond, almost reverent.
Short-haired Rita was certainly stunning—but the idea of a long-haired enchantress drifting through the halls stirred something deeper in his imagination.
The image of her in a flowing cascade of hair was practically dancing on his personal preference chart.
"Huh?"
Rita's face twisted into surprise. She had mentally prepared herself for something far more indecent, maybe even welcomed it—but this?
She stared at Nagami with a complex expression, a mix of suspicion and curiosity focused on his oddly sincere face.
After a long pause, realization dawned on her, and she gave a slow, knowing nod.
Ah. So he's the type who follows his true desires, huh?
To put it bluntly—yep, he's just an LSP. (Lewd Suspicious Person.)
Still… long hair, huh? That might actually be fun. It could even give Lady Durandal a heart attack.
"No problem at all, Nagami-sama~"
She tucked the silvery-gold strands behind one ear, flashing a dainty, elegant profile as she sat sideways on the couch.
"Now then… it's your turn."
"Gladly!"
With a mysterious smile, Nagami made himself completely at home and laid his head on the maid's lap. Rita blinked in surprise for a moment—then giggled softly.
Warmth spread from the back of his head through his body as Nagami began to speak, his tone like a storyteller weaving a tale from memory.
"This is the tale of the Lady of the Green Lily…"
As Nagami began recounting a scandalous chapter of World Serpent history to Rita—
Up above, in the vast blue sky, the roar of jet engines shattered the clouds. The newest Schicksal airborne battleship streaked across the heavens like a falling star.
It descended toward the eastern helipad of St. Freya Academy, its blue exhaust flames slowly flickering out until silence fell.
The metallic beast had come to rest.
The hatch hissed open, and a pristine white-haired girl dashed out excitedly.
Her snow-pure hair fluttered behind her, glossy and flawless—like something straight out of a shampoo commercial.
"Kiana, are you sure we shouldn't inform Principal Theresa?"
A white-haired nun in braids stepped out after her, wearing golden crystal goggles and cradling a stack of documents in her arms.
This was Amber—Otto's personal secretary. She had been put fully in charge of coordinating Kiana's visit to St. Freya.
Otto had granted her temporary authority for all mission-related matters, so no formalities with Theresa were necessary.
This made it clear: the reason Theresa held complete control over St. Freya was simply because Otto allowed it—out of affection. If he chose to intervene, he absolutely could.
And now, he had.
Kiana's eager steps slowed, and she paused. A strange emotion flickered across her face—grief? Regret?
"…No. There's no need to notify her," she said softly.
Shaking her head, Kiana pushed the thoughts of fate and inevitability from her mind. She turned to her temporary supervisor.
"Miss Amber, please arrange my dorm room as soon as possible."
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