Chapter 13 (Patreon)

“All right, my dear brothers! One more time, together—and this time, do it properly!” I beamed at the five upperclassmen piled in a heap.

“PICKING ON THE WEAK IS WRONG!” came their crisp, perfectly synchronized chorus.

“Good! And next?” I encouraged them.

“FIVE-ON-ONE FIGHTS ARE WRONG!” the boys answered in unison again, as if they’d rehearsed it.

Well, why “as if”? We had rehearsed it. This was our sixth attempt. Every time I wasn’t satisfied, I had to give the cast another little remedial lesson.

“Excellent, little brothers! And what happens if you keep acting like thugs?”

“BIG BROTHER GETS UPSET AND BREAKS OUR ARMS!” the pile nearly sang.

“Wonderful, boys. Give my regards to the doctors. And tell your parents I’m disappointed in how they raised you. I hope we never meet again, hmm? For your own good. Now, what do you say to big brother as he leaves?”

“GOODBYE! THANK YOU FOR THE LESSON!” The delinquents from one of the roughest schools in town sounded genuinely tense. They really didn’t want another remedial lesson.

“Good boys. Take care, you blockheads.”

I stepped out of the alley, whose entrance was screened by a small “Muggle-repelling” barrier powered by demonic energy, and headed toward the school. I had no more contracts tonight, so I felt like taking a walk.

“Isn’t that hypocritical?” I asked myself.

I wasn’t entirely sure I believed the lesson I’d given those punks. But a contract was a contract: the client had hired me to teach five upperclassmen who bullied weaker students a lesson. And I had. I’m an excellent teacher. They’d remember my lesson for a long time, though none of them would suffer any serious injuries.

Their faces would stay black and blue for quite a while, though, and the pain all over their bodies would make moving difficult. In another ten minutes, the barrier would drop, and their cries for help would carry beyond the alley.

As for the moral side of it… To the average person in this world, what I’d made those guys say was absolute truth. But to me… it wasn’t quite that simple. The cultivator in me was wincing at the nonsense I’d drilled into their heads. You’re weak? People pick on you? Then get strong and beat the hell out of them. Hit the gym. Take up martial arts. Find yourself a patron, for that matter. Swallow your pride and submit to them in exchange for protection…

Hmm, does hiring a demon to dish out a beating count as that last one? Seems like it does.

Thaaat’s complicated…

Right and wrong… Still, this isn’t the cultivation world, is it? I ought to go along with how most people see things. Then again, by their own logic, I was within my rights as the stronger one. It’s just that, to them, the weak ones were the omegas at their school, while to me their whole gang was nothing but omegas. I was stronger, so I had the right.

But! I beat them up good, scared them, beat them up again, mocked them, then gave them another thorough thrashing—all while telling them that doing that was wrong. Does that count as post-irony? Or is it just plain hypocrisy?

I got a little carried away there. Honestly, I don’t care. Work is work. If the job is to beat the shit out of someone, I beat the shit out of them. I’ve explained why their faces got rearranged. The rest isn’t my problem.

Most of my contracts are basically muscle work of one kind or another, though nothing too brutal. Sona-san explained that demons are usually assigned contracts suited to their natural talents. And, of course, Pieces serving the heirs of Great Houses don’t get the sort of jobs that could tarnish their honor and dignity—sleeping with someone and all that. Those are left to “specialists” who actually enjoy that kind of work.

Ise, for example, keeps getting the weirdest gigs. One minute he’s discussing manga and playing role-playing games until morning; the next he’s off to chat with some musclebound trap. I don’t know how I managed not to burst out laughing at him when he told me about his first contracts. But I held it together. I endured.

Hyoudou and I have been talking more often lately, especially since his buddies, Matsuda and Motohama, transferred to another school and started avoiding him. Yeah, that was my doing too.

But those guys… No, calling them guys is giving them too much credit. They’re worse than trash. Even across all my past lives, I’ve rarely met people so repulsive. They weren’t villains, no. Just vile specimens of the human race.

My first impression of them as harmless, amusing perverts crumbled when their true, rotten selves came out.

So, how did it happen? After I bluntly told Ise what I thought of him, the kid started thinking it over. Kiryu-san, who’d overheard us along with many of our classmates, helped too.

Hyoudou had already started acting calmer after joining the Occult Research Club, and now his cringe-worthy remarks were becoming less frequent. Like I said, every normal guy of a certain age thinks about sex with girls. That’s perfectly normal. Let’s be honest: even with all my mental discipline, I sometimes had naughty thoughts about one young lady or another.

It’s fine to talk about that sort of thing, but among close friends—not for everyone to hear. Though maybe that’s not quite right. You can talk about it openly, too, but Ise and his buddies were so crude about it that they sometimes disgusted even the guys, not just the girls.

School—and life in general—is all about being part of a group, especially in Japan. People talk about who’s attractive and who isn’t. No wonder Kuoh Academy has its unofficial beauty ranking. But no one called ordinary boys and girls perverts just for saying that Sona-sama or Gremory-senpai were attractive. I’d said myself that, to my taste, the student council president was the prettiest girl in school. The devil is in the details—and I should know, being a demon—and those three idiots were always dumping every last devilish detail on everyone around them.

Anyway, Ise calmed down a little and started watching what he said. Since his two buddies were still sulking, he spent most breaks hanging out with me and Aika. It happened often enough that our classmates started whispering, “Chiba-san’s taken it upon himself to straighten Issei-kun out.” In most of those conversations, though, my role was just to sit there like an owl, going “hoo-hoo.” Ise and Kiryu managed the conversation perfectly well on their own.

Matsuda and Motohama didn’t appreciate that. They started giving me openly hostile looks, and the stream of shit they were dumping on Ise got a lot worse. They said all sorts of things, but sexual filth was at the heart of it. According to them, Ise was a tyrant and a rapist who forced every girl in the club to sleep with him—and, oh God, was even fucking Kiba Yuuto, the academy’s number-one heartthrob, in the ass.

I could just about put up with that, but when those two bastards described their own—I’ll stress, their own—fantasies about sweet little kuudere Koneko-chan in graphic detail, I had to fight a fierce urge to rearrange their faces.

The last straw for them was the disciplinary committee’s “outrageous abuse of power” against their precious collection of smut. Once again, the pervert duo had dumped a pile of hentai manga and CDs onto a desk and started discussing, at full volume, how they planned to “consume” it all. When some of our female classmates protested, the one in glasses trotted out his signature line: “Leave us alone, or I’ll rape every one of you in my imagination.”

“Put it away, and make sure I don’t see it again,” I said calmly as I walked up to Matsuda’s desk and pointed at the pile of porn on it.

“At this school, the disciplinary committee has no right to search students’ bags,” Motohama sneered.

“True. But none of this is in a bag.” I picked up one of the discs. “Are either of you nineteen? No. So where did you get videos and manga that can’t be sold to minors?”

“That’s none of your—” the boy in glasses began, but I let a flicker of killing intent flare toward him and continued.

“So, I can’t search your bags, but I have every right to confiscate everything you’ve dumped on this desk. What’s more, the principal will return these ‘treasures of smut’ personally—to your parents. The only reason a juvenile affairs officer won’t be having a word with you and the adults in your families is that the school won’t want to draw attention to this. Selling porn to children is a crime. Do you understand?”

Silence was my answer.

“Consider this your first and last warning. If I see you with anything minors aren’t legally allowed to possess again, the disciplinary committee and the student council will take action.”

I actually walked away from those two in a good mood. It did annoy me a little that beating the shit out of them would take some planning. I could have worked something out, sure, but it wasn’t worth the trouble. Or rather, it wasn’t yet.

Those two degenerates couldn’t think of a better way to get back at me than the one closest to their rotten little hearts: they started spreading shit about me, too. At first, they claimed Chiba had gotten too full of himself—that a little authority had gone to my head and I’d started terrorizing students…

I ignored that without the slightest reaction. People say things like that about anyone who enforces rules, from moderators on harmless internet forums to police officers. But then Matsuda and Motohama started telling the same kind of stories they’d told about Ise, and that I couldn’t stomach.

They were wide-eyed and breathless, making up a story about me and shy little Reya, when I appeared behind them and bore down on them with enough bloodlust to make the two bastards nearly faint.

“We’ll have a little talk about this later,” I told the perverts with a kindly smile, watching their audience scatter down the corridors. “But I can tell you right now: you’ve made a terrible mistake.”

They understood what I’d meant that evening. As soon as the Sun slipped below the horizon and my buffs kicked in, I stepped through Matsuda’s bedroom window. The two of them were watching porn and discussing what was happening on the screen.

That was the end of the softcore erotica for them. Next came hardcore sadomasochism, minus the sex. The barrier kept their screams from getting out and made Matsuda’s parents ignore the room entirely, so I spent several hours recalling—and putting into practice—some “gentle” ways to inflict a great deal of pain.

Once neither of them could scream anymore and their tears and snot had formed two little puddles, I patched them up. Then I explained that we’d be spending time together like this every day for as long as they attended my academy. With a bright, kindly smile, I advised them to stay away from my best friend Ise and never fantasize about anyone on our student council.

“Even if I’m not around,” I said, tearing another thick volume of hentai manga in half before their eyes, “that doesn’t mean I won’t find out. And when I do, I’ll be back. Next time, you won’t get off with just a couple of hours of torture for beginners. Do we understand each other?”

And that’s the end of Matsuda and Motohama’s story. After three days of skipping school, their parents collected their records, and those two horny jackasses went to another school.

I’d call it a classic win-win. I got the satisfaction, our female classmates could breathe easier, and a demon from an allied clan was free of their corrupting influence. As for the two perverts… Who gives a damn about that trash?

I wasn’t worried about them spilling the “secret,” either. No one would believe those idiots.

“This is just unfair…” Genshiro leaned back in his chair.

“Not true.” I smiled faintly without opening my eyes, well aware that he wasn’t accusing me of cheating. He was simply frustrated with the way the world worked. “I didn’t cheat.”

“That’s not what I mean! Is there anything you can’t do?”

I chuckled and set the pieces back up on the board, still without opening my eyes or emerging from deep meditation.

“I can’t play the violin, and I can’t do European dances. Waltzes, butterfly polkas, that sort of thing. There’s plenty I can’t do, actually. Besides, chess has never been all that interesting to me. It’s a little dull.”

“To each their own, of course, but I wouldn’t call chess boring,” Sona-san said, looking up from her paperwork. “It’s just that Genshiro-kun—pardon me for saying so—isn’t exactly the strongest player.”

Our secretary merely nodded with a sad sigh. He really was a weak chess player, and to his credit, he didn’t try to argue otherwise. He and I had a lull between contracts, as did Momo, who was sprawled on the sofa reading a book. So I’d been helping him kill time, devoting only a sliver of my attention to the chessboard.

“Maybe so, Sona-san.” I folded my hands in my lap; Genshiro apparently wasn’t going to try another game. “It’s a matter of taste, and honestly, I just don’t like chess. I’ll admit it’s a decent way to pass the time—far better than most mobile games. But Civilization on a brutal difficulty setting, with mods that make the AI smarter, is much more fun. And if you’re playing against a strong human opponent…”

“Hmm…” She went still behind her desk and turned toward me. A shame I couldn’t see her face clearly. Every expression of hers was beautiful, even displeasure. “Shall we play?”

“It would be my honor.” I bowed my head solemnly. “This practitioner would be delighted to please his beautiful Lady.”

“It would sound even better if you opened your eyes,” Momo observed with gentle irony. “Would anyone like some tea?”

“Yes, please.” Sona-san nodded gratefully, gave an almost inaudible huff, and set her papers aside. “Genshiro-kun, may I have your seat?”

And so I did battle with my Lady. Well, “battle” might be overstating it. I moved the pieces, continued constructing an array inside my brain, and leisurely sipped the tea brewed by our white-haired angel. I know, I know—Momo is a demon. But I can’t bring myself to call our warm Snow Queen anything else.

Hanaka Momo is a person… er, all right, a demon I truly admire. She’s a different person with us than she is with everyone else: gentle and kind within our clan, with a soft sense of humor that never stings, but a cold, distant Snow Queen to outsiders.

She’s the daughter of wealthy parents who work closely with the Sitori conglomerate, House Sitri’s front in the mortal world. Before her reincarnation as a demon, she was a young woman in such poor health that only pride and stubbornness kept her standing tall. She searched for a way to overcome her illnesses on her own. She noticed something strange about the Hanaka family’s business partners, investigated with only the resources available to her, drew her own conclusions, and contacted Sona-sama herself.

My Lady had been just as impressed as I was when I heard the story. That girl, whose eyes were cold to everyone but a select few, hadn’t told herself it was all nonsense. She hadn’t dismissed the facts as impossible in the modern world. She hadn’t even been afraid to speak directly to someone she firmly believed was either a demon or a powerful witch. Armed with nothing but her intelligence and powers of observation, she’d found a demon on her own and asked her to grant a wish.

After several conversations, Momo joined my Lady’s clan, gaining immortality and the robust health of a demon. She had quite literally solved her own problems. And now her wonderful smile lit up the student council rooms, and…

Hold on… Wait…

I surfaced from deep meditation, paused work on the array, and studied the board. What the Devil?! I stopped meditating altogether and opened my eyes. A trap. And it had just snapped shut. I’d lost the game. After Sona-san’s last move, anything I did would lead only… to defeat?!

I looked up at my Lady, and my heart skipped a beat. She… really was beautiful. She was absently winding a lock of hair around one finger. Her face was calm and unreadable, but triumph burned in the depths of her violet eyes. Demoness… How had I missed this?

“Figured it out?” The faint smile of triumph on her perfect face filled me with admiration. “That was quick.”

“Not quick enough.” I bowed my head, resting my palms on my knees, and conceded defeat. “You won, Sitri-sama. That was beautifully played.”

“Sona, Taro-kun, please…” She sighed softly and gave me a reproachful look, though the quiet pleasure of victory was still there. “You underestimate chess. As you can see, it doesn’t have to be boring.”

“Forgive me, Sona-sama.” The corners of my mouth lifted as I met her eyes. “Might this young man ask his Lady for a rematch?”

“Not today, Taro-kun.” She smiled gently, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “I have a lot of work, so we’ll play again another time.”

“As you wish.” I gave another small bow without rising from my chair. As she passed, her fingertips brushed my shoulder. I didn’t even bristle at the gesture of encouragement. She could have given me a patronizing pat on the shoulder, and I’d have accepted it as only natural.

I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. I let out a long breath, surprised that I could still feel the fleeting touch of her delicate fingers on my shoulder. Was it because I’d… lost? Lost to a girl who wasn’t even twenty? Had I been too condescending? Too sure of myself!

Yes. Yes, yes, yes! That’s it! Such a small thing. A game of chess. That’s all it seemed to be, right? But the monster behind it was much bigger. Fat, overfed, lazy. Overconfidence. Pride. Condescension. I mean, seriously—could someone who’d lived for millennia lose to a very clever but incredibly young woman? Turns out he could. Quite easily, too!

Replaying our game in my mind, I saw how she’d guided it, setting traps with hardly any effort. One, three, too many to count! I’d simply followed the path she’d laid for me until, with a single move, Sona-san cut off every escape. My Lady had taken on a powerful monster who hadn’t taken her seriously. And won.

A happy grin spread across my face, and I let out a loud, satisfied sigh without caring who heard it.

“You lost, but you look awfully pleased…” Momo sounded surprised.

“That was magnificent, Momo-san,” I told her sincerely. “Elegant, beautiful, delightful… Perfect. Just what I’d expect from our Lady.”

“You’re… strange.” A soft laugh came from the sofa, followed by the rustle of a turning page. “But yes, Sona-san is a chess genius. You never stood a chance.”

I took another sip of the delicious tea and returned to the here and now. A faint smile played on Momo’s lips. Judging by his miserable expression, Genshiro was still brooding over what a terrible chess player he was, while Sona-san sorted through her paperwork, looking thoroughly absorbed in it. Only the charmingly pink tips of her ears gave her away.

“You’re right, Momo-san,” I agreed, settling more comfortably into my chair without taking my eyes off my Lady. “Our Lady is not only breathtakingly beautiful but also incredibly intelligent.”

Now that was a little victory of my own. I half-closed my eyes in satisfaction, hiding my smile behind my teacup as I watched the blush spread from her reddened ears across her cheeks. The beautiful girl was doing her best to look as though our words didn’t affect her. Then she glanced at me with those violet eyes, ruining the act—and blushed even harder.

“All right, enough,” Sona-san said sternly, making a note on another document without looking up. “Get back to…” She paused to think, and her expression flickered with uncertainty and unmistakable embarrassment. “Well… whatever it is you’re doing.”

I nodded, though she wasn’t looking, closed my eyes, and sank back into meditation with a pleasant warmth in my chest.