Chapter 114: Office Routine (Patreon)

And that was exactly why — because she was the primal devil "Control," one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, a being who had lived for who-knew-how-long and witnessed every shade of human life—

No one could claim to fully understand what went on in her mind.

What truly worried Ivan was whether Makima had already secretly taken control of him.

Earlier he'd told her flatly that she couldn't control him, but deep down he wasn't entirely sure.

After all, if this really was the Makima from the Chainsaw Man world, reincarnated here—

then... Ivan could only hope her powers were limited in this world.

Otherwise, in a world with no other devils to counter her, everyone here was probably doomed.

Ivan pushed the thought aside and gave a small nod.

He picked up his chopsticks and took a bite.

"This is really good. Did you teach yourself?"

Makima smiled faintly and nodded.

"I'm happy to earn Master's approval."

Ivan smiled.

"Let's eat together."

Makima obediently agreed and sat down beside him.

She ate quietly, her manners elegant, chewing slowly.

Yet her gaze kept drifting toward Ivan, faint but persistent.

Silently, she murmured to herself...

(Wonderful, Ivan-chan. My eye for these things was right after all — you really are the most special doggy.)

Ivan, of course, had no idea what was going through Makima's mind.

Well, would you look at that — after all this back and forth, she still thought of him as a pet dog.

Otherwise, he'd have made sure she learned exactly who was in charge.

After the meal, Makima washed the dishes, then walked into Ivan's bedroom as though it were the most natural thing in the world, and lay down beside him.

Ivan, resting with his eyes closed, had already heard her footsteps, but he gave nothing away.

Then he felt a warm, soft body pull him into an embrace.

As if he were nothing more than a body pillow.

Ivan's eyes snapped open, and he pulled himself free.

Makima sat up, looking at him with an innocent expression.

"Master~ Is something wrong?"

"Behavior like this makes me uncomfortable."

Makima blinked, her expression still perfectly innocent.

"Oh? So what does Master mean, exactly?"

Hearing that, Ivan thought about what would come next.

He struggled to keep a straight face.

"There's room on the couch. You're sleeping there tonight."

Without waiting for her reply, Ivan scooped her up in a princess carry, feigning indifference, and carried her out of the room.

By the time the bedroom door clicked locked, Makima had come back to herself. She stared at the locked door, clasped her hands behind her back, and tilted her body slightly.

"Master really is 'cute,' isn't he."

The next morning, when Ivan stepped out of the bedroom, Makima was already standing by the living room window.

She wore the same outfit as before: a white stand-collar shirt, black fitted trousers, and glossy low-heeled leather shoes.

Her long red hair was braided into a single plait that hung down to her waist, the end tied off with a black hair tie.

Noticing the sound of the door opening, she turned around, hands clasped behind her back, and gave Ivan a faint smile.

"Good morning, Master."

She seemed entirely unaffected by having been thrown out of the room the night before.

Ivan nodded, poured himself a glass of water, and leaned against the kitchen counter to take a sip.

He glanced her over for a few seconds, hesitated, then finally spoke.

"Makima, there's something I want to tell you."

"Please, go ahead."

"You're beautiful."

Ivan said it plainly, his tone calm.

"But it's exactly because you're always standing so close that I feel uncomfortable. I'm a normal man — you should understand that."

Makima blinked, caught off guard for a moment.

She stood by the window, morning light slanting across her face, and something surfaced in those golden eyes that Ivan had never seen before — not the feigned gentleness, not the polite, habitual smile she usually wore.

It was a soft, genuine contentment, as if some part of her that had always been empty had suddenly been filled.

She laughed softly.

This smile was different from every one before it.

"Beautiful."

She repeated the word softly, as though savoring its taste.

"Master said I'm beautiful."

She said nothing more, but her eyes, when they turned to Ivan, held a new kind of warmth.

No one in her original world had ever said that to her.

Every human there had regarded her with nothing but fear, or the arrogant desire to control her.

The word "beautiful" — she was hearing it for the very first time...

Ivan noticed the shift in Makima's expression. Could it be that this woman's past didn't match what he thought he knew — that something had gone differently here?

Otherwise, a single word like "beautiful" shouldn't provoke a reaction like that.

Or maybe — could it be that she couldn't control him after all? Was the System's divine power still holding her back?

A dozen guesses flickered through Ivan's mind, but now clearly wasn't the time to voice them.

He cleared his throat and changed the subject.

"I've cleared out the spare room next door for you. The sheets and covers are new — you can arrange the rest yourself. We leave for the precinct at nine this morning. You've got two more hours to yourself."

Makima didn't argue, nor did she try to close the distance. She simply nodded slightly, her tone docile.

"Understood, Master."

By now, Ivan could be fairly certain that the word "beautiful" really did hold some special power over her.

With that, she turned and walked into the room next door, gently closing the door behind her.

Ivan stood in the living room, listening to the footsteps and rustle of fabric from next door, and quietly let out a breath of relief.

Whatever Makima was actually thinking, at least on the surface, she was still willing to listen.

At nine o'clock sharp, when Ivan pushed open the door to the S.T.A.R.S. office, the room was already full.

Brad was hunched over his desk, munching on a sandwich, a helicopter maintenance log open on the screen in front of him.

Billy leaned against a filing cabinet, polishing a revolver Barry had left behind, the barrel gleaming.

Daisy sat at the far end of the long table, a stack of documents spread before her, marking them up with a red pen.

Lisa sat in the corner, quietly sipping a cup of black coffee.

Rebecca was tidying up the clutter on her desk. Seeing Ivan, she smiled and waved.

But the moment Makima walked into the office behind him, the air in the room noticeably froze.

Rebecca was the first to speak.

"Ivan, who's this?"

Every eye in the room turned to Makima.

She wore a neat, long dark-gray trench coat over a white shirt, with black trousers and low-heeled shoes.

Her red braid hung over one shoulder, her posture straight, hands relaxed at her sides, a polite and gentle smile on her face.

At the question, Ivan explained to the room.

"Her name is Makima. A girl who escaped from one of Umbrella's labs — no family, nowhere to go. She saw a news report about us on TV and came looking for me on her own."

"I've vetted her myself. She checks out — she's talented, and she can handle the work."

"A test subject?"

Billy set down the revolver. Thinking of Lisa's own past, his expression turned serious, his gaze toward Makima softening with sympathy.

"Ivan, which lab? Should we..."

Ivan said nothing. He just shook his head.