The warm afternoon sun filtered through the tall windows of the Gremory estate's sitting room. A fireless hearth flickered with enchanted light, casting dancing shadows over a polished chessboard where three teenagers sat in casual but focused silence.
Lucien lounged sideways in a velvet chair, one leg crossed over the other, idly spinning a bishop between his fingers. Across from him, Sona Sitri tapped her chin, her glasses glinting as she analyzed the board. Rias sat between them, arms folded beneath her bust — already eliminated from this round, but enjoying the back-and-forth with the sharp glint of a spectator who still cared.
"Knight to E5," Lucien said at last.
Sona blinked. "Aggressive. Almost reckless."
"Calculated risk," he replied smoothly. "You taught me to sacrifice when necessary."
"Your knight for my rook is a questionable trade."
Lucien shrugged. "Sometimes what seems inefficient at the moment creates pressure later."
Rias smiled faintly, brushing a lock of crimson hair behind her ear. "You're sounding more and more like my brother."
Lucien smirked. "He cheats at chess. Subtle magic nudges."
"He does not!"
"You've never played him drunk."
That earned a reluctant snort from Rias as Sona made her move.
"Check."
Lucien stared at the board, frowning—not at the play but at what it represented. He could see the path forward, the narrow options left to him, and the unavoidable collapse.
And maybe, he thought grimly, that was the real lesson.
He tipped his king. "Well played."
"You rushed your endgame," Sona noted, resetting the pieces with precise movements.
"Maybe," Lucien said, straightening in his seat. "Or maybe I had something on my mind."
Sona quirked an eyebrow. "Kuroka?"
Rias froze.
Lucien caught it instantly — the subtle shift in her shoulders, the flicker in her eyes as her gaze slid away. That unspoken guilt… or maybe fear.
Lucien's voice softened, surprise threading through it. "You didn't know?"
She shook her head. "No. Not until just now. Koneko… doesn't talk about her."
"She won't," Lucien murmured, watching the way the afternoon light caught the faint shimmer of the ward lights overhead. "She's terrified she'll be judged. That we'll all see her as just another stray."
"But you're trying to find Kuroka? Why?" Rias asked, her voice quieter now, the playful Gremory edge replaced by something fragile.
He leaned back, eyes drifting to the ceiling. Shadows from the dancing ward lights flickered across his face, painting shifting patterns over old scars.
"She's Koneko's sister. Her real sister. And whether she was right or wrong to kill her master… we don't know the full story. All we have is an official record — and it was written by people with a stake in the outcome. If Koneko's haunted by the idea that blood makes you a monster, she'll never truly grow."
Rias looked at him — something between awe and concern flickering in her eyes. And guilt, too. Because hadn't she seen the fear in Koneko's eyes and looked away, like so many devils did when the truth got uncomfortable?
Lucien leaned forward, voice quiet but cutting through the still air like a blade.
"Ri Ri… think. How would you feel if you or I were in Kuroka and Koneko's place?"
She blinked, visibly caught off guard.
"Separated. Misunderstood. Judged for choices we never got to choose."
He let the words hang there, heavy with meaning.
"If Kuroka is truly dangerous, I'll stop her. If she deserves punishment, I'll accept that. But I have to know the truth. For Koneko's sake… and maybe for hers too."
Rias hesitated, then gave a slow nod. "Then I'll support you. Whatever you need."
She had always thought of herself as Koneko's protector… but maybe Lucien was the one fighting for her soul.
He gave her a faint, grateful smile. "Thanks, sis."
Sona cleared her throat, reclaiming a shred of detachment. "You're using emotional logic for your recruitment strategy."
Lucien chuckled, the sound low but edged with something harder.
"I'm using devil logic. Power tempered by connection. We don't just rule. We protect. Or we should."
Before anyone could respond, a subtle ripple passed through the estate's wards — a familiar magical signature brushing against the edge of the room like a whisper.
Lucien felt it first, a cold prickle at the base of his neck.
⸻
Far below, in a hidden archive beneath the estate, Sirzechs stood alone, fingers trailing over an ancient crystal orb that pulsed faintly with light. Suspended beside him floated a sealed intelligence file, the name on the cover unmistakable:
KUROKA
"She killed her master," came Grayroad's voice from the shadows. "But there were irregularities in the energy discharge. No signs of offensive intent until the final strike."
Sirzechs narrowed his eyes, crimson hair shadowing his expression. "Which means she was reacting. Not initiating."
Grayroad nodded. "Correct. Her master was experimenting — something involving demonic hybrids. The records were… redacted. He was also tied to certain members of the Old Satan Faction who want to take back over."
The crystal flickered as Sirzechs processed the implications, jaw tight.
"And you believe Lucien sensed this?"
"He suspected. Picked up on subtle gaps in the official story. He's sharper than most think."
Sirzechs exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I gave that boy space to grow… but this? This is different."
Grayroad remained silent, waiting.
"Shall I continue looking into it?"
"Yes," Sirzechs said, voice low and cold as a winter night. "Quietly. If there's any truth to her innocence or a cover-up… I want to know before the Council hears anything."
He turned from the orb, gaze hardening into something lethal.
"And double Lucien's combat regimen."
Grayroad blinked. "Double?"
Sirzechs' expression was unreadable, but his voice softened on the edges.
"If he's going to take risks like this, he'll need to be twice as strong. And smart enough not to die for his ideals."
Then, almost to himself:
"He's my son. I won't lose him to the same shadows I've spent my life chasing away."
The orb's light dimmed, and the chamber went still.
⸻
But above, high in the sunlit halls of the Gremory estate, Lucien felt something cold settle on the back of his neck — not fear, but the weight of something unseen shifting in the dark.
The game had changed.