Chapter 22 : You don’t need to worry
Delicious?
Via jolted at Lucy’s sudden words.
Is she going to eat me?
Her Demon King memories flashed: barbaric tribes who cannibalized—same race, other races, all fair game.
“You—?”
The pink-haired girl shot up, putting distance between them.
“Why so startled? I’m complimenting you. I rarely say that to other girls.”
Lucy watched with predatory interest—eyes appraising prey.
“Lucy, your words are weird.”
Something felt off.
Lucy was high nobility—no cannibal hobbies. The “compliment” had ulterior motives.
But why?
Approaching Via gained nothing. Her reputation was toxic—proximity damaged social standing.
And Lucy gained zero from her.
“Has no one ever praised you like this?” Lucy asked curiously.
“Praised what?”
“That you’re cuter than everyone around you.”
“…?”
Via connected dots.
Lucy’s circle: all girls, stunning. Boys who tried approaching got warned off.
Rumors: Lucy took different girls to her dorm at night—new pretty faces every few days.
So she’s—
“Lucy, I’ve heard rumors—you take girls back to your dorm at night… right?”
“Oh? Those rumors?”
“Is it true?”
“Of course it’s fake.”
Via exhaled—overthinking.
But Lucy’s next line snapped tension back.
“Because I take girls back daytime too,” Lucy smiled.
“What do you do?!”
“Do? Play games, talk ideals, future—lots to discuss.”
Lucy inspected her nails, smirking.
Via wanted out.
Instinct screamed: entangled with Lucy = trouble.
“I’ve got things—excuse me…”
“Wait.”
Lucy stood, blocking her path.
“I’ve seen it—you’re ostracized, studying’s hard, right?”
“So?”
“I can fix that. Like with idiot Owen.”
“Lucy, you’d help me out of kindness?”
“Of course—if you hang with me, play together. While I’m at Avalon, no one touches you.”
“Bit exaggerated…”
“Not at all. I noticed you day one.”
Lucy stepped in—kabedon.
She’d wanted Via forever.
Other girls pretty—but lacked something.
Sylvia’s daughter.
Talent and personality: nothing like the perfect saintess.
But looks and body—inherited perfection.
Lucy fantasized: Via in Sylvia cosplay, back to dorm—“chat”.
Others cosplaying lacked flavor. Saintess’s own daughter—unique thrill.
Revered Sylvia: gone forever.
Heavily guarded Sophie: untouchable.
Next best—discarded Via: easiest mark.
“Holy Land stipend’s pathetic, right? Never seen you in casuals. Besides handling bullies—come to me. Pocket money. Pretty clothes, toys—no problem.”
“Pocket money…?”
Via wavered a second.
Holy Land allowance: barely survival.
Lucy’s status: money no object—could deliver.
Workshop needed funds—she was broke.
No cash, no power-up.
Just tag along like other girls…
No.
Relying on others, groveling—disgusting.
“Sorry, Lucy. Not interested. Appreciate the offer.”
Via raised arm, barrier—full rejection, no more approach.
“Without me, you can’t handle others—especially Owen. You humiliated him last assessment. He won’t swallow it.”
Lucy grabbed Via’s wrist—pressure, threatening tone.
She knew Via’s type—scare a bit, turns soft, easy.
Can’t refuse.
Favi heiress: dead set on Via.
“With me, Owen-types never bother you. At Avalon now, only I will help—only I can.”
“…”
Via silent, head down.
Lucy smiled—nailed it. Pink-hair: pushover.
Already planning dorm “conversation” topics.
But—
Via flung her hand off.
“So high and mighty.”
Via looked up—direct, no dodge.
“You’re rejecting?”
Lucy stunned—rebuffed?
“Without me—handle others how?”
“Don’t worry—”
Via brushed past, leaving a declaration:
“The old, weak me—is dead.”