The steam still lingered in the air as Kazuya pushed open the bathroom door. The soft late-afternoon light streamed through the apartment's windows, gilding his damp skin. He wore only loose dark shorts, hanging low on his hips.
No shirt.
No worries.
Water trickled slowly down his chiseled pecs, tracing the ridges of his abs as if paying homage to each line of that sculpted physique. His body was an absurd advantage his new "self" offered, as if Gojo Satoru had been retouched by an artist who took the concept of fanservice to the extreme.
"First day… not bad…" he muttered, drying his hair with a towel as he walked to the bedroom.
It had been an hour since he'd returned from school, and he'd spent that time training with his Sacred Gear, which was more exhausting than he'd expected. He'd also reviewed spells—not from this world, but those of Ritsuka Fujimaru, acquired through the experience card from [Fate Gacha]. It was still surreal to think that his former otaku self was now this kind of protagonist.
*Knock. Knock. Knock.*
Three soft taps on the door. Kazuya raised an eyebrow.
"…This late?"
He grabbed a shirt from the chair, hesitated… and left it there. Better to seem casual. After all, whoever it was, there was nothing wrong with being comfortable in his own home.
When he opened the door, the world took on a reddish hue.
Rias Gremory stood there. Alone. Her hair gleamed under the setting sun, her school uniform somehow both elegantly refined and dangerously sensual, as only she could manage.
"Good afternoon, Kazuya…" she said with a smile designed for heart stress tests. "Not interrupting anything, am I?"
Kazuya shrugged, opening the door wider.
"Just post-shower vibes. But since you're here… come in."
Rias stepped past him, and though she didn't look directly, her eyes caught every inch of the sight before her. The shirtless torso, the wet hair, the skin still warm…
"Looks like our teacher takes paired projects very seriously," she commented, her tone light but her eyes subtly sharp.
Kazuya locked the door with a soft click and replied while grabbing two water bottles from the kitchen, "Or maybe she just wanted you to have a plausible excuse to visit my place."
Rias accepted the bottle with a smile playing on her lips.
"Funny. I was thinking the exact same thing."
She sat on the sofa with the grace of an aristocrat, crossing her legs with studied ease. Her blazer was draped over her bag, and her loosened tie offered glimpses that definitely weren't in the school handbook.
Her eyes flicked, for a moment, to Kazuya's nape as he walked and sat across from her. To the defined muscles of his back, to his carefree posture.
She bit the corner of her lip lightly.
It wasn't normal. It wasn't fair. From the first day, there was something about him that stirred her instincts—not just those of a demon, a creature of sin, but of a young woman.
It was more than attraction.
It was obsession.
Kazuya sat on the floor, facing the coffee table, as if this were just a casual scene of classmates doing homework.
"You always do projects like this… shirtless?" Rias asked with that smile that said, *I'm teasing, but not really.*
Kazuya stretched out on the floor, propping his arms behind his head and looking at her with an air too calm—the kind of guy who knew exactly the effect he had and wasn't in a rush to exploit it.
"Only when the project partner is pretty enough to justify it."
Rias raised an eyebrow but didn't hide her smile. She'd heard bolder lines from dumber guys, but what Kazuya had, above all—beyond a devilishly beautiful appearance that outshone any male demon—was a certain personality, a charm, that was dangerously effective.
"Presumptuous…" she said, pulling her notebook from her bag and crossing her legs again.
"Confident," he corrected, grabbing a pen and the book for their topic.
Kazuya jotted notes as he spoke:
"So… we've got a guy from the 11th century who was basically the perfect seducer and another from the 18th century so emotionally intense he became synonymous with drama."
"Genji and Werther," Rias murmured, resting her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. "An imperial prince and a melancholic writer. Both handsome, both charismatic… but only one leaves a trail of broken hearts without dying in the process."
Kazuya glanced sideways. "Which type do you prefer?"
"Genji seems like the kind who'd drag a game out for months. Werther, at least, gets to the point."
He raised an eyebrow. "To the point… and then straight to the grave."
Rias let out a muffled giggle. "Dramatic, yes. But at least he was sincere. Genji was more appearance than essence."
"But that's the point, isn't it?" Kazuya said, now more serious. "The charm of these guys isn't just in what they show. It's in the contrast. Genji, all idealized, is actually kind of a jerk. Werther seems like a pure romantic, but he's stuck in a cycle of obsession and escapism. They're both walking masks—one's gilded, the other's soaked in tears."
Rias stared at him for a few seconds, surprised. He was still in shorts, still with wet hair… but suddenly, he was also intelligent in an irritatingly irresistible way.
"You're weird, Kazuya," she said, almost in a whisper.
It was maddening. *He* was maddening.
And yet, every detail only made her want more.
"Huh? How so?"
"You actually understand literature," she commented casually, trying to hide the warmth in her voice. "I thought otakus only read light novels."
Kazuya let out a short laugh. "Oh, that? Well, my old self probably was like that. But after… I don't know, some slaps from life, you end up reading everything. Even Werther whining over a taken girl."
Rias leaned toward him, pretending to check what he was writing but deliberately invading his personal space. The scent of his shower lingered, and she had to fight to stay focused.
"So, are you more Genji or Werther, then?"
"I'm the type who doesn't throw himself in a river for anyone, if that's what you're asking." He turned his face to her.
Rias smiled. "That's good. There are already too many people drowning for others."
Her eyes danced between his and his mouth. Almost like a test.
"And you, Rias?" he asked with a sly smile. "Do you see yourself as a tragic heroine or one of those femme fatales from French novels?"
She laughed—a low sound, full of both rehearsed and genuine charm. "Depends. The tragic heroine ends up alone or dead. The femme fatale usually gets what she wants."
"And what does she want?" He knew the answer. Maybe. But he wanted to hear it from her.
Rias held his gaze longer than she should have. "That depends on the day."
Kazuya smirked.
"So…" he resumed, "how do we split the text? I start with Genji, you take Werther?"
"You really want to leave me with the romantic suicide?"
"You're better equipped to handle intense emotions. I'm just the pretty guy who fakes depth."
Rias stared at him again. "You're starting to remind me of our project theme."
"Charm and essence?"
"Exactly. Except you're worse. Because you might have both."
For a second, Kazuya considered responding with a quip or provocation, but he realized the girl was serious. Since when had she been this interested in him? In his predecessor's memories, there weren't many interactions between them, given he'd only been in Kuoh for a week. Though he was arguably the most handsome man in the world right now, he didn't think Rias would fall for looks alone.
"Right…" she said, snapping him out of his reverie with a forced casual tone, grabbing the pen. "You start with Genji, I'll take Werther. Then we combine the analyses and revise."
"Deal," Kazuya replied, already writing in that absurdly beautiful handwriting, as if even that had been stolen from some untouchable anime protagonist model.
Rias tried to focus on her notebook. Write. Analyze. Focus. *Focus, Rias.* But the problem was that he was there, two meters away, with that body, that attitude, that aura… and now, that brain.
He was a walking trap.
And she was strolling right into it with a smile on her face.
"Did you know *The Tale of Genji* isn't just about him sleeping around?" Kazuya commented as if discussing the weather. "There's a part where he falls for an older woman who rejects him… and it haunts him for years."
Rias looked over her notebook. "Are you trying to say he was deep?"
"No, I'm saying even a guy who beds half the imperial court has trauma."
"And you relate to that?"
Kazuya stopped writing and propped his chin on his hand. "Nah. I just find it interesting how the author used romance as a mirror for personal emptiness. Sometimes we get involved with others to fill something we don't even know we've lost."
Rias stared at him, her playful expression fading. For a moment, the air between them grew heavy. Almost intimate. The kind of silence that felt on the verge of becoming something else—something deeper, more intense.
But then Kazuya blinked, flashed a lopsided smile, and the mood returned to normal.
"Werther does that too," Rias said, resuming her pose. "He falls in love because he can't handle the world around him. The conventions. The loneliness. Charlotte becomes a symbol, not a person."
"Do you think people do that with you?"
She was caught off guard by the direct question but didn't look away.
"Of course," she replied, lifting her chin slightly. "I'm the heiress of a wealthy family. Most people only see the title. Or the body. Or the name."
Kazuya leaned back on the sofa. "And what do you want them to see?"
She looked at him for a moment, serious. "I want them to see the girl. Rias. That's all."
Kazuya nodded slowly, with something almost like respect in his eyes. "Then we're even."
"How so?"
"Everyone looks at me and sees a hopeless otaku or some guy who got lucky with genetics and looks. No one asks what's underneath."
"And what's underneath?" she asked, half-teasing, half genuinely curious.
He smiled, that same crooked, heart-fluttering smile that seemed carved to make pulses race.
"You'll have to keep doing group projects to find out."
Rias rolled her eyes with a low laugh but didn't say no.
Then Kazuya tilted his head, casually as if talking about the weather, but with a sincerity that cut through. "And this Rias you want people to see… does she also like to be heard?"
For a moment, time seemed to hold its breath.
The question was simple. But there was something in his voice—an unexpected softness, a raw honesty—that made Rias's heart stumble in her chest. As if, for the first time in a long while, someone was asking not out of obligation or self-interest, but because they genuinely wanted to know.
She felt her face warm, as if the blush had a life of its own.
And it was there, in that suspended second, with the afternoon light gilding Kazuya's hair and his gaze locked on hers without expectation, that Rias Gremory realized: she was in danger.
Because this wasn't just charm.
It was care.
It was attention.
It was *him*.
"Depends on who's listening," she said, her voice softer than intended, laced with something that sounded dangerously like hope.
Kazuya just smiled. Not with vanity. With kindness. As if he understood everything. And still wanted to stay.
They continued the project, and Rias tried to focus.
Keyword: *tried*.
The problem was that every time Kazuya ran a hand through his hair, it felt like the air in the room took on a faint scent of provocation.
"You always write like that?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at his handwriting in the notebook. "It looks like a visual novel font."
"I *am* a visual novel font," he replied without even looking up.
"And you?" he asked, glancing her way. "Always cross your legs like that during projects?"
Rias didn't answer. She just crossed them again, this time with deliberate slowness, a small challenge hidden in the gesture. She noticed when his eyes followed the movement. For less than a second.
Enough.
"I'm testing your focus," she said casually. "You know, as president of the Occult Research Club, I need to ensure your instincts aren't… a problem."
Kazuya tilted his head.
"And the verdict?"
"Still under review," she replied with an almost cruel smile.
The silence that followed was like stretching a rubber band.
She stood.
"I think… for today, the analysis is solid," she said, trying to sound firm.
He looked at her, still seated. Not surprised. Not disappointed. Just curious. Almost as if studying her decision with more interest than necessary.
"Project done?"
"For now," she replied, grabbing her blazer and draping it over her arm. "But we still have Werther to dive into. And I want to see if you're really good with tragic emotions."
Kazuya smiled.
"Can't wait for the next session."
She walked to the door but, before turning the knob, cast a glance over her shoulder.
"And, Kazuya?"
"Hm?"
"Be careful what you wish to discover about me."
She left, and only then did she realize how fast her heart was beating.