(A/N: Guess I have to do a slice of life chapter and no one can stop me from doing so.)
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Veilhem wandered through the bustling streets of the metropolis, with Makima walking beside him. Occasionally, passersby glanced their way, some chuckling softly, others casting sidelong looks. It wasn't difficult to understand why—Makima was stunning in her own way, an unusual beauty that captivated attention wherever she went.
Veilhem felt the piercing stares, the envious glances from strangers as they sized him up, wondering how he, of all people, had managed to walk arm-in-arm with her.
The sensation was odd, a strange tension prickling his head. But what could he do? He couldn't go around correcting people's assumptions, and in fact, he didn't care enough to try. He let out a sigh and returned his focus to Makima, who was knowingly grinning over his shoulder.
Their matching outfits, a casual play on words, embarrassed him slightly: his shirt proclaimed. [I come in peace.] He turned his gaze at her.
Makima, with a fitted and stylish, hugging her curved and well-proportioned body perfectly, attired with the words. [I'm peace.]
It was a playful, perhaps even adorable, touch, but it did not fit the personalities of them. Even so, he gave in to Makima's insistence and allowed himself to be pulled into the bizarre resemblance of normalcy that he had long since forgotten.
They spent the morning moving from shop to shop, visiting a cinema, and walking arm in arm like any ordinary couple. It was a rare day when he wasn't clad in his heavy and rusty black armor, his guard down, blending in with everyone else in the city. Perhaps he did enjoy it like this.
They were just wrapping up their shopping trips at noon, and he could not help but think that, despite its simplicity, this brief outing was somehow suited to his tastes.
While strolling along the crowded streets, Veilhem spotted a large structure in the distance, with a podium and banners. He pointed to it with curiosity. "What's that place for?"
Makima followed his gaze. "That? It's for horse racing. Want to check it out?" She raised a brow, her expression as unreadable as ever. Veilhem nodded, intrigued, and soon they made their way over, paying the entrance fee before entering the bustling venue.
Inside, the race was already in progress. Horse number four was leading, though others were close behind, a flurry of excitement rippling through the crowd as people erupted in cheers and placed bets.
"Number 7-F and 8-F..."
As they traced along the numbers to find seats, Veilhem's attention drifted to a man seated alone in the back row—a figure with mid-length raven hair, muscular, and seemingly indifferent to the race unfolding before him. He had his foot propped up on the seat in front of him and was leaning back, exuding a relaxed yet unapproachable air around him.
Something about the man tugged at Veilhem's memory. He felt a familiarity, a connection to this stranger, though he couldn't place it exactly. Memories as an undead were murky at best; they came and went, fragmented and unreliable. As frustration started to set in, a soft tap on his back jolted him out of his reverie. Startled, he turned to find Makima, who had bumped into him after he had stopped abruptly.
"What's wrong?" she asked, poking out from behind and placing her head on his shoulder with a hint of curiosity. Her eyes focused on his side profile as her hair swayed ever so slightly and followed the movement of her head.
Veilhem gestured towards the man he still had seen on the back row and explained. "I feel like I've seen him before. Do you recognize that guy over there?"
Makima tilted her head thoughtfully. "Oh, that's the man who stopped you from going on a rampage the first time you visited the Zenin Clan. Toji Zenin— aka, the Sorcerer Killer. He's… rather a troublesome individual to deal with." She leaned on his shoulder, her chin propped up as she watched the man with a knowing expression.
Hearing the explanation from Makima, Veilhem nodded in understanding why he had this vague feeling earlier.
Toji, apparently aware of their attention, turned his head to glance at them, his gaze sharp and mildly annoyed. Veilhem could feel the piercing gaze as Toji, perhaps sensing the intrusion, cracked his neck and scowled in their direction.
"I think we should say hello." Veilhem murmured, patting Makima's head as she let out a satisfying hum before lifting his hand in a small wave. They made their way over, settling in the seats nearby.
Toji's eyes narrowed as they approached, his expression tinged with hostility.
"What's the special occasion?" he muttered, his voice laced with disdain. He eyed them with suspicion, then spat out a cursed spirit that coiled around his torso like some grotesque pet.
Veilhem raised both of his hand, indicating that they didn't come here to fight. "We're not here to fight, just to watch the race. It's…a coincidence to meet you here." He turned his eyes back to the race, sensing Toji's irritation but not particularly bothered by it.
Toji clicked his tongue, though he begrudgingly retracted the spirit, swallowing it once more, a sight that made Veilhem grimace.
"Gross, man," he muttered, imagining the unpleasantness of having to ingest something so foul and disgusting. Just think of it sent a shiver down his spine.
Toji shot him a scornful look. "You're one to talk. Which bastard gets stabbed in the head and walks it off like it's nothing?"
Veilhem chuckled, unable to come up with a proper response. "That's fair." He gave a traditional expression of thanks, placing one hand on his chest, a gesture that had significance in his past life. "Still, I owe you thanks."
Toji's lips twisted into a wry smile. "Thanking me for stabbing you in the head? If you're really grateful, why not toss some cash my way?"
Before Veilhem could respond, Makima, who had been watching in amused silence, interjected. She made an "OK" gesture with her fingers, a small smile playing on her lips. "Consider it done. Mr. Sorcerer Killer, how would you like to discuss a deal?" Her eyes scanned him with a cool intensity that hinted at ulterior motives.
Toji paused, his interest piqued by her sudden proposition, though he maintained his guarded stance. "What's this deal?"
She leaned in, her tone smooth. "Stall the arrival of the Star Plasma Vessel. That's all."
Toji blinked, clearly taken aback by the simplicity of her request. "Stall, huh? That's quite easy." He shrugged as if it were a minor inconvenience.
"I'd consider it… but I'm already under contract with someone else, and they're paying handsomely." Then he hesitated, returning to watch the race, his gaze momentarily distracted.
The horse he had bet on lost the race, and he threw his crumpled betting slip to the ground with a defeated sigh.
Makima, however, remained unperturbed. She held up her hand, fingers spread. "Let's say… five."
"Million?" Toji raised an eyebrow but then scoffed, his expression unimpressed. "Sorry lady, I have a work ethic."
Makima's smile widened, and she didn't skip a beat. "Fifty million."
Toji's laugh was more genuine this time—a hint of surprise mixed with amusement. "But I didn't say that my ethics aren't flexible, then."
Veilhem raised an eyebrow, thinking about what a staggering sum like fifty million could buy. He was somewhat out of touch with monetary matters, so he kept quiet, though Makima caught his questioning glance.
She poked his cheek, teasing him lightly. "Hehe, fifty million could buy a lot of food, you know."
She knew that controlling vast amounts of money was hardly an effort for her. If she wanted, she could manipulate markets or simply ask the wealthy to 'donate' what she needed. In her hands, money was merely a tool that could be readily influenced by her power. Everything that had some control and manipulation in it was her domain.
Exposed by her antic, Veilhem brushed her hand away in a huff, but she continued to poke him, her smug grin only growing as she annoyed him. The more he tried to ignore it, the more she would take pleasure in teasing him. What a nasty woman!!
Unable to handle it anymore, he squeezed her face in his hand. He perfectly grasped her cheek with his big hand. There was something oddly alluring about the softness and the way her eyes were turned up to him. He kept squeezing her cheeks until she grasped his hand because she could stand it no longer. When he realized what he had just done was indecent, he diverted his gaze in embarrassment, yet he didn't remove his hand.
Damn, get a grip of yourself, Veilhem!
"Lovebirds, I swear." Toji watched them, a shadow of something distant flickering in his eyes. He recognized the quiet comfort between them, the easy camaraderie, and it stirred memories of a happier time in his life. The nostalgia lingered, painful and unwelcome. He brushed it aside with a self-deprecating smile, knowing that such memories belonged to a past he had long since abandoned.
With a sigh, he shifted back to the present, focusing on the deal. "And what's the time limit?"
"Two days should be enough," Makima replied, her expression composed once again.
"Deal." Toji stretched, letting out a yawn. "But remember, my name's Toji Fushiguro, not Zenin." His voice hardened as he spoke, a glint of warning in his gaze that suggested buried anger.
Makima inclined her head, acknowledging him with a composed smile. "I shall keep that in mind." she said, waving him off. Veilhem gave him a polite nod as Toji turned and walked away.