The clearing stilled and dozens of eyes locked onto him, and just like that, their bravado bled out.

Ain’s ears twitched, one tail flick. Gin’s gaze slid past him.

"Heh. About time," Sereph muttered, clicking his tongue with a lazy grin. “You really like that whole dramatic entrance thing, don’t you? You always do that.”

Gin didn’t answer. He stepped forward with silent confidence, his katana sliding from its sheath in one smooth, unhurried motion.

Sereph’s smirk widened. “So… what is this? Gonna beg me for their lives now? How noble.”

Gin’s expression didn’t change. “I don't beg.”

Sereph let out a dry laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Still pretending you’re better than this?” He tilted his head. “You really think you’re above all of us, huh?”

He took a step forward. Shoved Gin once, twice, but he didn’t react.

“You know, it’s almost cute how you pretend not to care,” Sereph sneered. “But I’ve seen what you are underneath all that control. You think if you hold it in long enough, it’ll disappear? You think it makes you clean?”

Gin’s grip on the sword didn’t tighten. He didn’t need to react. That was the difference; he never wasted anything.

Sereph's eyes gleamed. "I wonder how long you'd stay calm if I did something to her."

In an instant, a dagger materialized from the shadows in his hand and flung through the air toward Juno.

A flash of silver intercepted it mid-flight. The shadow blade shattered on impact, dissolving back into wisps of darkness. Gin hadn't even looked. Juno staggered back, breath caught.

Sereph's smirk twitched. For a second, the mask cracked. He felt it, the pressure in the air.

And Gin? Still calm, unreadable. The only difference was that single green eye that turned sharper, a fraction colder.

Sereph lunged.

Gin’s blade moved. Where Sereph came with chaos and fury, Gin answered with detachment and precision.

Juno watched, knowing that Gin could end this whenever he wanted, but he held back for reasons she couldn't understand.

Sereph came again with teeth bared, a shadow blade slashing toward Gin's ribs, but it was too slow and predictable. Gin sidestepped and parried in one motion, steel sparking against darkness as Sereph staggered back.

Gin let him swing and exhaust himself while his own movements stayed controlled and steady. Sereph grew more desperate with each clash, shadow weapons dissolving and reforming in increasingly frantic hands while Gin's breathing never changed.

He finally moved, a sudden pivot, and in one breathless moment, Gin twisted his blade with a sharp snap, dissolving Sereph's weapon before he could react.

Gin stepped in.

His knee slammed into Sereph’s stomach. All the air tore from Sereph’s lungs in a ragged choke, Gin grabbed him by his clothes with his free hand and shoved him against a tree. He doubled over, but the blade was already at his throat, the tip pressing just enough to draw a thin thread of blood.

Sereph’s hands hovered midair, unsure if he should grab, run, or fall. His eyes met Gin’s; wide and panicked, the swagger cracked clean down the middle.

Gin's expression never shifted, while Sereph's breath came in ragged gasps. The smirk had vanished, replaced by something pained, but the fight in him hadn't died.

He looked up at Gin, eyes glassy, jaw trembling from the effort it took to speak. “Go on…” he rasped, almost lost beneath the wind. “Kill me.”

Gin stood tall, katana still raise. His other hand grabbing the demon by the shirt, fingers twitching slightly. Sweat ran down his temple, cooling too fast in the night air, making his skin prickle.

He kept his eye locked on Sereph’s. And for a second, it was just the two of them. The battlefield faded. The trees, the ruins, the others, they all blurred out.

He didn’t deserve to walk away. Gin knew that. Every part of him screamed to end it, right here, blade to throat, justice delivered. But…

He threw him to the ground.

“Leave,” he said, voice firm.

Sereph blinked, stunned, then scoffed a short, bitter laugh, though it stuttered in his throat from the pain. He slowly stood, almost staggering, keeping a hand on his side. His golden eyes searched Gin’s face, unreadable for the first time.

But then there it was. That sneer.

“That’s what I thought,” he muttered. And then he turned, limping toward the trees, disappearing into the dark, the other demons following him.

Gin held his stance for a moment longer. Even after the demons were gone.

He let out a slow breath, then reached up and dragged the back of his hand across his forehead. A few strands of hair stuck to his cheek; he pushed them back absently, his fingers trembling once before he steadied them.

Behind him, Juno hadn’t moved. Her eyes stayed wide, frozen on the spot where Sereph had stood. But she was still breathing fast. Her hands were clenched tight at her sides, like she wasn’t sure it was over.

Ain stood next to her, watching Gin with an unreadable expression.

Gin finally turned to them, eye narrowing. His voice was rougher than usual, tinged with lingering adrenaline.

“You both good?”

Ain blinked at her, then dramatically tilted his head at Gin. “Wow. So tender. I could weep,” he whispered, voice laced with mock awe. “Our knight in bloodstained armor.”

Juno swallowed hard, then nodded once, ignoring Ain’s comment. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice cracked slightly. “Thank you.”

Gin didn’t respond to the emotion in her voice. He simply looked at her a moment longer, then reached into the pocket of his coat. He pulled something small and silver out, and with a flick of his wrist, tossed it toward her.

She caught it on instinct. Her eyes dropped to it.

Juno turned the necklace over in her palm, her fingers trembling. The silver chain was cold, slightly tarnished. The name engraved on the charm: Yves, sent a jolt through her chest.

“Where… where did you find this?”

Gin didn’t look at her. His gaze was fixed on the dark treeline, still tracking threats in the shadows. The fight may have been over, but his posture hadn’t relaxed.

“Back there,” he muttered. He finally glanced at her, his single unreadable green eye. “He was here.”

Juno stared at the necklace, her chest tightening. “So he’s alive?”

Gin didn’t answer immediately. He watched her for a beat too long, his jaw tightening like he was debating whether to say what he really thought.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I’ll help you find him.”

Her head snapped up, hope flickering in her eyes.

But Gin’s voice was colder than before. “After that, we’re done.”

“What?”

“You go back to your world, and I won’t see you again.” Gin said, stepping past her. “That’s the deal.”

Juno blinked, caught off guard. “What– why?”

He didn’t turn around, but his shoulders stiffened slightly, as if the weight of his words pressed harder than he’d let on. His voice was cold. “You don’t belong in this mess.”

Juno opened her mouth to argue, but Gin was already walking away. She lingered in place, breath shallow, holding the necklace tighter in her hand.

Ain appeared at her side without a sound, a slight bounce in his step.

“Aw, don’t look so crushed,” he said lightly, almost sing-song. “He’s always like that. Likes to pretend he doesn’t care. Real convincing, huh?”

Juno didn’t answer, her eyes still fixed on Gin’s back.

Ain leaned in closer, his voice dropped. “But here’s a secret,” he whispered. “He doesn’t get to decide what happens to you.”

She frowned, glancing at him now.

Ain straightened with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I do.”

Juno stared at him, caught between unease and confusion.

Ain gave her a wink. “Kidding. Kind of.” He twirled his tail dramatically. “Don’t worry, little human. You're not disposable just yet.”

And with that, he strolled ahead as if he hadn’t just completely scrambled her thoughts.

She followed, her heartbeat unsettled, not just from Ain’s words, but from the feeling that none of them were being entirely honest.