Chapter 13 "Silent Whispers"

A wayward part of her imagination wondered if he had been reincarnated somehow, but the presence of the bruise dispelled that theory almost immediately. No high-class Devil would allow for a newly reincarnated servant to continue bearing an injury like that; it would make them appear negligent as a King.

On another note, Issei Hyōdō's 'date' with the Fallen Angel was yesterday as well. She hadn't spoken to Rias about the issue, but from what she understood, it seemed that the Gremory heiress had indeed reincarnated the second-year student that very night.

Rias had assured her that things were under control, but current evidence stood to the contrary.

"Tsubaki," she called, drawing her Queen's attention. "I want you to be on the lookout, too.

It might be nothing, but a little extra precaution wouldn't hurt. "

"Yes, Kaichō. "

Thankfully, the day went by quicker than Connor had expected, even for a Monday. Although it was certainly much more bizarre than he had anticipated.

For one thing, Issei Hyōdō was still at Kuoh. The brunette had been wandering around all day, trying to find somebody who remembered Yuuma, to no avail.

Even his two best friends and fellow perverts, to whom he had bragged to their faces on Friday, had no clue what he was talking about. Connor concluded that somebody was jumping through a lot of hoops to make sure the events stayed hidden.

Granted, that's what you always did when covering up the supernatural, every magus knew that, but this was some serious Memory Manipulation at work.

He had surmised that Issei was reincarnated after his assassination, but he had also figured that Issei would be stuck somewhere in the Underworld while his new master broke him like a wild animal. For him to actually be here must also mean that the master was at least somewhere nearby.

Just one more something to be wary of.

It was clear to him now that at least two Devils of some authority and their respective collections had taken residence in Kuoh. Reya giving him the flyer on Friday was his first clue, the second flyer being another, and Issei's presence confirmed the suspicion.

As far as he knew, though, nobody suspected him of anything dubious. He might just be able to carry on with his (somewhat) normal life abroad if he just kept his head down.

That could change if he got careless again.

Due to his quickened pace and zigzagging through town, the journey to his temporary abode took only about twenty minutes instead of thirty. Taking the northernmost exit from the market district and going another half-kilometer, he came across the welcome sight of his apartment building.

It was nothing special: a two-story apaato holding four apartments on each level, but it was home. The private owner of the building, a kind old man by the name of Watanabe, lived right next door in a smaller, more traditional house of his own.

The apaato wasn't the prettiest thing, but the apartment itself was adequate, for lack of a better term. It had the bare essentials: a small bathroom, a kitchen and dining area, and a living room just big enough to seat a few guests comfortably with a small TV on a stand in the corner nearest to the balcony.

Connected to the living room was the sparsely decorated main bedroom, with a twin-size bed in one corner and a large dresser against the wall opposite to it. All in all, a simple Japanese apartment with some western elements thrown here and there.

This wasn't to say that his current residence was bad; the price was modest and the neighbors were nice, but he certainly wouldn't mind an upgrade to something bigger if the chance ever arose.

Not that he would get a chance anytime soon, what with all that happened to him recently.

With a practiced motion, he opened the small drop box addressed to his apartment number, swiped the contents, and let the lid snap shut. Disinterestedly, he rifled through the mail, only to discover something that made him freeze.

Among the utility bills was a single unmarked envelope: no address, no return address, and no postage stamp to boot. He glanced around just to make sure he was currently alone.

Everywhere he turned; there was no one in sight, just empty street. That should have been reassuring, but it only made him more uneasy.

He hurriedly opened the door to his apartment and just as swiftly locked it behind him, practically throwing off his shoes at the genkan. He then tossed the bills haphazardly onto the kitchen's countertop before sitting down at the dining table.

He scrutinized the unmarked letter for several seconds, contemplating whether he should read it or just throw it out. Whoever the sender was, they had hand delivered it to his mailbox, so they knew where he stayed.

If he chose to ignore it, there would likely be another message, or possibly something more nefarious, in his mailbox in the following days.

Taking a calming breath, he cautiously felt and squeezed the letter from corner to corner, checking for anything other than paper. Finding nothing, he opened the letter and unfurled a plain white sheet from within.

The message was brief, but neatly handwritten.

Meet me at the benches near the park fountain at 2100 hours tonight. Come alone.

If he wasn't on edge before, he certainly was right there. His common sense told him this was nothing more than a trap to silence him, and now he had a fairly good idea who the sender was.

He spent the next several minutes just sitting at the table and thinking. If his suspicion on the sender was correct, simply ignoring the demand was a waste of an opportunity for answers, and attempting to hide was absolutely pointless.

They would likely be watching for his arrival at the park, and would know if he brought any kind of backup. Sometimes he hated thinking like a magus.

The ever-present abject suspicion of deceit and foul play was more than a little tiring. Nothing could ever be simple.