Xingyue, is Xiaokai also considered Kai?

In fact, Eri already had the answer, but she found it hard to believe, or perhaps she couldn't accept it.

After all, when she was in Tokyo, Eri had a vague feeling that the tone of voice of 'Peumendris,' which guided her, and the concern that was unintentionally revealed, were so similar to the 'Demon King.'

But yesterday.

Just yesterday, deep inside, the "Peumendris" that was screaming and roaring madly manifested itself as a completely different being.

All I can say is...

Eri slowly raised her gaze to look at Novia.

No more words are needed, nor any further explanation.

Eri slowly lowered her eyes, exhaling a long, long breath as if she were exhaling all the confusion and pain that had been building up for nearly seven years.

"I understand."

She spoke softly, her voice not loud, but exceptionally clear and steady.

This sentence,

She was speaking to Chitose, who was looking at her with concern, and also to Novia, and even more so to herself and to the girl named "Utsumi Erise".

"Please...give me some time." Erise looked up, her face now calm. "Please, let me be alone, calm down, and sort out...all my emotions."

Chitose gave her a deep look, and finally just nodded slightly to show his understanding, then gave Novia a knowing look.

And so, the two of them quietly left the room.

Only Eri was left in the room, along with the quiet sunlight streaming through the window and onto the large carpet.

Utsumi Erise sat on the bed for a long, long time, in a daze.

Over time, the position of the sunlight gradually shifted from the east side of the carpet to the west side.

This time did allow Erise to calm down and process her emotions, giving her a chance to reconsider her decision.

The first resolution is—

Go meet Luce.

.......

The next morning, the sun shone brightly, casting a perfect warmth over the entire Akihabara.

Following the address she had received from Luce, Eri walked through several familiar yet unfamiliar streets and finally found a small breakfast shop with a very cozy and cute decoration on an inconspicuous street corner.

On the handwritten wooden sign at the store entrance, there is a smiling cross ice cream cone drawn in cute font.

Under that sign, a petite girl with blue hair skillfully packed steaming buns, dumplings, and fresh soy milk for the customers queuing up.

Luce.

The moment Luce saw Eri, her already vibrant face blossomed into an even brighter, sunny smile.

"Erise-neechan! Good morning!"

"Ah."

Eri didn't join the queue; she simply stood quietly to the side, waiting for Luce to finish.

Luce was quick; a few minutes later, she handed the last breakfast, along with a big smile, to the guest in front of her.

She took off her apron, hung it on the hook by the door, and then, without saying a word, pulled Erise's hand and walked into the small but spotless shop.

"Erise-neechan, what brings you here? Did you come to play with me? Or... are you hungry?"

Luce asked with a grin, skipping around to the back of the counter. He took out two chilled, cutely packaged glass bottles of milk from a small household refrigerator and handed one of them to Erise.

Erise held the cool bottle, looked at Luce's pure, innocent smile, and at his clear, sky-blue eyes, and couldn't help but chuckle.

So she chose the most direct approach.

"I'm your older sister, Luce."

This sentence is less of a question and more of an unquestionable statement.

Luce blinked his long eyelashes, seemingly unsurprised by Eri's conclusion.

"You already knew, Erise-neechan."

The blue-haired girl still had that same smiling look on her face, as if this wasn't some earth-shattering secret, but just a trivial matter of "you finally found out." She opened a bottle of milk, took a big gulp, and then let out a satisfied burp.

“That’s right,” Luce said casually, wiping the milk stains from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “You are Poimandris. You are ‘Soul’!”

Having received an affirmative answer, Eri nodded, finally feeling a weight lifted from her shoulders.

So, following Luce's example, I unscrewed the cap and took a big gulp of the ice-cold milk.

“But…” Eri frowned, her face showing distress. “I don’t know why, but ‘Peimanderis’s’ emotions… seem to be very, very easily agitated. You could even say… easily out of control. This is something that… no, it’s very troubling to me.”

Eri was still a little embarrassed and didn't directly voice her crazy thoughts from the night before last—wanting to destroy everything and possess Novia.

After all, her initial purpose in approaching Luce was to protect her from being hurt by that "scumbag" Novia.

Now, I've become the most dangerous and unstable factor.

Although Eri didn't say it explicitly, Luce was no ordinary girl who couldn't read the room. Her brain, "strictly taught by Yahweh," could probably guess the truth of the matter quite well from the awkward expression on Eri's face.

Most likely, it's related to his father, Novia.

Luce tilted her head, thinking back to the many things she had learned during the initial days when she was created by Yahweh as Novia's "left hand" and strictly disciplined by him. Among them, the ancient knowledge from the Hermetic Texts clearly surfaced in her mind, especially the most core prayers:

'Promise my request, give me strength; with this gift I will enlighten the ignorant, my people, I am your son.'

This is what I believe and have witnessed; I have ascended into life and light, Father, you are blessed.

Who (I) am your son? Who (I) desire to be united with you in the work of sanctification, for you have given me full authority?

thus,

The Lord's Mind, Purmanderes, so longed to connect with the "Father" as the source and to receive "all power" from the "Father".

This desire, stemming from the most fundamental source, when catalyzed by intense emotions, will evolve into a possessiveness and love that is so strong, so pure, and so unquestionable. Luce could easily guess this with just her little head.

As the older sister of "Pewmanderis", it's not hard to understand what kind of earth-shattering things she would do to her father, Novia, who is always surrounded by countless powerful and beautiful women like the core of gravity.

but,

It can't be entirely blamed on the father.

Luce thought about it again. Based on her careful observation over this period of time, it seems that most of the women who have such a deep connection with their fathers are the type whose emotional intensity and way of expression are far different from ordinary people.

Eri-neechan, in essence, is perhaps... just one of them.

However, Eri is her older sister.

It is Purimanderis, it is "the mind".

Therefore, as the younger sister, I have the responsibility and obligation to let my older sister's overly excited and pure "heart" know what a "normal" way of getting along with our father is.

Thinking of this, a sly yet absolutely confident glint flashed in Luce's blue eyes.

She reached out and, with a commanding presence completely out of character for her petite frame, forcefully patted Erise's shoulder with a loud "smack." She then puffed out her not-so-ample chest and, in an incredibly confident tone, loudly proclaimed:

"It's okay, Erise-neechan! I'll take care of it!"

"Tomorrow! Just tomorrow! I'll show you what the most correct, healthy, and happiest way for me and my father to get along really is!"

580: Sister, let's get Novia to kiss us together (8k)

A small breakfast shop.

Wearing a yellow raincoat, Luce was busy at work, attentively watching each customer who came to buy something.

Meanwhile, Erise hid herself in the shadows across the street, leaning against the cold wall, her face mostly covered by a mask, her gaze complex as she watched, like a lion patrolling its territory.

Is this what Luce meant by "normal" interaction?

Eri's gaze passed over Luce's figure and landed on the man standing behind the steamer.

Novia, who is regarded as the Demon King, is his own... father.

Luce would occasionally turn around and say something, and without her having to raise her voice, Novia would instinctively stop what she was doing, either handing her a fresh basket of buns or adding hot water to the thermos. There was an invisible understanding between them, as natural as breathing, shutting out the noisy world around them.

Last night, when Luce extended the invitation for a "one-day trip," Novia accepted without hesitation and came to the shop that evening.

Aside from agreeing to Luce's request, Novia could guess that the reason she did this was probably because of Eri.

So it doesn't matter.

Eri's fingernails dug deeply into her palm.

Are you jealous of Luce?

Somewhat, but Eri knew even better that this jealousy was completely unreasonable; it was simply that her true nature, 'Puremanderis,' had kicked in again.

Just as Eri was immersed in her complicated thoughts, an old man appeared, walking with difficulty, leaning on an exquisitely carved cane, and dressed in a luxurious outfit.

Eri frowned.

The most troublesome guy has arrived.

Eri knew Pope Alexander VI, not only because she and Novia had done his request when they were young for the Holy Grail War, but also because this guy always made things difficult for Luce.

As expected, the gaunt-faced Alexander VI slowly walked to the stall. He did not speak immediately, but carefully examined Baozi and Luce with his deep-set but unusually sharp eyes.

“Luce,” Alexander VI finally spoke, his voice hoarse, “was the soy milk kept warm for too long today? I could smell the burnt smell of overheated beans even before I got close. This will affect the richness of the flavor, you must remember that.”

Luce remained as serious as ever. She nodded and even took out her notebook and pen to write it down:

"Yes, Grandpa Borgia, I will be careful."

Alexander VI was very pleased with Luce's attitude. After accepting the breakfast Luce offered, he took a small bite as usual.

Next second,

The chewing motion froze.

Those brows, which were always habitually furrowed, tightened once again.

But this time, it wasn't because of dissatisfaction, but because of confusion.

There's nothing wrong with it, but it's not so delicious as to be irresistible, since it's just a steamed bun. But there's something indescribable about it, and overall, it makes me feel very happy.

How is this done?

Alexander VI was in turmoil.

How can making steamed buns be done to this extent? This is practically a magic potion! Is it some kind of culinary treasure or skill?

However, Alexander VI quickly found a perfect explanation for his lapse in composure.

So that's how it is. It seems that my daily hard work in picking and choosing has been useful. Without my strict guidance, how could he have improved to this extent?

Thinking of this, Alexander VI's pleasure from the food was immediately replaced by a sense of pride as a "mentor." The old man cleared his throat and decided to continue his daily work.

After all, gaining his approval isn't so easy.

"That being said, but the pleats on this bun..."

“Um,” Luce suddenly interrupted him, “Grandpa Borgia, I didn’t make breakfast today.”

Alexander VI's prepared speech suddenly caught in his throat, leaving him stunned:

"If it wasn't you? Then who was it?"

"It was my father who did it."

"Father?"

Alexander VI's face instantly darkened, and he slammed his cane heavily on the ground.

"What have I always told you? You need to understand what independence is! Running a business is your own career, how can you always trouble your family? Young people, you can't always rely on your parents! You need to understand responsibility! Moreover, if you have disagreements with your family, it will not only affect your business but also your family relationships, which is a big taboo. Sometimes, you can use hired help to do these things! It's not good to cause conflicts!"

Instead of getting impatient with the old man's endless lecture, Luce listened more attentively than ever before, his pen flying across the small notebook in his hand.

This greatly satisfied Alexander VI's desire to preach. After muttering a lot of things, he felt a bit thirsty and coughed twice before stopping.

Then, looking at Luce again, and remembering what she had said about "father," a thought suddenly came to mind.

In fact, he had long felt that Luce's words and actions resembled those of a devout believer, and that the father who could raise such a child must also be a believer of high moral character.

“Ahem,” Alexander VI puffed out his chest and said in a slightly affectionate tone, “Luce, would you like me to meet your father? After all, I am the Pope. It would be reasonable for me to meet a believer who could raise such an excellent child as you.”

As he said this, Alexander VI couldn't help but think of his two troublesome children.