The echo of the shout still lingered in the air when everything fell silent. No footsteps, no murmurs—only the steady hum of the air conditioning filling the aisles, as if the entire supermarket were holding its breath.
Rian glanced around without moving. The supposed fighters stood solemnly, as if awaiting divine blessing before launching themselves toward boxes of refrigerated meals.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
And here I was thinking something supernatural was going on… he thought tiredly. I really need to stop overthinking things.
For a brief moment, he considered simply turning around and leaving. But the tense silence hanging in the air, and the stares aimed at him from several points along the aisle, made it clear that option was already gone.
"…What nonsense," he muttered.
He had no intention of talking further with these people, but a few glared at him in irritation. One of them, a big man with a swollen face and a disheveled uniform, took a step forward.
"What did you say?"
Rian tilted his head calmly.
"I said if you're going to fight, at least do it for something that matters. This… is just sad."
A murmur rippled through the group, and someone from the back spat disdainfully.
"Look who's talking. The rich kid. Bet you've never gone hungry in your life."
Rian looked at him quietly.
"Oh…" was all he said, more curious than angry.
The other man gained confidence.
"Yeah, you heard me. You probably come from money. Everything easy, everything handed to you. You don't know what it means to earn something with effort."
Rian stayed silent. It wasn't worth answering.
Shirone, on the other hand, clenched her fist tightly, not even trying to hide her irritation.
Then another voice joined in, laced with a dirty laugh.
"He probably pays those sluts to hang around him. No way a guy like that gets girls unless he's paying for them."
Rian's smile froze. The change was almost imperceptible, but the air around him grew heavier. Shirone lifted her head, her expression tightening in anger, but Rian raised a hand to stop her.
"I see," he said in a dangerously calm tone. "So that's the kind of people you are."
The group stared at him in confusion.
"Fighting over food, attacking strangers, insulting people who had nothing to do with it… and you still dare to talk about 'honor.'"
No one dared interrupt him. The boy in the coat—the one who had earlier spoken so solemnly—watched in silence. Internally, he agreed with Rian. He hadn't liked that innocent bystanders had been dragged into what was supposed to be a game, nor that his comrades had lost control. He only wanted the rules respected. But things had gotten out of hand.
Rian continued, voice low, tone perfect.
"You're not wolves. You're idiots looking for excuses to feel important. Losers convincing themselves that fighting over scraps is some kind of pride."
The burly man clenched his fists, teeth grinding in anger.
"What the hell do you know?"
"They were right about one thing," Rian interrupted, raising his voice just enough for all to hear. "I am rich."
A few sharp breaths echoed among the group. Rian looked at the shelf's red discount stickers, ran a finger over one, and continued with the same composure.
"Rich enough to buy the entire shelf."
The silence shattered instantly. An insult, a roar—and the first man charged at him. The others followed.
Rian exhaled softly and turned to Shirone.
"Stay back."
Then he stepped forward.
The first to move was the big man. He ran with a war cry that sounded more ridiculous than intimidating. Rian turned his head slightly; the punch whiffed past, and in the same motion, he grabbed the man by the wrist and threw him onto his back. The impact echoed through the shelves.
Two more came from the sides. Rian stepped into them without hesitation. A knee to the stomach, an elbow to the neck—both dropped with little more than a grunt.
The crowd around them hesitated.
Shirone stayed still, tension held in her small frame. Rian didn't need help. He moved slowly among them, sidestepping every strike and answering with precision. Each attempt to hit him ended the same way: a body hitting the ground, a groan, and a spreading silence.
In less than a minute, the aisle had turned into a collection of fallen bodies. Among the groans and the sound of crushed plastic, the boy in the coat observed quietly. He could admit it: most of his comrades were embarrassing. He didn't like what they'd done or how they'd dragged outsiders into a fight that was supposed to have rules. But now it was too late. The reputation of the wolves, absurd as it might be, was on the line—and he couldn't stand by while someone shattered the little pride they still had.
To his left, the brown-haired girl stepped forward. Her serious face, steady stance, and determined eyes gave her away—she intended to intervene.
"If I can find an opening…" she began.
The boy in the coat cut her off, stepping forward and raising his hand.
"I'll handle this."
She stared at him in surprise.
"Wizard, you…"
Before she could finish, he was already walking toward Rian. The girl bit her lip and stepped back, though her eyes stayed fixed on him. In a low voice, almost to herself, she murmured with respect,
"The Wizard." They say he's the strongest fighter in the western district… his moves look like tricks, but every strike hits for real. With his help… maybe we can recover our lost pride.
The boy moved forward with measured confidence. His coat swayed with each step, every motion deliberate, almost theatrical.
"I'll show you the strength of the wolves," he declared solemnly, gathering momentum.
He leapt. The sound of his foot pushing off one of his fallen comrades echoed like the beat of a war drum. He spun midair with flawless precision, eyes locked on his target. For an instant, everything slowed. The girl held her breath, and in her mind, the movement became almost beautiful—the culmination of his technique, the flight of the wolf, the justice of half-price glory, the triumph of night-time battle.
And then Rian raised his leg.
There was no drama. No warning. Just a sharp impact that sliced through the air and silenced the moment.
The boy's body froze midair, as if time itself refused him, and then collapsed to the floor unconscious before even hitting the ground.
Silence returned. Rian lowered his leg and straightened his uniform with a calm gesture. No one else moved. For several seconds, everyone just stared at The Wizard's motionless body sprawled on the polished floor.
The silver-haired girl standing beside Shirone blinked in disbelief.
"Eh… that's it?" she whispered, more confused than impressed. She had expected more from the boy in the coat, something worthy of the title his companions had chanted so solemnly.
But that was it. A single strike.
The others pressed their lips together. They wanted to say something—to defend what little pride remained—but neither their voices nor their legs obeyed. Only the hum of the air conditioning filled the silence.
Rian watched them for a moment. Then, several bodies dropped almost simultaneously, breaking the stillness with dull thuds.
The brown-haired girl remained frozen on the other side of the aisle. The "wolves" lay scattered across the floor, and she was the only one still standing. Since she hadn't fought, she wavered between running away or standing her ground. Her instincts screamed at her to flee, but her legs wouldn't move. The difference between them was painfully clear.
While she hesitated, Rian was already standing in front of her. She hadn't heard his footsteps—when she looked up, he was simply there, so close that she forgot to breathe for a moment.
Her body tensed, ready for the blow she thought was coming. Yet she froze when she saw Rian's face. The features of the "monster" who had just wiped out her comrades had softened.
"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Rian asked, his voice unexpectedly gentle.
The question caught her off guard.
"N-no…" she murmured, forcing her voice not to shake.
Rian nodded slowly, his gaze steady.
"I'm glad. It would be a shame to hurt someone like you."
The girl blinked, confused by the sudden warmth in his tone.
"Someone like me?"
"Hitting a girl that pretty would be a crime."
The comment took her by surprise. For a moment, her composure faltered, and a faint blush colored her cheeks.
"Don't say that," she protested, turning her face away. "I…"
Rian smiled—not wide or mocking, but with that calm, measured expression that managed to unsettle and captivate at the same time. He took another step forward and gently lifted her chin with two fingers, making her look up.
Their eyes met. Rian's, deep and serene, radiated a quiet authority that dissolved any defense. Hers, seeking confidence, yielded within seconds, unable to hold his gaze.
"There's no need to fake modesty," he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. "I'm pretty sure more than one person here had already noticed."
Her pulse quickened. She wanted to move away, but couldn't. She wanted to say something, but her voice was gone. His face was so close she could feel the warmth of his breath, and her thoughts had no space for anything else.
She parted her lips to speak, but no words came out. Her eyes couldn't leave his. Then Rian slowly withdrew his hand and stepped back. In his other hand was a bento, which he calmly offered to her.
"You should find better company," he said, guiding her hand toward the box. "A girl like you is far above this crowd. Don't let them drag you down."
She took it almost unconsciously, her fingers trembling as they brushed against his. By the time she looked up again, he was already walking away.
The aisle remained silent. Her heart pounded, a confused rhythm between embarrassment and something she refused to name.
Rian reached the end of the aisle, where Shirone and the silver-haired girl were waiting. Next to Shirone stood a cart already filled with bentos—apparently gathered sometime during the chaos.
"All done?" Shirone asked flatly.
"Yes," Rian replied calmly, giving her a brief glance before heading toward the exit. "Let's go."
Shirone pushed the cart behind him without another word. The sound of the wheels was the only thing breaking the silence as they approached the register. They paid for the bentos and the ingredients they had originally come for, then stepped out with full bags in hand.
The cool night air greeted them as they left the store. The neon lights reflected off the clean pavement, and the quiet street amplified the sound of their steps. Rian walked a few meters before noticing Shirone's eyes fixed on him.
"You're mean, senpai," she said suddenly.
Rian turned his head slightly, expression neutral.
"Why do you say that?"
"You know why," she replied, pressing her lips together.
Rian smiled faintly without breaking stride.
"She was the only woman among them. And if there's one thing I've learned as a man, it's that there's always more than one idiot in love with the only attractive woman who tolerates them." His tone was calm, almost lazy. "After they insulted you, I couldn't just leave them with a few punches."
Shirone sighed, a mix of relief and mild annoyance.
"So that's what it was…" she murmured, her frown easing slightly.
Rian glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
"Jealous?"
"I'm not," she said quickly, looking away.
Rian gave a soft laugh.
"Good." He lifted a hand and gently patted her head. "Because right now, my eyes are only on you."
The gesture caught her off guard. She lowered her head, a faint blush blooming on her cheeks. Rian kept walking as if nothing had happened, and she followed after him, a small, hidden smile tugging at her lips.
The subject of the other girl was left behind, forgotten.
They walked for a while before Rian added,
"By the way, we're not coming back to that place."
"Alright," Shirone replied softly, not looking at him, gripping the shopping bags firmly as a calm silence settled between them.
***
The house was quiet when they returned. Shirone nudged the door open with her shoulder while balancing several bags, and Rian stepped in behind her carrying just as many. Between ingredients, bread, vegetables, and the bentos they'd bought, it looked more like a relocation than a grocery trip.
Kiba appeared from the hallway, his usual gentle smile in place.
"Welco—" The word caught in his throat as he took in the sight. "What… is all this?"
Rian looked down at the mountain of bags in his hands.
"We may have gotten carried away," he admitted with a light chuckle.
Kiba nodded, refraining from comment, and stepped forward to help.
"Let me give you a hand."
"Thanks." Rian handed him a few bags, which Kiba took effortlessly.
Together they walked toward the main room. The moment they crossed the threshold, a rain of confetti fell from above and the lights flicked on all at once.
"Happy birthday, Rian-sama!"
Rian stopped, blinking once before glancing around.
"Wait—today's my birthday?"
Loup, standing near the sofa, was the first to answer.
"Not exactly. It's tomorrow. We figured you'd forgotten."
Akeno, who was by the table, added cheerfully,
"Tomorrow you'll be busy with the official celebration and probably won't have time to enjoy it. So we thought we'd celebrate early—just us."
Now that they mentioned it, he remembered. Before leaving for the human world, his family had reminded him that he was expected to return for the formal celebration—a grand reception where many of their allies would attend.
Rian looked around in silence for a few seconds. Then he let out a brief sigh.
"I see."
Loup approached, raising his glass in a composed gesture.
"Then—happy birthday in advance."
Rian nodded, a small smile curving his lips, while Shirone settled quietly at his side, watching the scene.
Loup set his glass down as Kiba finished putting the last of the groceries away in the kitchen. Akeno lit the candles on the cake, and the warm light filled the room with a peaceful glow.
Rian watched quietly, arms crossed, expression serene. There was something curious about the calm in that moment—after the chaos of the day, the contrast felt almost unreal.
"You've been acting differently lately," Akeno said, breaking the silence as she poured herself a glass of wine. "Bolder, maybe."
Rian raised an eyebrow.
"I suppose so."
Loup studied him carefully, his tone calm and devoid of mockery.
"I have to admit, I didn't expect that from you."
"Why?" Rian asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Because you usually keep a certain distance from everyone," Loup replied evenly.
Rian nodded, not denying it.
"That was before."
Kiba looked at him with curiosity.
"So it's true then? You're actually considering a harem?"
Rian met his gaze, composed.
"Completely. I've been holding back for too long, after all."
"And your promise?" Kiba pressed.
Rian leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. His voice remained firm, yet relaxed.
"Soon, I won't have to hold back anymore. I just want to set the groundwork first. I'm not rushing anything—but I'm not staying still either."
Loup nodded slowly.
"Does this have something to do with last night?"
Rian met his eyes.
"Yes. I spoke with my father. I asked him to send the proposal for my engagement."
Akeno and Shirone, who had been in the back preparing drinks, both looked up at the same time. It lasted only a second, but the surprise was unmistakable. Unlike Shirone, who hadn't known anything about it, Akeno was caught off guard by how quickly things were moving.
Only one question remained.
"With whom?" Kiba asked.
Rian smiled, that natural mix of confidence and charm lighting his expression.
"Ravel Phenex."
The room fell silent for a moment. Even Loup, who rarely showed emotion, leaned forward slightly.
"Ravel…" he repeated. "Didn't expect that."
Kiba nodded in agreement.
"Neither did I. We thought you'd choose one of your childhood friends."
Rian leaned back in his seat.
"I had my reasons. But it's not a decision I'll regret."
No one asked for those reasons. Instead, a comfortable silence settled as everyone processed the news. The glances exchanged between Akeno and Shirone were the most telling—the spark in their eyes dimmed noticeably. If the marriage went through soon, then that meant… the promise would finally end.
"When will it happen?" Loup asked after a pause.
"In about a year, probably," Rian answered.
Akeno and Shirone exchanged another brief glance. Neither spoke, but the faint sadness in their eyes was unmistakable.
Kiba picked the conversation back up, his tone neutral.
"You talk as if it's already decided."
Rian looked at him, utterly confident.
"It is. Do you really think anyone would reject me?"
Loup smiled faintly.
"No, I don't think so."
The tension dissolved again. Glasses clinked, and the conversation flowed naturally.
The warm light from the candles danced across the room as laughter returned, soft and genuine. The chaos of the day felt far away now—replaced by the simple comfort of belonging.