Beast Gacha System: All Mine-Chapter 166: Something

The first time Cecilia had been pushed into a wall by this man, it had also been in this kind of alleyway. She’d managed to use gold coins to rage bait the magnificent Dragon Lord.

And now...

"Are you investigating me?"

A low thrum of his voice vibrated in the narrow space between the cool stone wall at her back and the heat of his body in front of her.

Oathran had leaned in, his face lowering to hers, the usual polite distance incinerated. A subtle scowl was blooming between his eyebrows, tightening the fine lines at the corners of his eyes and hardening the curve of his lips.

Come to think of it, this man never scowled at her.

Ever.

The real Oathran had given her looks of weariness, of ancient sorrow, of gentle, devastating affection. He had glared at her once, in white-hot anger when she’d confessed she wasn’t a real saintess.

But a scowl? This petty, human, frustrated expression? It was... never.

The sharp, elegant planes of his face seemed to sharpen further under its influence, but it wasn’t a scowl of hatred, no matter how she searched it. This was the scowl of a cornered beast.

Confused and lashing out at a threat it couldn’t fully see.

"Am I... investigating you?" Cecilia asked, her voice calm.

Her eyes didn’t—couldn’t dart away in guilt or fear. They burned across the plane of his face, memorizing this rare, vulnerable expression, the faint flush high on his cheekbones, the tension in his jaw, the way his white hair seemed almost electric against the dark green foliage behind him.

She committed it to the archive of her mind, a precious memory.

"Why would I?"

That was the problem. Why would she? Oathran didn’t know. They had no history, no conflict, no obvious motive. They were desk mates. Polite acquaintances. And yet, she had...

"That imperial princess has been digging into my personal information, including Headmaster Lazuardi’s connection with me," he stated, his voice flat.

The motive was a mystery, but the fact was not. Angela’s network, while subtle, was not invisible to someone as observant as him. "And how you suddenly apply for initiation under Professor Baswara against all odds?"

His hands were braced against the wall on either side of her head, not touching her, but caging her in. In this secluded alley behind the school buildings, dappled with shadow and leaf-light, he had her pinned.

If someone caught them in this compromising position, it would be Exhibit B in the school’s scandal ledger.

But Cecilia’s focus wasn’t on her reputation. To hell with teenage gossip. She needed to know. She needed to push him, to see what lay beneath the polished transfer-student veneer.

"I’m best friends with Angela. And the imperial princess has a habit of wanting to know everything. It’s part of her asset management," Cecilia explained, her smile returning, gentle and reasonable.

"And why do you think it’s you I’m investigating?" She tilted her head. "How do you know it’s not Professor Baswara, the mentor I’ve been eyeing?"

It was a valid deflection. Her knowledge of the obscure Baswara was suspicious, given his erased public profile and her flimsy ’hallway portraits’ excuse.

But Oathran’s instincts screamed that it was more.

"Do you..." she asked softly, her voice dropping to a whisper meant only for him, "...have something to hide?"

Oathran could feel it in his bones.

Something.

Something about this woma—

"Oho! Sorry, sorry, boy. Ahem, sorry, Cecilia."

The interruption was a clap of thunder in the tense quiet. Professor Baswara’s wandering crystal orb zipped around the corner, its polished surface reflecting the dappled light, before it jerked to a halt as if realizing the scene it had blundered into. A faint, embarrassed cough seemed to emanate from it.

Oathran’s composure, already frayed, snapped.

"I TOLD YOU TO STAY IN THE CLASSROOM AND WE’LL RETURN—" he roared, the sound raw and entirely un-Oathran-like, his head whipping toward the orb.

"I GOT IT, BOY, AH, SORRY! THIS OLD MAN IS SORRY, YOU BASTARD—" Baswara’s tinny, flustered voice shot back through the crystal.

"LEAVE!"

"Yes, yes. Hohoho, I’m leaving, hohoho~"

But just as the orb began to pivot away, Baswara’s voice, now adopting a tone of grave, mischievous responsibility, added, "I’m here because I noticed a girl following the two of you. Just a little heads up. Ahem, if you want to do something naughty, find a better pla—"

"OLD MAN!" Oathran’s cry was pure murder. He lunged, not at Cecilia, but at the crystal, his hand closing around it with a grip that looked capable of reducing it to powder.

"I’M LEAVING, AH!" The orb’ voice squeaked, and the crystal went dim, presumably as Baswara hastily cut the feed from his end.

The sudden silence was louder than the shouting. Cecilia blinked, then a slow smile spread across her lips. She couldn’t help it.

The great Oathran Alicei, flustered into blustering rage by his own meddling guardian. And there, beneath the fading fury on his face, was an unmistakable, high-color blush staining his pale cheeks.

She had never seen him blush. Not like this. Not so obviously, so humanly.

A girl following them... She knew instantly who it must be.

"Are you sure you’re not afraid to be called a homewrecker," Cecilia asked, her voice light and almost teasing, "stealing a girl rumored to have a boyfriend already?"

But Oathran, it seemed, truly couldn’t care less about the social ramifications. His actions in the hallway, his indifference to the gossip now...

As if he knew engaging with it was pointless? As if the storm of teenage opinion meant nothing?

"There’ll be just rumors. It’ll be temporary. And you said it yourself, that your boyfriend is not that petty," Oathran replied.

From the now-darkened crystal, a scandalized whisper burst forth, as if Baswara couldn’t help himself, "OH MY GOD, CHILD, HOW COULD YOU AIM FOR A GIRL WHO ALREADY HAVE A FIANC—"

"PROFESSOR, PLEASE ACTUALLY LEAVE," Oathran growled, his grip on the orb tightening dangerously.

"Don’t worry, Professor," Cecilia interjected smoothly, her tone reassuring. "I’m not interested in romantic pursuit." For now, at least. She kept that qualifying thought safely locked away.

But she didn’t see what the crystal, with its frozen, recording eye, captured in that moment. She didn’t see the way Oathran’s expression, just beginning to relax, stiffened again at her words.

A fleeting, almost imperceptible flicker, a wince, a minuscule closing off, passed over his features before he could school them back to neutrality.

Thousands of miles away, in his quiet, cluttered study, Baswara watched the frozen image on his scrying panel. He saw the boy’s face. He saw the tiny, telltale crack in the mask.

The old professor’s bushy eyebrows flinched. A deep, familiar sorrow spread through his old chest, a cold ache.

Ah.

That was it.

So the boy actually liked her. Not just intrigue or intellectual fascination. The solemn, doomed child he’d taken in had gone and done the most tragically normal thing imaginable.

He’d developed a crush.

Poor boy.

Poor... poor boy.

***

The perfect vantage point had proven frustratingly elusive. Ruby had followed them at a discreet distance, her steps silent on the flagstones, her prized recording crystal, a smaller, more discreet model than Baswara’s, cupped eagerly in her palm.

She’d seen them break away from the courtyard, passing by the classroom to drop off something... then here.

But the chosen location was... difficult. The alleyway behind the old alchemy wing was too straight, too open. There were no convenient pillars, no deep doorways, no overgrown topiaries to crouch behind.

If she ventured close enough to get a clear, incriminating shot of whatever confrontation or intimate moment was about to unfold, they would spot her instantly. The risk of exposure was too high.

She’d settled for lurking at another alley’s mouth, pressed against the rough, cool stone of the building corner.

It wasn’t ideal. She’d only get footage of them entering and, more importantly, exiting. Their expressions disheveled, perhaps, their clothes rumpled, the space between them charged. It would be circumstantial, but paired with the existing gossip and her narration, it could be enough.

The ’walk of shame’ shot, as it were. She could work with that. She lifted her crystal, focusing its light-capturing runes on the empty alley entrance, waiting for the moment they re-emerged.

Her entire being was focused forward. Which was why the voice from directly behind her scared the soul out of her.

"What is this little bitch doing here, huuh?"

A low, venomous purr.

Ruby gasped, a sharp, involuntary intake of breath that felt like swallowing ice. She whirled around, her heart hammering against her ribs, the crystal almost slipping from her suddenly numb fingers.

There, leaning against the opposite wall, was Princess Angela.

She wasn’t in her uniform jacket, but it was slung over one shoulder, her white blouse sleeves rolled up, exposing forearms that looked deceptively slender but were known to be capable of snapping practice wands in two. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

Her black hair was a wilder frame around her face than usual, and her eyes, usually gleaming with sharp intelligence or fury, were flat. Cold.

She wasn’t supposed to be here. She’d been at the courtyard table just moments ago. She must have circled around.

Ruby’s mind, usually so adept at crafting narratives and playing the victim, went blank with pure, primal fear.

This was no longer the scripted drama of a love triangle. This was the heir to the Iondora Empire finding you skulking in a shadowy alley, armed with a recording crystal, while her best friend was secluded with a boy.

This was politics.

Angela didn’t move from her slouch. She just tilted her head, her gaze dropping to the crystal in Ruby’s trembling hand. A slow, terrifying smile touched her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

"Let me guess," Angela murmured, her voice still that soft, deadly purr. "Collecting... evidence?"