"The kind of man I like is someone strong…"
I wonder how many girls think like that?
If I'm allowed to speak purely from my own perspective, without citing any sources... I'd say: seventy percent. Or maybe eighty. No—perhaps over ninety percent feel the same way. That's how I see it.
Surely, there will be those who disagree.
Some women will definitely say they don't care about strength. That they prefer someone kind, funny, someone who makes them feel at ease... There are certainly many women who value those traits more.
And that's completely valid, no doubt about it.
Kindness, a sense of humor, the feeling of safety — even simple physical attractiveness — are all important factors in falling in love.
But here, let's try changing our line of thinking a little.
Instead of asking what kind of person you like, let's ask: what kind of person do you not like?
There are countless possible answers to that, but before anything else, let me ask one question:
"Hey everyone... is a weak person an option for you?"
If we follow the phrase "life is a battle," could you fall in love with a man whose strength — to live and to fight — is clearly inferior to your own?
The answer is no.
No matter how much time passes,
no matter how much values diversify — this is an unchanging truth about women.
We live in an age where women are strong.
You are a strong woman. Yes, that's true — and hearing that doesn't bother me at all.
But that doesn't mean I want to take over the role of men.
I am a woman. Women are women.
We want a man who is strong, dependable,
someone who can protect us — and our children — with courage.
That's instinct.
It's the role of the female, so...
Just as I am a woman, he should be a man.
Why didn't I take that obvious truth into account?
"I like strong people," I said.
So easily, selfishly, with the heart and soul of a woman,
expressing a woman's logic — from a purely female perspective.
And that's why... women don't understand.
How much men admire strength.
How deeply they crave it with every fiber of their being.
A man's desire for strength borders on obsession.
They seek the title of "strong" with their whole body and soul, to a degree utterly incomprehensible to women.
They feel shame for their weakness — to the point of hating it, of wanting to destroy it completely.
Because that's what defines men.
And so... I deeply regret the careless words I spoke.
Words I can never take back.
Why did I say I liked strong people?
To him of all people — the one who wanted to become strong more than anyone else — how could I say so naturally, "be strong"?
Idiot... what naïveté.
To him, it must have sounded like I was saying: "you're weak."
And the truth is...
I can't lie and say I never thought that, not even for a second.
"I like strong people."
"Get stronger."
"If you're not strong, you're not a man."
Strength. Strength.
That word — it felt like a curse.
No — at that moment, it became a curse.
He will change. He will become strong.
But in return, the wonderful things about him will begin to vanish.
His kindness,
his sense of humor,
those carefree moments on peaceful afternoons,
when we laughed and talked under the sun —
all the warm colors of happiness…
He will sacrifice it all to obtain that one desire.
And in the face of that... how should I have reacted?
Smile with joy? Impossible. I couldn't. My chest was about to burst from guilt and pain, so cry and stop him? I couldn't do that either. Because... I'm the one who set him on that path.
No one else.
I see it as a terrible betrayal.
I told him to become strong...
and now that he's trying, I'm sad about it?
It's contradictory. It makes no sense.
To him, it must feel like I kicked away the ladder while he was climbing — a dirty trick, sudden and unfair, like a trap.
And that's where... the irreparable conflict between us lies.
Now, tormented by a whirlwind of regret,
the girl awakened from the dream.
No — maybe... all of this is just a dream.
◇◇◇
"...a-ah... i-it hurts…" My first reaction was confusion. I didn't understand the situation, wondering why, where I was, and what I had been doing. What followed was pure pain — more physical than emotional.
My entire body screamed in agony, so much so that I couldn't even tell what was wrong at first.
Inside, I felt stabbing pain, cuts, bruises, and burns. Some bones were definitely broken, and the taste of blood rising in my throat told me that my internal organs weren't safe either.
The pain burning my body wasn't just one kind — it was many kinds.
In short, I was completely wounded. I was in so much pain I wanted to scream and roll on the ground right away, but my body wouldn't move as I wished.
Yet it was that torture that served as the catalyst for the girl to realize the truth.
"Ahh... I lost..."
Here was the answer: I was defeated.
I won't say by what, because it was obvious to me. At that moment, I was more concerned about something else than myself.
"Everyone... where are you?"
I had lost. I knew it.
But what about the others?, I asked the void. I couldn't get up, so I couldn't walk. I couldn't even find the strength to call out, and I couldn't turn my head to look around.
All I could do was stare at the sky and let out a voice that sounded like it was about to break.
Normally, it would be impossible to find out anything like that — but unfortunately, that wasn't the case here.
God doesn't grant happiness easily,
but the Devil is generous and eager to hand out his treasures.
Even if you can't see with your eyes, you can hear with your ears. And the smell — it tells you everything. With just those three things — sound and scent — it's easy to know this place is full of destruction.
It's burning. What? There's no need to say it.
Realizing she was the only one left alive,
the girl buried in a mountain of corpses and a river of blood let out a silent scream.
"..." A pitiful sigh that only chewed on her pain, her curls now deeply crimson, soaked in her own blood.
A flaming steel machine of violence.
The battleship that had been their last battlefield was now a giant coffin.
It wasn't just the ship that burned.
The land visible in the distance was also wrapped in crimson flames.
The sea looked like a grinning demon king, its waves roaring with malicious intent, eager to bring more despair.
There was nothing — absolutely nothing — that brought hope here. How must the girl have felt, witnessing this brief stillness as the end of the world approached?
Even though she was one of the fallen kings,
she wasn't strong enough to bear all the blame.
Normally, she would've been just a beautiful young woman who dreamed of romance, loved sweets, and smiled gently while chatting with friends and loved ones. She just wanted to be an ordinary girl you could find anywhere.
It was only by the power of emotion that she had managed to stay standing on the brink of ruin — a battlefield far beyond human comprehension.
She had stayed on her feet because she had friends, loved them, and wanted to protect them. By arming herself with those feelings, she kept alive the light of her will that repelled despair.
But now, that no longer existed,
and the girl could no longer stand.
Without the people she was supposed to protect,
she became weak and powerless —
or at least that's what I firmly believe.
So she would have been content if things had ended like that...
But I don't think that would've been a happy ending...
"■■■■"
The name "his" passes over her lips.
The hero — he couldn't be dead, right? He was strong, a man who would never bow his head. Where was he? Was he dead? That couldn't be.
She admired him —
an ideal to aspire to, someone who shone brighter than anyone, leading them to a warm and welcoming world,
a light guiding them through the darkness.
A brilliant gust of wind.
There was a rear guard cutting through the poisonous rain and black smoke, charging through blazing flames without a care.
It was so heroic and so noble it brought tears to my eyes.
"Stand up, Xenovia! Don't give up! It's not over yet!"
Alone, in the darkness where everyone else had fallen,
he alone stood unshaken.
The light of his will hadn't dimmed in the slightest, and he faced despair head-on.
(What a glorious sight!)
That's how a brave man — a hero — should be.
If you're a man worthy of being the general,
you won't give in to fate, no matter how defeated you are.
"I have feet that carve a path. I have eyes that look ahead. As long as I have hands that can reach victory, I will never accept ruin."
With the strongest man, they still had a chance.
It wasn't over. Yes, that's right — they could win.
Xenovia's heart broke again, realizing how close she had come to understanding that.
And with a deafening—
BOOOOM
The main cannons of the burning battleship groaned and turned. Although they should have been physically disabled by the destruction, they continued to operate despite their damaged state, like a child mishandling a toy.
The aim was locked onto him as he ran. Even if he tried to escape the firing range, the barrel bent like a venomous snake to pursue him.
It was a sight beyond belief, but not something to be surprised by—after all, that ship, no, that entire battlefield had been completely consumed by Handan*. So, no matter how absurd it was, it became reality through the will of its ruler.
A nightmare: Yes, this is a nightmare invading the world. Unless we destroy its source, it will never end.
The battleship's main cannons, now so distorted they appeared almost cartoonish, roared with flames.
The fact that they could still fire without malfunction in such a state meant there was no reasonable way to deal with them. Even if a mountain were used as a shield, the projectile would tear through it like paper.
In other words, avoiding it by practical means was utterly impossible. If you're going to face a dream, you have to become a dream as well.
And then—there he was, revealing his ideals.
The mysterious craft, woven at high speed, was intensely passionate.
Clad in a crimson mantle of steel, he charged like a cannonball toward the attacker.
His iron reason and burning passion—the two attributes that symbolized him—proved he could make his heart blaze at extreme velocity; he possessed the ability to imagine dreams others couldn't comprehend and carry them forward without being crushed by their enormity.
The passion in his mind, which still refused to accept despair, feared nothing—not even a single shot from a battleship's main cannon.
Like a flower blooming out of nowhere, the projectiles were struck head-on and scattered into the night.
Moreover, the main cannon itself exploded, utterly destroying the upper half of the battleship. To think that all of it was caused by a single wave of the hand from someone who could still be called a boy—it was truly a dream come true.
However, that was only from the perspective of an ordinary person. Xenovia knew what kind of attack and defense had just taken place.
He, cloaked in a layer of crimson plates as tough as the battleship itself, had reshaped the space around him, shortened the distance between him and the cannon, and then collided like a meteor.
In response, he used the hardness of his shield technique and the force of his halberd technique to counter it.
Needless to say, for a human of flesh and blood to deflect a cannon shot is impossible—so, to turn that absurdity into reality, he imagined the dream of strengthening his body in both power and durability.
Additionally, using the same technique, Handan and the two executed a double and even triple combination of techniques. The one who demonstrated the more advanced technique was the latter—a hopeful man who shared Xenovia's path. She couldn't believe the current situation was in their favor.
The fact that a higher-level technique was needed to counter a lower-level one meant there was a decisive gap in power between them.
Because———
Standing atop the destroyed main cannon tower, looking down at me, he looked completely unscathed.
Amid the scorching hell where even steel boils, his grand cape flutters in the wind as heatwaves ripple past him, twisting the corners of his mouth into a crescent moon.
"He" is laughing. He's scoffing.
They look down on others and boast of their strength, claiming others are weak.
As if being strong meant you could have everything.
"Ah…"
Strength. What does it mean to be strong? Forgetting the pain in her body that creaked, Xenovia murmured that, and now the curse tormented her mind.
All we know is, unless we stop this now, the world will be thrown into purgatory, and a hopeless future awaits us.
And the brutal reality is that it's impossible to stop.
Xenovia could see the outcome as clearly as children see the alphabet.
If strength is the ability to get what one wants, then no one could beat him in that kind of contest. Of that, she was certain.
She wasn't referring to the strength of his feelings or the intensity of his passion. It was true he was utterly wrong in those aspects, but their general, who remained unyielding, had at least not lost in the battle of willpower.
He—and only he—had reached a level where he could face that monster head-on. In terms of rank, he was by no means inferior.
But, but… it didn't work.
『■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■』
An impersonal, ominous prayer, like a swarm of wasps, made the massive hole in the sky tremble.
Like a rotting fruit that fell to the ground, a seething nightmare threatened to spill forth.
Even though they were of the same rank, the inability to stop this wasn't something that could be dismissed with a single word like "compatibility."
In truth, compatibility is a bilateral relationship, not a one-sided superiority.
Water extinguishes fire, but fire also evaporates water. Tree roots penetrate soil to absorb nutrients, but if the soil dies, the tree rots. That mutual destruction is a universal law. An "existential balance" where neither can persist without the other.
The expression "hard to decide between the two" refers to the fact that they are naturally equal. There is no logic in the idea that one side will always win. Like a three-way standoff, balance always exists.
An Ace is an Ace. Water is water. That's fine.
But... what if they're not equal?
"Are you laughing at me? Do you think my Handan is impure?"
Her general's voice echoed. His will screamed at her not to give up. She, his knight, was always meant to support her general.
But… she was weak. Like someone who had become strong through brute force rather than merit.
"It doesn't fit the mold, is that what you're saying?"
If you're weak, you'll remain weak. If you're tainted, you'll remain tainted.
The meaning of being "natural" had been warped by being surrounded by selfish, small-minded fools who couldn't accept the nature and karma one is born with.
Muddy water has more power than clean, artificial water. Even if it's a marvelous, attractive, and brilliant transformation.
Therefore, the result was clear.
Courage, friendship, love, compassion, sense of identity—these are the lights we call goodness that he possesses. As long as we cling to them, we'll never defeat him.
So…
"Stop this already…"
That viscous liquid is the absolute justice drawn from the depths of Handan. He both loves and hates his true essence—just as it is.
「■■■■■■」
As sparks rained down and her commander's blood fell like crimson rain, she was powerless to stop it.
(Why did I persist? Oh, my beloved general, you are our light.)
He, who fought for them—she was not mistaken. That day, when she chose to become part of his Kenzoku, she knew he would be the Enlightened One who would guide them to new dreams.
Therefore—
"I-I can't l-let him die!"
With teeth clenched in agony, she rose, her arms with bones turned to mush clutching her blade. She would fight, even suppressing all pain.
Because this was—
[Xenovia? Wake up! We have to go! Lady Griselda is calling us.]
"Huh?"
Before she could finish her thoughts, a voice echoed through the world, and her consciousness began to fade—her last sight was the mighty back of her hero facing the Demon King.
And the last thing her ears caught was a ghastly laugh, like countless worms and insects crawling into her ears, burrowing through her flesh into her brain like parasites.
"Xenovia?"
Irina's voice woke Xenovia, who now found herself in bed.
"I…rina? What?"
She felt dizzy, like she had overslept.
"Huh? Are you… crying?"
"Huh?" Irina's words finally made her notice the tears running down her face—she was really crying.
"I... I think so..."
Sniffling softly, she wiped her wet face.
"Did you have a nightmare?" the girl asked as she sat on the chair, looking at her friend with concern. Xenovia simply nodded with a stoic expression.
"No... I... I don't even remember what the dream was..."
Yes, she couldn't remember the dream itself, only that it was something painful... but somehow gave her hope. Strange...
"Anyway, forget about it. Let's go. You said someone was calling us?" she asked, changing the subject.
"Oh! YES! That was for—"
And the conversation continued normally while she got ready for her new mission. Yet, Xenovia couldn't shake off the question: why had she cried in her sleep?
She felt like she had forgotten something important—as if a part of her past had been lost…
²
"See you later, I'm heading out now." Issei said, yawning as he left the house, resigned.
On his way to school, he could be seen squinting his eyes, as if it hurt to keep them open in the bright morning light.
"Aaaaah... Damn it. Did I develop some kind of light sensitivity? I can't seem to handle sunlight lately," he muttered, walking with his hands in his pockets.
(Since I can't wake up early anymore, lately my mom has been the one waking me up every morning. On the other hand, at night I'm way more alert. It's like something inside me awakens and keeps me wired. I've become completely nocturnal.)
It's strange.
Something's not right. He used to stay up late occasionally, but it was rare for him to last until dawn.
But lately, he could easily go until three or four in the morning. Sometimes, he'd fall asleep just as the sun was rising—and it had become his new daily routine...
What the hell is happening to my body?
Come to think of it... ever since that dream, he hadn't been able to dream properly.
It was like something was stopping him from dreaming.
Was he becoming a sleepwalker? …No, he was just overthinking. That couldn't be it. Naturally, the body should want to rest.
"Ahh, damn it, I can't even blame an imaginary girlfriend now."
He remembered it perfectly.
But no one else did.
It was as if Amano Yuuma had never existed.
As if the time he'd spent with her never happened.
Like it had all been some hallucination.
When he woke up, he tried to call her—but there was no sign of Yuuma's number or email in his phone history.
Had it been erased?
Had someone deleted it?
It couldn't be!
He hadn't deleted it… so who could have?
He called the number he remembered—but it wasn't in service.
So… did she not exist?
Was it all his imagination?
That kind of madness couldn't be real—but aside from his memories, there was no evidence she'd ever existed.
Come to think of it, he didn't even know where she lived.
She went to another school, but he never had the chance to find out which.
So who was his girlfriend?
Who was he dating?
Was the dream just a fantasy he made up?
But he remembered her face clearly.
There was something wrong with all of this—especially the strange energy he felt at night.
But what exactly was it?
"DAMN IT!" He shouted, his eyes glaring upward, frustrated by everything happening. All these thoughts were driving him crazy!
"OOF!"
But before he could continue his rant, he felt a thud—something hit him hard and knocked him to the ground.
(Damn it! What the hell? It was like hitting a lamppost!)
As he raised his head to see what hit him, he came face-to-face with golden eyes that pierced through him.
(W-what?)
Looking up, he saw short white hair on a small body.
The Kuoh uniform made it easy to tell where she was from, but even so...
"Pervert..." he heard the white-haired loli mutter as her empty gaze pierced him.
"Gah! W-WHAT?" How could she say that to someone she just met?
"Pervert..." repeated the white-haired girl, as if the word were a final, irrefutable diagnosis.
Issei was still sitting on the ground, staring at her with a mix of confusion, frustration, and… something else.
It was as if a primal instinct in his body screamed at him to run.
But she just stood there.
Still.
Watching him with those expressionless golden eyes.
"H-hey... You bumped into me first! You crashed into me, you know?"
He tried to argue, still dazed, as he stood up and brushed off his uniform.
"How can someone that small hit that hard...?"
She didn't respond.
She just turned her back and started walking toward the school, slowly and silently.
(That was weird. Really weird. I've never talked to her before… and she looked at me like she knew exactly who I was…)
As he walked behind her, keeping a safe distance, he felt a sharp pain stab into his head.
"Nah, it must be my imagination."
Dismissing the discomfort, Issei simply let the day move on.
◇◇◇
The day went by normally for Hyoudou, despite the discomfort in his eyes and the strange feeling of being watched.
He tried to stay on track—at the very least, trying to forget that night that disturbed him… and his seemingly imaginary girlfriend.
At least, until something strange happened—
"Hey, you're Issei-kun, right?"
"Hm?"
Standing before Issei was the "Prince" of Kuoh—Yuuto Kiba, a second-year like him, but from another class.
A bishounen constantly surrounded by screaming girls—truly annoying.
"Me?" He asked, pointing at himself while trying to make sense of the situation.
"Yes," Kiba replied with a soft smile before politely gesturing for him to follow.
"The Buchou would like to speak with you."
"O..kay?"
◇◇◇
³
With that, the two of them walked amid curious students toward the old school building, with Issei tormenting himself trying to figure out what he could have done to attract the attention of the president of the Occult Research Club and Kuoh's Onee-sama.
Trying to stay calm, he decided to ignore it, focusing instead on following the Prince, despite how much the girls around him annoyed him.
(Come on! Even I'd like to have that kind of popularity, and he treats it like just another Tuesday.)
Inside, Issei felt a spark of envy. It was normal—after all, he was a man. He wanted to flaunt something that would attract women to him, even if it clashed with his current nature.
(Damn, sometimes I miss being just a simple pervert. Huh?)
Soon, after some walking, they arrived at their destination. The old academy building seemed quieter than usual. The dusty windows allowed only enough light to cast faint shadows on the walls, and the echoing sound of footsteps as they entered gave Issei the feeling that he was moving away from something…
(This isn't normal… this feeling… it's like something is about to happen. Damn, it's the same sensation I've had all morning.)
Kiba soon stopped in front of a door adorned with symbols that Issei didn't recognize at first—but something inside him reacted. A chill ran down his spine, and his heart began to race.
"This is it," Kiba said with a polite smile, though his golden eyes observed Issei more intensely than usual. "Buchou is waiting for you."
Before Issei could say anything, Kiba had already vanished down the hallway.
With a hesitant sigh, he turned the knob and entered.
The interior was absurdly more beautiful than he expected. Plush red carpets, Victorian furniture, an unlit fireplace—and in the back...
But what really caught Issei's attention was a sound that filled the room.
(A shower?)
Yes, in the room, the sound and steam from a bathroom—especially a hot bath—could be heard and felt.
"Buchou, I brought Issei-kun."
The sound of running water in the background. Steam discreetly escaped from a slightly ajar door in the corner of the room. The space, though refined with a European—mainly Victorian—aesthetic, exuded a strange sense of confinement.
Issei stopped in the middle of the room, uncomfortable. He didn't know if he should wait there, call out to her, or just run away before something bizarre happened—as had been happening frequently.
Then the bathroom door slowly opened, releasing a thick cloud of steam. The silhouette that emerged was unmistakable, even with the towel covering her slender body: Rias Gremory.
"Hyoudou Issei, right?" — Her voice was soft but carried an authority that sent a shiver down his spine.
"Y-yeah... that's me." — He tried not to look directly, but failed. It was impossible not to notice… everything.
Rias walked over to a folding screen where her uniform was already prepared and, to his shock, began dressing right there—behind the screen, but with her shadow cast against the wall.
He could still see glimpses, the red hair. The unattainable one. The one everyone idolized—and who now stood naked and shamelessly dressing just a few feet away.
For a few moments, it felt like her presence consumed the entire opulent room—her fragrance, her aura.
"So, Ise\~ how was your day?"
After finally dressing, Rias sat gracefully in her chair, flanked by Kiba and Akeno. It was strangely like they were knights. That's why it took him a moment to even register her question.
"Ah-huh?... I guess… normal?"
I spoke almost like a question. After all, what could I say? That I had a nightmare where I had a crazy girlfriend who killed me? Nah. That would be imposs—
"—Hmm, and how's your girlfriend?"
"…huh?...w-what?"
The president's casual question made my brain freeze, trying to trace its origin. After all, no one remembered Yuuma, and I was sure it was just a dream, but…
"How do you know that name?"
Suddenly, everything felt tighter. My fists clenched on my pants, something activated my "flee" instincts. The smile on the woman in front of me was terrifying.
"Oh\~ Ise\~ don't worry. After all, we all remember her. I was the one who saved you back then."
The redhead's sentence hung in the air like a cold blade.
"…I was the one who saved you back then."
The world seemed to slow down around Issei. His eyes widened, heart pounding. As if time itself was waiting for his reaction.
"So... so that was real?" His voice came out low, almost swallowed by the muffled room. "She… Yuuma… she really killed me?"
Rias crossed her legs elegantly and rested her face on one hand, watching him with crystalline eyes that seemed to see into his soul. Akeno, behind her, kept a gentle smile on her lips, but there was something threatening in her gaze—like a spider watching prey struggling in its web.
Kiba, for his part, remained silent but alert—like a sheathed blade, ready to be drawn.
"Yes, it was real," Rias confirmed, with the bluntness of someone talking about the weather. "That woman, Raynare… used the name 'Yuuma Amano.' A fallen angel, in disguise. And you were marked as a target from that moment on."
Issei staggered back a step, his stomach churning. A nauseous mix of anger and fear.
"So... I died?"
"Technically, yes," Akeno replied, her voice sweet as honey but sharp as a guillotine. "But Rias-sama arrived in time to recover what was left of your soul. You were reborn as a pawn… our pawn."
"Pawn?"
Rias snapped her fingers and, in a red flash, a magical symbol appeared beneath Issei's feet—the Gremory Clan's magic circle. He felt the ground pulse, as if something inside him responded to the call.
"You're a devil now," Rias explained. "My servant. And as your king, it's my duty to guide you through this new world."
Issei looked at his hands. They were trembling. The heat of the magic mark faded, but what remained was a warmth in his chest—a new presence, something… different.
"So everything changed…" he murmured. "I'm not human anymore." Now he began to understand all the changes he had felt over the past week, ever since that moment.
"You're still you," Rias corrected gently, standing from her chair and walking up to him. She stopped just a few steps away—close enough for him to feel her intoxicating fragrance and the invisible weight of her power. "But now you belong to something. To my group. To my family."
"And what if I say I don't want this?" — The question escaped before he could stop it.
There was a brief silence. A moment when even the furniture seemed to hold its breath.
Rias stared at him, her blue eyes glowing with something dark and possessive.
"You're already a part of it, Issei. It's not about wanting or not. It's about accepting what you are now… I'm sorry, but since I was summoned and you begged for help, I had no choice."
The ground seemed to fall away beneath his feet. The room spun slightly. It was as if he stood on the edge of an abyss, where everything he knew—school, friends, his normal life—was on the other side. And he couldn't go back anymore.
"You have a lot of questions, I know." — Rias's voice softened. "But for today… I just want you to rest. Your new life is just beginning."
Before he could say anything, she extended her hand to him.
"Trust me. Just for tonight."
Issei hesitated, his heart pounding like drums. But for some reason… he took her hand.
And there, in that warm grasp, everything truly changed. That was the beginning of his journey down the path of Rosei Enlightenment.