The victory celebration found its timing—evening, naturally. Location: the familiar palace grand hall.
At first glance, it resembled yesterday's alliance ceremony reception, postponed and repackaged.
Which, technically speaking, wasn't inaccurate.
Yesterday's carefully-orchestrated ceremony had been derailed by Loki's theatrical interruption. Injuries had soured the festive atmosphere. Odin had barely managed scrawling his signature before racing back to Valhalla for Mjolnir retrieval—midnight departure, zero celebration.
The word "festivity" hadn't applied remotely.
Today? Different story entirely. Alliance formalized. The disruptive Norse god eliminated. Double blessings demanding proper commemoration.
Thus, as night descended once more upon demon realm capital Lilith, the brilliantly-illuminated palace interior gradually swelled with animated energy.
Scene transition: celebration venue proper.
When Bokue arrived from the hotel—Kanon in tow, her face carrying lingering roses-in-snow flush—they'd barely crossed the threshold before interception occurred.
"Ah, Lord Bokue! Finally!"
The Phoenix girl's familiar voice materialized from the side.
Turning revealed Ravel—who'd spent this morning battling Loki alongside Rias's squad—practically skipping toward them, evening gown replacing combat attire, wine glass held with practiced elegance. Her cheeks bore subtle crimson that might've been cosmetics. Or might not.
"What perfect timing—I literally just turned around and spotted you arriving. Such fortunate coincidence!"
Finally... perfect timing...
Bokue's internal commentary noted the interesting conjunction of those particular words.
His gaze tracked toward her approach vector. That shadowy corner near the main entrance—deliberately dim, strategically positioned for monitoring arrivals without drawing attention. The kind of spot nobody occupied mid-celebration without specific surveillance objectives.
"Ravel, were you camping that corner specifically waiting for my entrance?"
"Eh? Ah... n-no! Absolutely not!"
Like shattered glass exposing raw truth beneath, Ravel's previously-maintained elegant composure fractured instantly.
"I... I genuinely just happened to notice Lord Bokue's arrival! Oh right—I remembered wanting to toast you! Since this afternoon's subjugation had Lord Bokue rescuing me, and I haven't properly expressed gratitude yet!"
"Right now?"
Bokue glanced at his empty hands.
"I literally just arrived, and I—"
He'd intended noting the absence of any drinking vessel, rendering "toasting" logistically impossible.
Except Ravel's eyes brightened noticeably before he could finish—and she thrust her own wine glass directly into his grasp.
"No problem! Lord Bokue can use this glass. Actually, this wine was always intended for Lord Bokue anyway."
"Wait, then you—"
Bokue observed the Phoenix girl's now-empty hands. How could this possibly not be your glass?
Yet Ravel waved dismissively at light speed.
"No no no, my brother's holding my drink! Having someone carry two glasses while waiting alone looks suspicious... Anyway! This glass was specifically prepared for Lord Bokue!"
Bokue: "..."
Previous sentence: "I absolutely wasn't waiting specifically for you."
Immediately following sentence: "This wine was specifically prepared for you."
Moments ago: "Carrying two glasses looks weird."
Just now: "My brother's holding mine."
So you holding two would be suspicious, but your brother doing identical things is perfectly normal?
The logical inconsistencies were so numerous, he couldn't determine where to begin unpacking them.
Though ultimately—details didn't matter. The girl's gesture carried genuine thoughtfulness. No reason overcomplicating acceptance.
"Alright. Thanks."
Bokue raised the glass, downing the red wine in one smooth motion before returning the empty vessel to Ravel.
"Not bad. Quality selection."
"Mm-hm!"
Receiving the returned glass seemed to delight Ravel more than his accepting her gratitude—practically snatching it back with both hands.
"I'll go check on my brother now! See you later!"
She fled before he could respond—as if fearing he might reconsider—clutching the glass he'd used like precious cargo.
Only after her departure did Kanon's gentle voice emerge beside him.
"Onii-sama truly is popular."
"Well..."
Bokue scratched his temple.
Before formulating proper response, however—
"Ah, I thought I heard Bokue's voice."
Rias emerged from the central crowd alongside assembled girls, immediately locking onto Bokue and Kanon near the entrance. She approached swiftly, fingers interlacing with his free hand while positioning herself with territorial deliberateness—closing distance until proximity became intimacy.
"Where did you disappear this afternoon? After seeing you leave with Archangel Michael, you vanished completely. Half the day searching..."
"What's worth questioning about that?" Kuroka materialized nearby, treating an entire wine bottle like personal flask while taking swigs directly. Her tone dripped with knowing sarcasm. "Where'd he go? What'd he do? Hm?"
Kanon—still holding Bokue's arm—flushed crimson at the cat-woman's implications.
Conversely, Nagisa bounded forward with characteristic enthusiasm, leaning close to her best friend's ear—volume calibrated for exclusive communication.
"Congratulations~ Now Kanon can live happily together with Onii-sama permanently. Though I'm genuinely impressed, Kanon-chan—managing to occupy Onii-sama's attention an entire afternoon? Impressive stamina, fufu~"
"I... it wasn't..."
Kanon's face—already carrying residual flush from earlier—now threatened literal blood leakage from sheer thermal overload.
Yet undeniably, she had spent the afternoon in blissful hotel suite isolation with Bokue.
Credit belonged to her Rihavein royal lineage's exceptional spirit medium physiology. Similar to how La Folia—even unconscious—could rapidly recover via Bokue's "spiritual power" infusions, immediately initiating second rounds.
Post-angelic conversion, Kanon hadn't merely gained control over angelic power. The transformation had unlocked deeper potential—elevating her from six-winged Faux Angel directly to eight-winged Archangel status. Her spiritual centers had exponentially strengthened, absorption-conversion rates skyrocketing.
Precisely that enhancement enabled sustaining entire-afternoon "continuous combat" with Bokue.
But Nagisa showed zero mercy.
Maintaining her signature innocent-energetic-girl smile, she leaned closer—whispering directly into Kanon's ear.
"So after returning from the demon realm, come to my place. The two of us together can give Onii-sama... what do you think?"
She punctuated the suggestion by stepping back, winking playfully.
The white-haired angel resembled an ostrich—head bowed, desperately attempting to bury her scalding face into her collar. Cartoon steam practically rose from her crown.
Yet she nodded imperceptibly, releasing muffled nasal acknowledgment.
"Mm..."
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