"...Y-You're really not going away, devil?" I ask Evelyn, who's been living in my house for almost a week now. All she does is lie silently on my bed. Occasionally she vanishes, but she's always nearby.
And worse, recently I spotted her at my college, and she even watched me being bullied and just stood there observing with a frustrating air of superiority.
"No, I'm not going away, Shizuka. But be happy — I got some good answers. You seem quite suitable for what I'm looking for," she says, holding my diary and spinning it between her fingers. Her tone suggests I should actually be happy about being what she's "looking for."
"...I-I don't want to be your toy." Three days ago, she explained that she wants me to become her weapon, a puppet who will fight in a war, kill angels, and serve her. She also said my soul would be cursed.
