"He'll be staying in my room at the House of Takoyaki," Mosquito Girl declared. "So when the six of you finally wizen up, head there."
"I'll take the five of you home. I need some fresh air…" Tatsumaki stretched out a hand, wrapping Fubuki, Suiko, Yuta, Wavygyaza, and Psykos in her psychic power. All of them, aside from one, wore unreadable expressions. "…you two… please don't be here when I get back."
The way Psykos stared at Caspian as she flew out of the oversized bedroom window almost made him feel like she wished to stay, but held herself back.
Caspian knew better. It was nothing more than wishful thinking now that everything was said and done. In the 'Mind Room,' he'd shown them the entire manga and webcomic — up to the last chapter he'd read — back to back, all with season one-level quality. As magical as the mental space was, it couldn't conjure the completed series from thin air.
Despite everything, he felt the knot in his chest loosen. His plan had worked. Everyone, except a certain monster girl, had said the same: something lifted once they left the Mind Room. Like an invisible weight gone. They were free from his will's grasp. Or perhaps 'God's.' If it was the latter's influence, then the entity's retaliation would plausibly arrive from an unseen angle in the near future…
"Hey you." Mosquito Girl crawled across the cushy rug and onto his lap before planting a gentle kiss on his lips.
When she pulled away, her smile was radiant.
"I got no clue what those girls were chirping about," she said cheerfully. "I don't feel any different whatsoever!"
She leaned in close again, arms around his shoulders. "And you can bet I'm not going anywhere. I'll never ever leave your side. No matter what!"
Caspian hugged her tight, burying his face against her neck. Letting her guarantee and warmth ease his troubled self.
¤ ¤ ¤
Meanwhile, a silent change transpired within Doctor Kuseno's Laboratory. Unbeknownst to all creation, whether the Moon, the Earth — or the space beyond, around, or in-between.
Atop a box, one of many lined against the laboratory's wall, stood a bug-catching jar. Inside of said jar there dwelled a being. It resembled a typical mosquito, complete with wings and a stinger.
Her name was Carmin, formally MISNAMED 'Little M.' Trapped within the glass confines, she flitted frantically from wall to wall, her tiny form leaking shimmering motes of stardust that phased straight through the jar's transparent walls.
¤ ¤ ¤
Afternoon of the next day arrived with golden light and birdsong.
Inside a serene, high-end ryotei — a traditional Japanese restaurant adorned with tatami mats and sliding shoji doors — Sweet Mask knelt in a flawless seiza at a black-lacquered low table. The private room surrounding him stretched wide. From potted plants lining the far wall. To the thin white curtains fluttering in the breeze from the garden outside. And even the way the tranquil tea set steamed, untouched. Helped him relax to the utmost in preparation.
As today would be a lesson. He would teach Caspian the principal values of the 'Ideal Hero:' discipline, restraint, and unwavering moral clarity.
But as usual, nothing ever went smoothly went it came to meeting the Caped Baldy…
Because next to him, dressed in a floral kimono, was the 'Monster Princess,' Do-S.
This was Caspian's ultimatum. No her, no him. The logic escaped Sweet Mask. And now he knelt, trapped with a boundary-blind masochist who thought personal space was optional.
"Sweety," Do-S purred while brushing her fingers along the inside of his thigh, "after we're done here, take me to your apartment, hmm? You've got something I need~"
His expression shattered like glass under pressure.
"Unhand me, you hideous creature!" he hissed.
Fortunately, he'd rented out the restaurant.
Do-S practically swooned. "Mmm… to be insulted in public~!"
"What have I told you about calling me that?" he asked.
"I can't remember. Maybe you could remind me… later tonight? At your place?"
Sweet Mask glared daggers at her, wondering how it had come to this. Caspian had explained — something about her spiked whip affecting her brain. Causing her to fall hopelessly in love with him.
Alas, in order to realize his dream, he would have to endure her presence.
¤ ¤ ¤
Do-S delighted in Sweet Mask's reactions. The way his handsome features twisted at her charged words, the way his yellow eyes burned blood-red for the briefest second. It thrilled her. She savored the tension, the raw, inhuman nature simmering beneath his usual sculpted calm.
Her fingers toyed with the chopsticks near her empty plate, but her pink-hued gaze never left him. Teasing him. Testing him. Mocking his naivete.
As if she could ever truly succumb to her own whip's powers. That was absurd. What she displayed was a mere farce. A performance. But she had no choice. When she understood he would kill her without hesitation if she tried to escape, pretending to be his smitten, love-struck fan became her only path forward.
Yet... it wasn't just survival that kept her at his side.
He was beautiful. Aggravating, insufferably righteous, and colder than polished marble. There were worse prisons. Worse wardens. And deep down, beneath all her feigned submission and sultry grins, she didn't hate him…
A shoji door slid open across the room with a soft, papery sibilance.
Do-S tilted her head, now lazily twirling her chopsticks between two fingers as she looked toward the noise.
What surprised her wasn't who entered — but how Sweet Mask reacted.
His tone softened. His posture shifted, subtly but unmistakably. Warmth touched his voice like velvet drawn across a blade. "Caspian, you're finally here. Come sit."
Since when did he sound like that?
Then there was the man approaching their table. Bald. Dressed like a wandering monk or maybe a discount temple attendant.
She expected Sweet Mask to sneer, maybe say something cruel regarding his appearance. Instead, nothing. Not even a flicker of contempt.
Huh.
Right then, Do-S felt a flicker of something she didn't care to name.
A memory pierced through her brain.
That ninja from Z-City Ghost Town — hadn't he received the same treatment from Sweet Mask? The same man she'd nearly been gifted to before being tossed back into the apartment like unwanted merchandise while they spoke in hushed tones.
It had to be him. Those lackadaisical brown eyes, that pervasive calmness… both seared into her mind like brands on flesh.