"I don't actually hate country mice, to be honest."
It was such an illogical statement that it felt almost divine, like a turning point in fate itself. At that moment, Kure Ragna entered Makima mode.
But there wasn't a hint of amusement on his face. His voice was calm—too calm, as if he were merely stating an undisputed fact of the universe.
"I consider myself a reasonable person. I don't hold prejudice against any creature. Whether it's a cute puppy or a filthy rat, if I come across one on the street, I don't mind lowering myself, petting it, maybe even offering a small piece of biscuit."
"But if that same rat jumps onto my dining table while I'm eating—stealing my food, or worse, overturning my plate…"
His words struck like nails being driven into wood.
Sakayanagi Arisu's playful smile faded, and she adjusted her posture.
She understood him just as well as he understood her.
Kure Ragna's usual tone was flamboyant, laced with sarcasm and mischief. But that didn't mean he was a bad-tempered person. As long as one stayed on the right side of his "friendliness," there was nothing to fear.
Cross that line, though, and all that remained was a cold, brutal logic—the kind that only knew one answer: violence.
"I heard you wanted to piss me off?"
Fine.
"Then I'll let you piss me off."
It was just a question of whether or not they could afford the consequences.
---
Ryuen Kakeru remained composed, unfazed by the thinly veiled threat. Instead of getting angry, he smirked and took a deliberate step forward, his foot disappearing beneath the dining table.
"I suggest you reconsider that move."
Kure Ragna's sharp eyes caught the motion instantly.
"If you try to kick over this table," his voice was unshaken, almost bored, "then I won't just break your leg—I'll tear it off and shove it down your throat."
Ryuen's smirk widened. "Oh? That so?"
Kure Ragna met his gaze without hesitation. "You can try and find out."
The tension in the air escalated from playful hostility to imminent violence in just three exchanges.
Even the waitress standing at a distance clutched the menu against her chest, as if she could use it as a shield.
Then—
"Albert."
Ryuen's voice was calm.
"Yes, sir."
Before he even finished speaking, the towering man behind him—a hulking presence like a living fortress—moved. Albert reached forward, his massive hand stretching out to seize Kure Ragna by the collar.
But in the next instant—
THUD.
Albert collapsed.
The giant, who had been as steady as a mountain, was now kneeling on the floor as if his legs had given out. His massive right hand was twisted backward, locked in a precise Aikido grip, his thumb bent at a sharp and unnatural angle.
Meanwhile, Kure Ragna had risen to his feet.
He was tall—half a head taller than Ryuen—and his presence loomed over the group.
Releasing Albert's wrist, he lightly patted his shoulder.
"Kneel down. Don't get up."
Albert gritted his teeth, veins bulging, and immediately attempted to rise—
BANG!
A boot came crashing down onto his shoulder, slamming him back to the floor.
His knees smacked against the hard tiles with a crack that echoed through the restaurant. A muffled groan escaped his lips, but he couldn't even cry out—his own chest muscles muffled the sound as his jaw pressed against them.
This time, he wasn't just kneeling. His forehead touched the cold floor.
Two deep footprints were imprinted on his back, as if he had become nothing more than a stepping stone.
Kure Ragna's voice was cold.
"Stay down. Try again, and I'll crush your skull like a watermelon."
Albert didn't move. Whether he had submitted or lost consciousness, it was hard to tell.
---
With Albert out of the way, Kure Ragna turned his gaze toward the remaining three.
His expression was unreadable behind his sunglasses, but his body language said it all—
"Are you kneeling too?"
Ryuen Kakeru's smirk twitched.
"Tch…"
Darkness flickered across his face.
"I'll let this slide for now, but don't think this is over. You'd better watch yourself at school—"
His words were cut short.
A strong hand clamped onto the top of his head, fingers pressing down like iron clamps.
And then—
THUD.
Ryuen Kakeru knelt.
His forehead hit the floor with a dull thump.
Kure Ragna's voice was merciless.
"'Let this slide'?"
His grip tightened.
"If problems could be solved just by saying 'forget it this time,' then who would sing praises of justice?"
Ryuen was no weakling. The moment his knee hit the ground, he tried to rise again.
But just as before—
BANG!
A foot came down, this time directly on the back of his head.
The impact was brutal—so strong that his forehead smacked against the floor again, this time hard enough to break skin. Small droplets of blood spattered outward from the point of contact.
There was no skill, no strategy—just an overwhelming gap in pure strength.
"You bastard, let Ryuen-san go!"
The last remaining male student lunged forward, fists swinging wildly.
Kure Ragna's gaze flicked to him.
Oh?
His form wasn't bad—at least compared to the average thug. His stance had some discipline.
But some experience was not enough experience.
Without even releasing the pressure on Ryuen, Kure Ragna sidestepped smoothly, catching the boy's wrist in midair. A quick push-and-pull threw off his center of gravity, and before he could react, Kure Ragna twisted his arm behind his back and slammed him onto the next table.
"Next, I'll break your arm."
He spoke casually, as if announcing the daily weather.
The boy's face twisted in agony as his joints were forced into an unnatural angle. He gritted his teeth and turned to the last remaining figure—
"Ibuki! Call the teacher!"
The short-haired girl hesitated.
If she ran to get a teacher, it would take at least ten minutes to return. By then, they'd be beaten beyond recognition.
But if she jumped in now…
She'd just get stomped like the others.
Just as she hesitated, a commanding voice rang from the entrance.
"That's enough! Fighting is strictly prohibited at this school!"
Kure Ragna paused.
His gaze shifted toward the door.
A familiar figure stood there, carrying an air of absolute authority.
A smile crept onto his lips.
"Well, if it isn't the student council president."
His grip didn't loosen.
"Let me tell you something—this isn't a fight. I'm simply teaching a few country mice to stay off my dining table."
His sunglasses gleamed.
"But if you plan to stop me…"
The smile widened.
"Then I can make you kneel just like them."
---