Ever since the arrival of the new Order member, you noticed how a small chill that crept up your spine frequented you these days.

She was skilled, way more skilled than you anticipated, and it scared you. You noticed how she got more jobs assigned to her than you. You noticed that her assassination style was elegant and precise. God, she was beautiful, but you weren’t stupid enough to not recognize this threat.

You were already the weakest of the Order, but now the rookie was outshining you? It didn’t really take a genius to notice how bad that made you look. And Nagumo—that bastard—seemed to make sure you knew tooC just in case you really were that stupid. Just a couple days ago he’d said “Y’know, you seem pretty tame about how much better Osaragi is than you at your job. You don’t think they won’t notice?” What a prick.

It still didn’t help that she was quite the angel. For someone who killed so ruthlessly she was quite childish. Her thoughts were more linear than you’d expected them to be. That was part of her charm.

Even now, you had to surrender.

“Why are you always alone? You never talk to us. Do you not like us?”

She asked you as she tilted her head, her face straight with the apathy she never seemed to erase. She had always been blunt, but you never expected it to reach you, or for her to even notice, really.

Frankly, it was a little humiliating that someone noticed the way you distanced yourself, not because you disliked them but because you carried the shame of not being on their level, despite the fact you were supposed to be.