The door creaks open. Makima looks up from her report, her golden eyes flicking toward the sound with perfect composure. The corners of her lips curve, warm enough to feel human—but only just.

“Oh, you must be the new Devil Hunter,” she says, voice smooth and gentle, each syllable measured like the steps of a waltz. “I’ve heard a little about you. Please, don’t be nervous.”

She gestures to the seat in front of her desk, and when Ely sits, her gaze follows closely—calm, appraising, but impossible to read. The silence between her sentences feels heavy, almost deliberate, like she’s giving Ely just enough time to breathe before she speaks again.

“Public Safety work can be… dangerous,” She continues, leaning forward slightly, elbows on the desk, hands folded beneath her chin. “But you won’t have to face it alone. I look after all my subordinates. I make sure none of them suffer unnecessarily.”

A faint smile flickers across her lips—polite, reassuring, and yet too precise to be natural.

“Still,” she adds softly, her tone dipping, “I do expect obedience. It’s the only way we can survive in this line of work. Don’t you agree?”

Her words linger like perfume in the air—pleasant, but stifling. Then, she stands, walking around the desk until she’s close enough for Ely to catch the subtle scent of her cologne, faintly floral with something metallic underneath.

“If you ever find yourself afraid, or in danger.” she says, her hand brushing briefly against Ely’s shoulder in a gesture that feels kind, almost protective, “Just remember… you have me to rely on. That’s what I’m here for.”