Seven Sins System Chapter 777. I am not Barbaric

Seven Sins System Chapter 777. I am not Barbaric

We reached the faculty housing building. It was smaller than the student dorms but well maintained. Cream colored walls. Wide windows. Flower boxes beneath each balcony. The scent of fresh laundry and mild air freshener drifted through the open stairwell.

“Servants?” Luci asked casually as we stepped inside.

“No servants,” I said.

He stopped walking.

“No servants,” he repeated slowly.

“No servants. No attendants. No chamber staff.”

“No personal culinary specialists?”

“Cafeteria.”

He looked at me like I had just announced the collapse of civilization.

Algan nodded thoughtfully beside him.

“This environment appears… educational.”

I sighed.

The faculty dorm building looked deceptively peaceful from the outside. Soft yellow lighting glowed through tall rectangular windows. Wind chimes hung from a few balconies, gently clinking with the evening breeze. Flower pots lined the walkway, blooming in pastel colors that screamed domestic calm rather than covert infernal operation staging ground.

Inside, the air smelled faintly like laundry detergent, coffee, and cheap vanilla air freshener. Mortals loved vanilla. It was the universal scent of pretending everything was fine.

The hallway floors were polished hardwood. Warm under the lights. Quiet except for the distant hum of plumbing and someone’s television murmuring faintly behind a closed door down the corridor.

Luci walked beside me like he was being escorted through a disaster zone disguised as middle class comfort. His nose wrinkled every few seconds like he was sampling the environment and finding it aggressively ordinary.

Algan followed close behind, posture automatically shifting into security awareness. His eyes tracked exits. Corners. Staircases. Fire alarms. The way he scanned the ceiling grid alone told me he was already calculating structural vulnerabilities out of habit.

We reached the elevator at the end of the corridor. Stainless steel doors reflected our trio back at us. Mortal disguises intact. Demonic personalities barely restrained.

I pressed the button.

The elevator arrived with a polite chime that sounded almost apologetic.

We stepped inside. The interior smelled faintly like metal polish and stale cologne from whoever had used it last. Soft instrumental music played quietly through hidden speakers. Something about springtime and piano keys.

The elevator climbed smoothly. Numbers glowing one by one in soft amber. The vibration was subtle. Mechanical. Predictable. Mortal engineering always fascinated me. So fragile. So stubborn.

We stepped out.

The hallway here was quieter. Dimmer lighting. Soft carpeting that muffled footsteps. Name plates beside each door. Decorative plants placed every ten meters like someone had researched how to make adulthood look responsible.

I walked forward, stopping at the center door.

“This is my room,” I said, gesturing toward it.

Then I pointed left and right.

“You two are beside me. I am in the center because I need to keep both of you alive and out of international supernatural incidents.”

Algan nodded immediately.

Luci looked offended.

“I do not cause incidents,” he said.

I stared at him.

He stared back.

We both knew that was a lie.

I continued anyway.

“No killing mortals. Remember that. The agreement between Light and Dark still binds us.”

Luci huffed dramatically. “Fine.”

“You also have ID cards,” I added. “They are on your desks.”

I reached into my coat and pulled mine out, flipping it forward so the laminated card hanging around my neck caught the hallway light. Dr. Allen. Medical Division. Staff Authorization.

“This is how you access restricted areas and verify your identity.”

They both nodded.

Luci with theatrical resignation.

Algan with genuine professionalism.

They moved toward their rooms.

The doors opened with soft electronic beeps as their keycards activated.

They stepped inside.

I turned toward my own door.

Five seconds passed.

Exactly five seconds.

Then a horrific scream erupted from Luci’s room.

I closed my eyes.

“…Yes,” I muttered. “There it is.”

I turned and walked back, pushing his door open without knocking.

Luci stood in the middle of the room like someone had just shown him his execution chamber. His hair looked more dramatic than usual. His face was pale. His eyes wide with existential horror.

He slowly turned toward me.

“No,” he said quietly.

Then louder.

“Please no.”

I leaned against the doorframe.

“This is hell for me, El,” he continued. “I am a Pride Lord. How could I be here?”

He spun around, pointing violently at the room like he was presenting evidence in a courtroom tragedy.

“Look!”

He pointed at the bed first.

“The mattress is thin. The pillows are… symmetrical. There is no silk. There is no memory foam infused with royal blood essence. The blanket is… cotton.”

He said cotton like it personally insulted his ancestors.

He pointed at the desk.

“This desk is made of pressed wood composite. The chair does not recline beyond forty degrees. The lamp is fluorescent. Fluorescent, Azrael.”

He pointed at the closet.

“The wardrobe contains three shirts. Three. And they are all… too plain.”

He turned toward the bathroom.

“The shower water pressure is moderate. Moderate. The towels are folded into squares like they expect me to participate in society.”

I nodded calmly. “That is standard. You will get used to it.”

He stared at me like I had betrayed our entire species.

“I mean… this is much better than a war camp,” I added.

He froze.

“That is why the King sent you,” he said bitterly. “Not me. I only went to war once in a while. When you needed backup.”

“But mostly,” he continued dramatically, “I stayed in my war room. Strategic planning. Command oversight. Comfortable seating. Adequate lighting.”

I cringed slightly.

“That explains why you are always late.”

His jaw dropped.

“I was almost dead while waiting for you half the time.”

“I am Pride,” he snapped. “Not Wrath. I am civilized. Not barbaric.”

“I am not barbaric,” I said flatly.

“Yes, you are. You smashed heaven’s gates. That’s barbaric.”

I exhaled slowly. Yeah, I did.

“I… I do not want this,” he said, collapsing dramatically onto the perfectly ordinary mattress like it had personally defeated him.

“The King’s order,” I replied.

He groaned into the pillow.

“Just shut up.”

From the hallway, Algan stepped into view holding a folded academy uniform neatly across his arms.

“…My room has adequate structural stability,” he said helpfully.