Seven Sins System Chapter 780. I Don’t Love Easily

Seven Sins System Chapter 780. I Don’t Love Easily

She shook her head faintly. “You say that like fate hasn’t tried to rip everything apart around us already.”

“It has,” I agreed. “And I’m still here.”

Her eyes flickered, searching my face like she was measuring whether I meant that or just said it because it sounded strong.

“I don’t love easily,” I added quietly. “But when I do… I don’t let go.”

That was apparently the final crack in whatever emotional armor she had left.

She stepped forward suddenly, closing the last inch of distance and wrapping her arms around me. The movement was quick, almost desperate, like she hadn’t planned it but couldn’t stop herself either.

Her body was warm. Softer than most angels allowed themselves to be. I felt the faint shimmer of restrained wings brushing against my back, instinctively trying to shield and cling at the same time.

For a moment, she just held me.

No divine aura. No holy pressure. Just Puriel, pressing her forehead lightly against my shoulder, breathing in slow, uneven pulls like she was memorizing the feeling of being allowed to want something.

I rested one hand gently against her back. Not possessive. Not dominant. Just steady.

“I hate how much this matters to me,” she murmured against my chest.

“Me too,” I said softly.

She huffed out a faint laugh that shook slightly with leftover nerves.

After a few seconds, she pulled back, though her fingers lingered against my sleeve before finally letting go. She brushed a stray tear from the corner of her eye like she was annoyed it had escaped at all.

She stood there for a long moment, wings finally relaxing fully, folding into nothing as she let herself just be Puriel, not an emissary, not a judge, not a sword.

The rooftop felt smaller now. More intimate. The distance between us charged with things neither of us said out loud.

Below, a bell rang. Curfew warning. Students groaned in unison somewhere across the campus.

“I should go,” she said.

“Yeah.”

She hesitated, then stepped closer and rested her hand briefly against my arm. No sparks. No divine backlash. Just warmth.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?”

“For not changing,” she replied.

She stepped back, wings whispering into existence just long enough to lift her lightly, then faded again as she moved toward the stairwell instead of flying away.

I watched her go.

Then I looked back out over the academy.

Luci complaining in his room.

Algan probably reorganizing furniture like it was a tactical operation.

Lumira settling into mortal life with a smile and borrowed clothes.

I muttered under my breath, “I wonder what my life will be.”

The wind swallowed the question. No answer. No prophecy. Just the distant hum of campus lights and the quiet weight of choice pressing against my ribs.

Then I disappeared.

The teleport back to my room was clean and silent. No ripple, no distortion. I landed softly beside my bed and let the night settle. I didn’t bother opening the laptop again. Didn’t check the alley case. Didn’t think about cultists collecting infernal remains or angels pretending cooperation was painless.

I lay down.

For once, sleep came quickly.

The next morning, I expected chaos.

I expected Luci to have set the fire alarm off because the shower pressure offended him. I expected Algan to have accidentally intimidated three faculty members and reorganized the hallway security layout. I expected Lumira to have accidentally blessed half the cafeteria.

Instead…

Peace.

The kind of quiet that felt suspicious.

I opened my eyes slowly. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting warm stripes across the ceiling. No screaming. No infernal tremors. No dramatic Pride tantrums echoing through drywall.

“…That’s unsettling,” I muttered.

I rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom. The water ran warm. Steam fogged the mirror. The scent of cheap soap and generic shampoo filled the small space. Mortal life really did reduce everything to practical simplicity.

After the shower, I walked to the kitchenette.

My breakfast was pathetic.

Two slices of bread. Strawberry jam. Slightly unevenly spread because I was still half asleep. No infernal delicacies. No blood wine. Just carbohydrates and artificial fruit flavor.

I stared at it.

“This is fine,” I told myself.

I ate it anyway.

Jam stuck faintly to my thumb. The sweetness was almost aggressive compared to infernal cuisine. Too bright. Too cheerful.

After finishing, I wiped my hands, buttoned my shirt, and shrugged on my doctor coat. The fabric settled comfortably across my shoulders. Familiar disguise. Comfortable armor.

When I opened my dorm door…

Algan was already there.

Standing.

Straight posture. Hands behind his back. Dressed in simple academy attire. Dark slacks. Neutral shirt. His mortal form made him look slightly smaller than his demonic one, but he still radiated disciplined military presence like it was baked into his bones.

“Your Highness,” he said immediately.

I blinked.

“I’m Dr. Allen here,” I corrected.

He paused.

“Yes,” he said carefully. “Dr. Allen.”

“…Try harder.”

“I will try.”

I stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind me.

“Did you see Luci anywhere?” I asked.

Algan shook his head once. “No.”

That was… ominous.

I walked to Luci’s door and knocked once out of courtesy I didn’t actually believe in.

No response.

I opened it.

The room was empty.

Not just empty.

Untouched.

The bed was perfectly neat. Blankets smooth. Pillows fluffed. Desk untouched. Closet door slightly ajar but still organized exactly as Penelope had prepared it.

I stood there for a few seconds.

“…That explains the peace,” I muttered.

Algan stepped into the doorway behind me. “Lord Luci is disappear.”

I huffed lightly. “No.”

He glanced at me.

“He’s sleeping somewhere else,” I said. “Probably teleported to a five star hotel because the mattress offended him.”

Algan nodded thoughtfully like that was a completely reasonable tactical relocation.

“Should we retrieve him?” he asked.

“No.”

I closed the door gently.

“Ignore him. He’ll show up when he’s bored.”

“Understood.”

We walked toward the elevator together.

The morning campus energy felt different than at night. Brighter. Noisy. Alive with half awake students dragging themselves toward early classes. The air smelled like coffee and grass still damp with dew. Somewhere nearby, someone burned toast.

The elevator ride down was quiet.