Beast Gacha System: All Mine-Chapter 176: The Moment

It was... sparkling.

Somehow!

The heavy, cream-colored parchment seemed to glow with a light of its own in her hands. Embossed silver runes spelled out her name and achievement, shimmering with a faint, permanent enchantment of authenticity.

Her sixth and final initiation certificate. The culmination of the ’Top-Tier Nerd’ persona’s academic journey, earned not through safe telekinesis drills, but by giving a Sea Dragon vertigo!

"Why do I have such a great sense of accomplishment...?" Cecilia murmured, spreading the thick paper before her, her fingers tracing the raised lettering. "This is not even the real-world me..."

"What do you mean?" Oathran’s voice was a soft rumble beside her. He leaned in, his shoulder brushing hers. "Whichever version of you deserves it."

His words made her believe she had earned this, in any reality.

Cecilia looked up at him, her blue-green-grey eyes softening, the hard edges of the day’s battles and revelations melting away for a moment. "I love you, Your Majesty..."

A faint glint entered Oathran’s grey eyes. "Mm," he hummed, the sound low and pleased. He couldn’t resist. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both tender and searingly intimate. When he finally pulled back, it was with two, softly spoken, utterly filthy words that were for her ears alone. "Fuck me."

In the background, Serayu and Baswara watched.

The former pressed her elegant fingers to the bridge of her nose, her violet eyes closed in a silent plea for patience. The latter shook his head, his bushy beard wagging with a mixture of bemusement and despair.

The moral degradation of the next generation...

Hadn’t she, just hours ago, declared Eastiel Edengold her boyfriend? Did the modern definition of ’relationship’ now include public lip-locks with mysterious transfer students in front of one’s mentors? Wasn’t this... cheating?

"By the way," Oathran muttered, his lips still close to hers, his voice dropping to a more contemplative, almost regretful murmur.

"I can’t sense Eastiel or Arkai’s presence no matter how hard I try. I guess I’ll die before I can meet my brothers in this place." He sighed, the warmth of his breath fanning her cheek. "Tell your other boyfriends their Elder Brother will bless them. Ah, wait... You’ll forget about me after I die..."

"Wait! Wait! Wait just a moment!" Baswara’s voice boomed, breaking through the intimate bubble. He stepped forward, his brow deeply furrowed. "What even is your relationship, huh? Brothers? Other boyfriends?"

He pointed an accusing, yet deeply confused finger between Oathran and Cecilia.

"Cecilia, please tell me you’re not that kind of woman, right? You’re not doing this... shallowly, right?" The panic of a mentor seeing his brilliant, newly-minted disciple potentially spiraling into some tawdry, complicated mess was evident on his face.

Cecilia merely chuckled. "Please don’t worry, Professor. Of course I love all three of my boyfriends. And all three of them love me alongside each other."

Baswara blinked. Then, his expression cleared, the storm clouds of concern parting as if by magic. He reached out and gave her shoulder a firm, approving pat. "Ohh... that’s a relief. Good. Love all your partners. Good child."

He nodded sagely, as if she’d just explained a particularly elegant theorem.

"WAIT—SENIOR!" Serayu’s composure finally shattered. Her voice rose an octave. She stared at Baswara as if he’d grown a second head. "WHY ARE YOU AGREEING SO EASILY?! Are we going to just act like this is normal?!"

Baswara turned to her, his expression one of wisdom. He gestured broadly at Cecilia. "Look at this lass, Serayu," he said, his tone implying the answer was self-evident. "What part of her is normal again?"

He tsk-tsked, shaking his head at his companion’s lack of vision. "Let’s just accept this new concept of relationship. Young people always invent something new. We must encourage them."

He beamed at Cecilia, the picture of progressive mentorship. Serayu could only stare, her violet eyes wide with utter disbelief, caught between two worlds. One where ancient dragons debated polyamory with academic curiosity, and another where she was clearly the only sane person left in the room.

Wait.. what? Ancient dragons? Why... would she think that?

Cecilia carefully stored her certificate in a protective case and stuffed it in her bag. She turned to Baswara.

"Professor," she said. "I assume none of us had been able to find any solution regarding Oathran’s curse, right?"

...?

The shift was violent. The lingering warmth from the certificate, the absurdity of the ’relationship’ debate, the soft domesticity of the moment, it all evaporated, replaced by a cold, heavy dread.

Baswara’s jovial expression froze, then crumbled. Serayu’s violet eyes now narrowed with pain. Oathran, standing beside Cecilia, didn’t flinch, but his gaze dropped to the floor.

Cecilia watched the sorrow wash over their faces. She clapped her hands together once.

"Then," she announced, "all we can do is just make use of these last four days to their fullest."

She turned her bright gaze back to Baswara. "I want to cook for all of us. Can we invite everyone in Oathran’s life for dinner?"

Serayu and Baswara looked at each other.

"Let’s try and contact Jenggala again," Baswara said, his voice gruff but softer now. "For Lazuardi, he’ll easily come after his business with the Vasilievs."

Serayu nodded, a graceful incline of her head. "I will ensure the message is sent."

Cecilia smiled. She then turned to Oathran. "I can invite Angela and Stevan too, right?"

Oathran looked down at her, and the love in his grey eyes was so vast it seemed to hold whole constellations of regret and joy. He nodded, reaching out to stroke her hair, his fingers threading through the golden strands.

"Of course. Anyone you wish." His thumb brushed her cheek. "Again... too bad we can’t reach Arkai and Eastiel."

Too bad. In this world built from reflections, the two pillars of her other heart were frustratingly out of frame.

Cecilia leaned into his touch, then wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face against his chest. She could hear the steady, mortal rhythm of his heart, a countdown clock made of muscle and blood.

"It’s fine," she murmured, her voice muffled against the fabric of his uniform. "This scenario is special for you."

And it was. A stolen pocket of time, where he was just a boy, and she was just a girl, and the end had a date but hadn’t yet arrived.

That night, the remote residence was filled with the warm sounds of a gathering. Cecilia had found a recipe in the library.

Pasta Caviar, with real caviar on the side. The pasta was acini di pepe, tiny rounds like couscous, in a velvety cream sauce that balanced the salty burst of real caviar.

Quite a luxury of a dish with intricate presentation she’d never encountered in her real, often austere life. She wanted to cook it and taste it. With everyone in Oathran’s life.

The table was set.

Angela arrived. Her sharp eyes immediately found Oathran, and the anxiety and wariness there was still palpable. But when she saw Cecilia, calm at the stove, some of the tension left Angela’s shoulders. They had made up. That was something. She chose a seat close to Cecilia.

Stevan followed, his usual composed demeanor tinged with confusion. Again, he was told nothing. The world was bending in ways the AU Chief Warden’s logic couldn’t map.

Lazuardi arrived last, his face drawn. The business with Arzhen and the Vasiliev family clearly weighed on him, but a deeper, more primal unease settled over him as he entered the room.

His eyes found Oathran, and he chose the seat farthest from him, as if putting physical distance between himself and a gravitational field he feared would crush him.

As they ate, the salty burst of caviar against rich, creamy pasta was somehow perfect. Serayu and Baswara shared another of their silent looks, a slight frown on Serayu’s face as her gaze swept the attendees.

There was still a missing person.

Cecilia caught it too. She was curious about this ’Jenggala.’ Another guardian? Another ’dragon’ in this human world, tasked with watching over a dying star?

The system of this reality was different, she’d pieced that together. Here, the Key Bearer was a random, tragic sacrifice every century. A death and an erasure, clean and complete. No polar doors, no voidcrawlers, no endless war. Just a quiet, scheduled oblivion.

Oathran’s parents in this world, according to the sparse records she’d glimpsed, had passed away.

But... in the real world...

She’d only ever heard Oathran mention his mother.

She’d ask him about his parents later, she decided, filing the question away. A secret for another moment, if they had one.

For now, under the gentle glow of the dining room lights, with the clink of forks against porcelain and the gentle murmur of conversation, they would do as she had requested.

They would use the time. They would share a meal. They would build a memory, however temporary, in the face of the unmaking to come.

They would enjoy the moment.