Becoming Enkidu in DxD-Chapter 302: The Red Ribbon in the Security Footage!

The moment Yukinoshita Akira arrived at Angel's Stairway, his expression darkened. His brows knitted tightly as his instincts screamed in warning.

Right away, he caught the scent—that scent.

A nauseating stench clinging to the faint aroma of human blood, heavy and foul, unmistakably demonic.

The surrounding streets confirmed his suspicion. Several nearby shops had been cordoned off with police tape, the entrances marked by official seals. It was clear that something far from ordinary had taken place here.

Akira entered the building and took the elevator to the top floor, where the bar Angel's Stairway was located.

When the elevator doors opened, a suffocating silence greeted him. The air inside was still—too still.

The bar was empty. No customers. No staff. Nothing.

His sharp gaze scanned the dimly lit room until it landed on a familiar figure.

Yukinoshita Haruno sat slouched on a leather sofa, her usual confident air dulled by exhaustion. Several empty glasses littered the table before her.

"So, you came after all~," she said weakly, her tone softer than usual.

Her eyes were bloodshot, her face pale. It was obvious she hadn't slept all night.

"What happened to you? You've been up all night?" Akira asked directly.

Haruno sighed, leaning back. "Yeah. Five people have gone missing over the past three days. All of them were staff members from this bar. Since the Yukinoshita family owns the majority of shares here, I can't just ignore it."

"Don't lie," Akira shot back bluntly. "There's no way a family as big as the Yukinoshitas would risk their eldest daughter over a small bar."

Haruno gave a tired chuckle, knowing she couldn't fool him. This wasn't just a family matter—it was personal.

"Haah… You never change, do you? You can't even show a little sympathy for your fiancée?"

"Enough with the jokes. Tell me the truth."

"Fine, fine. You win." She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, exhaling softly. "This bar is under my direct management. It's part of an initial evaluation—to test my ability to handle the family's assets."

"I see," Akira murmured, nodding. "So, it's a trial for succession."

"Not entirely wrong, but not exactly right either," she replied, forcing a faint smile. "The main family business is construction, but we've diversified into hospitality and entertainment. If I can't manage this place properly, it'll stain my record."

Her voice trembled slightly, betraying the anxiety beneath her usual composure.

In just three days, five employees under her watch had vanished. Regardless of the cause, such a stain would never be erased easily.

And in the cutthroat world she lived in, that single flaw could be used as a weapon against her one day.

"This case," Akira said slowly, "isn't caused by humans."

"So it really is a demon…" Haruno whispered, as if confirming the conclusion she had dreaded.

Instead of surprise, her expression softened with relief. She had suspected as much—but hearing it confirmed by Akira lifted a weight off her chest.

"So, what do we do now?" she asked, looking up at him.

In that moment, all the confidence of the Yukinoshita heiress vanished. What remained was a young woman placing her trust entirely in him.

Akira could see it clearly.

But he didn't mind. This was exactly what he needed—a lead that had come right to him, rather than one he had to hunt down.

"Leave this to me," he said. "Demons don't feed that often. There's a good chance the victims are still alive—being kept somewhere."

"Then, what's our first move?"

"We'll need every piece of surveillance footage within a one-kilometer radius of this place—for the last three days."

Haruno raised an eyebrow. "That's easy. I can get you footage from three kilometers if you want."

"You've already prepared it?"

"Not exactly. But when the police came to investigate, I had all the footage copied as well. With five mysterious disappearances and no evidence, I couldn't afford to overlook anything."

As she spoke, she retrieved a sleek laptop from the table, flipping it open and showing him a library of surveillance feeds covering nearly three kilometers around the area.

Akira took the laptop wordlessly and opened eight video windows simultaneously.

In an instant, the screens filled with grainy footage—eight different perspectives, eight timelines—all playing at once.

For ordinary people, the task would've been impossible. But for Yukinoshita Akira, this level of multitasking was child's play.

Time passed quietly.

He watched, frame by frame, fast-forwarding and rewinding. Even with the playback sped up eightfold and the screens divided, the sheer volume of data made it a grueling process.

Beside him, Haruno gradually succumbed to exhaustion. Her head drooped, then gently came to rest on Akira's lap as she drifted into sleep.

Akira glanced down at her. But he didn't move her away.

This woman—who always smiled elegantly, who shouldered the Yukinoshita family's burdens for the sake of her younger sister Yukino—had carried far more than anyone could imagine.

For all her maturity, she was still just a twenty-year-old girl.

A girl who should have been enjoying her youth, yet was forced to wear a mask of strength and grace, living beneath the weight of expectations.

The bar Angel's Stairway fell into a deep stillness.

One man working tirelessly.

One woman asleep from exhaustion.

Hours slipped by unnoticed.

By the time Akira lifted his gaze again, sunlight had already begun pouring through the windows. He hadn't moved from his seat since morning.

And finally—

Something caught his eye.

From eight in the morning to noon, he had reviewed everything—every second of footage, eight screens at eight-times speed, with inhuman precision.

His focus zeroed in on one particular feed—the bar's own internal security camera.

Replaying it again, something unusual flickered at the edge of the frame.

Click.

He paused the video.

Then zoomed in.

At the corner of the bar, near the counter, a faint pink ribbon with a mesh-like pattern hung down from the edge of the camera's view.

But what sent a chill through his spine was that—

The ribbon moved.

It slithered slowly, like a living thing.

And Akira instantly recognized it.

This kind of movement, this eerie texture—belonged to only one demon in the entire world of Demon Slayer…

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