Seven Sins System Chapter 417. You Want Me to Answer That?

Seven Sins System Chapter 417. You Want Me to Answer That?

Puriel’s PoV

A silent tension seemed to hang between Puriel and Azrael. The only sound was the soft, rhythmic breathing of the girls on the bed, a stark contrast to the storm of thoughts raging in Puriel's mind. Standing at the foot of the bed, her hands moved, reaching out towards the girls. A soft, ethereal glow emanated from her palms, bathing the room in a gentle light.

Puriel knew the girls had recovered; they no longer needed her healing. Yet, here she was, performing a redundant ritual. The glow from her hands was nothing more than a façade. But why continue the charade? The question echoed in her head, unanswered.

Perhaps it was the presence of Azrael that compelled her to maintain the illusion. Azrael, sitting casually against the headboard, his intense gaze fixed on her. There was something about him, something that always drew her closer, yet filled her with an inexplicable turmoil. Puriel couldn't tell. All she knew was that standing here, under his watchful eyes, made her feel alive in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

The truth was, Puriel was confused. Her feelings for Azrael were a tangled web of anger, fascination, and something dangerously close to desire. Maybe she continued this pretense of healing because it gave her a reason to stay in this room, to be near him.

Yes, she had tried—to bridge the chasm of their disparate worlds by sharing her thoughts and the norms of her realm. She wanted, more than anything, to make him understand what was appropriate or not in her eyes, to give him a glimpse of her truth. But as their eyes met in the shadow-draped silence, the weight of their differences pressed down on her, suffocating and dense.

Raised in environments as contrasting as night and day, their foundational beliefs and modes of thinking were worlds apart. Yet, despite the sensible part of her mind screaming its protests, Puriel couldn’t help but push against the immutable, to test the bounds of possibility. It was a foolish endeavor, perhaps, clinging to a fragile thread of hope in the vast darkness.

Azrael had been blunt. He had said to her that they couldn’t be together. It wasn’t just impractical; it was impossible. A goddess and a devil, intertwined? It was the stuff of tragic myths, not real life. But then the past had unveiled itself, peeling back layers of memory to reveal Azrael was El—the El of her childhood, the friend who had once made her world a brighter, kinder place.

El had been her playmate, the boy who had waited weeks to fulfill a promise because his word was his bond. He had been the one who went berserk, who had stained his hands with blood, driven by a fierce desire to protect her from any harm. This revelation had reignited a spark of hope in Puriel's heart. The possibility that somewhere beneath Azrael’s hardened, devilish exterior, the boy she knew and cherished still lingered.

Could she revive El, coax him out from under the layers of darkness that Azrael had wrapped around himself?

Once more, Puriel's eyes flickered to Azrael, and as if summoned by her silent inquiry, she found his gaze already anchored on her. His expression, a mask of inscrutability, gave nothing away. The slight furrow in his brow could have been irritation or perhaps frustration that he couldn't elicit her usual reactions.

Choosing to ignore him seemed the easiest response, but in truth, Puriel felt paralyzed. Lost in the complexity of their connection, she recognized a fundamental discord. As a devil, Azrael's views on relationships were straightforward, largely revolving around the primal aspects—sex being a primary component. But Puriel, a goddess enshrined in the virtues of chastity, found herself at a crossroads of divine expectation and personal longing. She knew in the deepest chambers of her heart that she could never fulfill this part of him. It was a chasm too vast to bridge, a need she could not—and would not—sate.

This difference in understanding twisted inside her. She wasn't even sure if Azrael had the capacity to grasp the concept of love as she knew it. To him, the devil's doctrine taught that lust was an end in itself, and love, if it was acknowledged at all, was a secondary, perhaps unnecessary, emotion. This philosophy clashed violently with everything Puriel held sacred. How could she explain the depth of love, its sacrifices and its purity, to someone whose very nature might be incapable of comprehending it fully?

"Hey, wanna bang?" Azrael's words sliced through the charged silence without any pretense, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on Puriel. The bluntness of his question, so crudely laid out, was like a physical jolt, snapping Puriel out of her contemplative daze.

She turned sharply towards him, her expression twisting into a cringe of disgust.

In Puriel’s understanding, such acts were fundamentally about procreation, a necessary physicality for mortals to continue their lineage. Yet, she was aware that for many humans, it transcended mere biological need, evolving into a profound expression of love and commitment between mates. But devils like Azrael? They engaged in it for sheer pleasure, a pursuit of hedonism in its most raw form.

“You seriously want me to answer that?” she retorted, her voice dripping with displeasure. Somewhere in the depths of her disgust, she knew he had achieved exactly what he’d aimed for.

A satisfied smile curled the corners of Azrael's lips, clearly amused by her reaction. “At last, you gave me a reaction,” he noted, his voice laced with satisfaction.

“So you just want a reaction from me?” Puriel’s voice rose, tinged with annoyance. She crossed her arms, distancing herself physically as if to protect her sanctity from his flippant disregard. “Don't you think that's too childish?” she challenged, her eyes narrowing.