Morning light filtered through the tall windows of Crimson Manor, scattering across the polished table like shards of gold. The servants moved quietly around me, placing dish after dish, but I barely registered any of it.
Old Azrael would have been trembling by now—shoulders hunched, head lowered, fork slipping from nervous fingers.
But I'm not the old Azrael.
Not anymore.
I sat straight, cutting into my food with slow, steady precision. Every movement felt controlled. Intentional. Mine.
Across the table, Duke Ardent Crimson sat with the same cold, immovable expression he probably wore in every past version of this scene. Beside him, Margaret Crimson—the beautiful, distant elder sister—sat in perfect silence, eyes fixed anywhere but on me.
As usual, she pretended I didn't exist.
As usual, he looked at me with thinly veiled dissatisfaction.
This time, I didn't shrink.
This time, I didn't care.
"Azrael."
The Duke's voice cut through the quiet.
The old Azrael would have jumped. I simply lifted my gaze, meeting his eyes without fear.
"Yes, Father?"
A flicker—brief, but noticeable—passed through his expression. Surprise. Margaret's fingers froze around her teacup.
"You will join Starlight Academy in 2 days from now " he said. "You are not to sully the Crimson name. Do you understand?"
Ah, yes. The usual warning. The reminder that, in their eyes, I was a potential embarrassment waiting to happen.
I set down my fork and wiped my mouth with calm, practiced ease.
"I understand," I said. "But you don't need to worry. I have no intention of disgracing our name."
The air stilled.
Margaret's head moved—just slightly—in my direction. The Duke's brows narrowed. The boy they remembered would have apologized by now or stuttered something incoherent.
But I am not that boy.
I am Azrael—and Xavier—merged into someone new.
I took another bite, unfazed. "Starlight Academy is an opportunity. I intend to use it."
"You intend?" the Duke repeated, as if testing the word on his tongue. "You've never shown such interest before."
"People change." I met his gaze steadily. "I changed."
Margaret's spoon slipped, the soft clink ringing louder than it should have. She actually looked at me, her eyes widening before she caught herself and looked away quickly.
Interesting.
The Duke leaned back, reassessing me like a merchant appraising a weapon he misjudged. "You speak with confidence. Unusual for you."
I shrugged lightly. "Living in fear doesn't benefit anyone."
Especially not someone who was supposed to die as a forgotten extra.
Margaret muttered under her breath, "Since when do you know that?"
For the first time, I didn't react.
I didn't recoil or shrink away.
I simply continued eating.
Her eyes widened again.
The Duke folded his arms. "If you truly wish to improve, prove it. Starlight Academy won't tolerate weakness. You will be crushed if you cannot keep up."
"Then I won't fall behind."
Bold words.
Words the old Azrael could never say.
"Is that confidence," the Duke asked softly, "or foolishness?"
"Neither," I replied. "It's certainty."
A tense silence settled between us. Margaret, for once, seemed unable to tear her gaze away from me. I didn't spare her even a glance.
"Azrael," the Duke said at last, tone sharpening, "do you understand the weight of your words?"
"Yes."
He waited.
"And I stand by them."
Something flickered in his eyes—approval? Curiosity? Wariness? I couldn't tell. Maybe all three.
"You lack discipline," the Duke said. "Your swordsmanship is poor. Your studies are inconsistent."
"That will change too." My voice didn't waver. "I'll work on it."
Margaret almost choked on her tea.
The Duke's expression hardened. "How do you plan on achieving this sudden transformation?"
I placed my fork down gently. "By relying on myself. By pushing myself. By not expecting anyone to guide me or acknowledge me."
The Duke's fork paused mid-air.
Margaret flinched as though struck.
"That is unlike you," the Duke said quietly.
"I'm aware."
He narrowed his eyes. "You speak like someone else entirely."
A small smile tugged at my lips. "Maybe I finally found who I'm supposed to be."
Margaret stared openly now. Shock. Confusion. Discomfort. I could feel her gaze burning holes through the side of my face.
I didn't turn toward her.
I didn't need her acknowledgment anymore.
"And Father," I added calmly, "if I make mistakes, I'll own them. If I succeed, I'll earn it. But I won't live in fear anymore."
The sound of utensils and quiet breathing filled the space that followed my declaration. The Duke watched me as though peering behind a mask.
"…Azrael," he said after a long pause, "whatever changed in you… do not lose it."
"I won't," I replied simply.
He nodded once—a gesture so small most would miss it.
That was the closest thing to approval I've ever received from him.
Margaret suddenly stood, her chair scraping loudly against the marble. "I—I'll be heading to the academy now."
Normally, the old Azrael would have jumped up, flustered and eager to move out of her way.
I didn't move.
I calmly took another bite of food.
Her steps faltered. Just for a moment.
Then she left, though I could feel her confusion trailing behind her like smoke.
After she disappeared, the Duke spoke again.
"You seem… resolute."
"I am."
"Good."
His tone softened—barely, but it was there. "The world will not go easy on you. Especially not Starlight Academy."
"I'm counting on that."
He huffed something between a scoff and a laugh. "We'll see."
I resumed eating in silence. The atmosphere felt different now—heavier, but lighter at the same time.
For the first time, I wasn't being stared at like a mistake.
For the first time, they didn't see a trembling shadow.
They saw someone else.
Someone new.
They saw me.
Azrael Crimson, reborn—not as a forgotten extra doomed to die, but as someone who would carve his own place in this world.
And this was only the beginning.