"It’s been a long ti since we’ve last seen each other..."
"...Yes."
In a pristine, extravagant room, a man with sharp features, golden hair, and eyes that glead like molten tal sat across from a young woman who shared the sa striking traits.
His gaze was cold, unflinching, while hers stayed lowered, fixed on the cup in her hands.
"How have you been?" he asked.
"..."
"I understand your frustrations toward , but there are limits to tolerance, Rose."
"..."
"First you ignore my calls, then my letters, and even refuse to return to the dukedom during academy breaks. Is this your way of rebelling?" A faint, humorless smile touched his lips. "How laughable."
With each word, the atmosphere grew heavier.
The servants standing at the edges of the room—motionless, silent, yet tense—felt the chill in the air.
It was too sharp, too suffocating for this to be a simple conversation between father and daughter.
"What do you want?" Rose finally spoke, her voice calm, though her eyes stayed on her teacup. She didn’t bother to look at him.
Raymond was not the type to be ruffled by small acts of defiance, nor did he normally react to provocation. But watching Rose’s deliberate indifference—it struck him, if only slightly.
"...Rose," his tone dropped, cold as steel, "perhaps you need a reminder of who provides the privileges you enjoy. Without the prestige, the grace, and the honor of the Brilliance na etched onto you... do you truly believe you could walk the path you’re on today?"
"My path is my own, Duke... And need I remind you what my existence ans to the Brilliance family?"
The duke’s jaw tightened.
With every word Rose spoke, his frustration only grew.
She never raised her voice, yet the weight behind her words pressed on him more than any shout could.
Though he and Rose were far from what anyone would call a close father and daughter, he still believed—no, he was convinced—that there was a bond between them.
A bond built not on warmth, but on expectation, discipline, and the vision he had set for her.
He had raised her, guided her, shaped her into the heir of the Brilliance na.
Every privilege she enjoyed, every tool, every opportunity, had been carved out of his own wealth and influence.
At least... that’s what he told himself.
But even as those thoughts passed through his mind, he could not deny the truth.
Rose was not ordinary.
She was not even exceptional.
She was beyond that.
A once-in-an-era genius whose talent burned brighter than the rest.
Her knowledge and mastery of magic had already reached heights where she could stand among the giants of the magical world.
It wasn’t the Brilliance na that carried Rose forward. It was Rose who carried the Brilliance na on her back. The family’s relevance, its pride, its survival—all of it tied to her.
And yet...
Even if she hated him, even if she spat his title in disdain rather than called him "Father," there were still lines. There were still rules, respect, and boundaries she was not allowed to forget.
"...Rose," the duke finally said, his golden eyes narrowing. "Do not mistake your worth as freedom from duty. Genius or not, you remain my daughter—and with that cos obligations you cannot cast aside."
"I believe my obligations were already cut in our last conversation..."
The duke’s eyes narrowed. "Our conversation last ti was nothing more than a slip of tongue. Emotions ran wild, there’s no need to—"
"Ha..." Rose let out a faint laugh, low and sharp. "Looks like ignorance and indifference truly define who you are, Duke."
His gaze sharpened. "What do you an?"
"Your colors remain dull even after all this ti. The mont you hid the other half of your light was the mont you should’ve known sothing like this would co."
"I don’t know what you’re talking about—"
"Dorothy."
The na dropped like a stone into still water.
"..."
"My elder sister," Rose continued, her voice calm but laced with a quiet blade. "Tell , Duke. What exactly did my late elder sister an to you?"
The duke’s lips pressed into a thin line. Silence stretched, heavy enough to smother the room. Finally, he spoke.
".....You are my only daughter, Rose."
The sa pathetic response. The sa escape. Just like last ti. Rose’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
She had co here willingly, not out of longing, but out of curiosity.
To see what her so-called father had been plotting all these months.
To see if the man who claid the Brilliance na could change, even in the smallest way, after the storm of their last argunt.
But no.
No change. No growth. Just the sa hollow words.
Her grip on the teacup tightened, though her expression remained still, cold.
For all the thins he did to Dorothy for the thing he made herself do to her, their should;ve been a feeling of remorse in the least.
Slowly, Rose pushed her chair back and stood.
"Where are you going?" the duke demanded.
"..."
She didn’t answer. Instead, mana swirled around her like a storm waiting to be unleashed.
Red-blue starlight shimred across the floor, magic circles spinning into existence beneath her feet, their glow painting the pristine walls with otherworldly light.
"Wait, Rose, our conversation isn’t over yet!"
The duke rose abruptly, his hand shooting out to grab her wrist. His grip was firm, commanding.
"Rose, this is an order. If you still wish to carry my na, then—"
"Don’t worry..." Her eyes flicked to him, cold and sharp as glass. "Soon your na etched onto will be gone... and replaced in due ti."
The duke’s golden eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to ice. "Rose...!"
But her expression didn’t waver. She stared at him coolly, like he was nothing more than an obstacle she’d already decided to remove from her path.
[Teleportation]
Then, in a burst of starlight, she vanished.
The shimring glow scattered in the air, fading into silence as if she had never been there at all.
Clicking his tongue, the duke let go of the empty air where her wrist had been.
Frustration burned in his chest, but he forced himself back into the sofa, pushing his golden hair away from his face with a hand before adjusting his glasses.
His eyes narrowed to slits.
’She’s serious...’
His thoughts spun.
He had raised her, prepared her, controlled her for years—but this... this defiance, this distance, this sharpness—it wasn’t natural. It wasn’t born on its own.
It began with that boy.
Riley Hell.
Even if he lacked concrete evidence, the signs were all there.
The subtle changes in Rose’s behavior.
The uncharacteristic ways she had acted during the past months.
Strange reports whispered back from his spies at the academy.
And most of all—the absurd, unprompted engagent announcent.
Pieces that didn’t fit. Anomalies he couldn’t ignore.
His golden eyes glead behind the glasses as he whispered, low and cold:
"Riley Hell..."
No matter the cost, he would have a word with that man.
....
"Haha, that Cristo kid sure was interesting, wasn’t he?"
"...In a sense, yes."
"Kuku, I guess that’s only to be expected from a fellow countryman. He looked cute and innocent, but who knew he could pack such a punch? Well... in his case, it’d be how sharp his daggers were. Even I couldn’t react properly to one of them." Kagami smirked, crossing his arms. "Though I was holding back a lot, it was still impressive. Hahahah."
His laugh rang out, confident as always, but I could tell from the look in his eyes there was a pinch of annoyance buried under all that pride.
Right now, the two of us were sitting on the bench by the hidden training grounds.
The air still carried the faint echo of clashing steel, though the fight had ended quickly.
Kagami didn’t even have a scratch on him, his clothes as spotless as when he’d first walked in.
Cristo had left a few minutes earlier, so now it was just and Kagami.
"Cristo..." I muttered, leaning back. "He didn’t really resemble soone from the Eastern Empire."
"From what I’ve heard," Kagami replied, resting his chin on his hand, "he’s half. His mother was from the Eastern Empire, but his father is from the Del-Luna Kingdom. He inherited most of his father’s looks and, of course, the na. But in his heart? That kid feels more Eastern than most Easterners I’ve t."
Well, that information was new.
The ga hadn’t exactly delved into the backstories of most side characters—let alone soone almost NPC-like, like Cristo.
Now I understood why he carried a certain uniqueness in his look, a subtle... offbeat presence that set him apart from the rest.
Although we hadn’t talked much—he tried, nervously, to avoid proper conversation when I arrived—I could tell from the way he subtly moderated his words and timing that there was sothing in his speech.
A faint accent, barely noticeable if you didn’t listen closely... not that it mattered much in the end.
All in all, he was what I expected him to be.
Solid, competent, alert—but unfortunately, I hadn’t had enough ti to fully assess his essence.
Still, it was clear enough: as far as I could tell, he hadn’t been influenced by any demonic forces... yet.
That didn’t an it wasn’t there.
For all I knew, Demon King Asmodeus’ authority over concealnt could be hiding it from .
And also...
There was sothing about his essence that felt restrained, tied down, like a power that refused to fully surface.
I wanted to eliminate dangerous variables as early as possible, strike before they beca a threat. But... it seed I’d have to wait. For now.
"Hey, bud, you’re not busy yet, right? Since you interrupted my ever-so-fun training, you wouldn’t mind training with for a bit, right?"
Kagami suddenly said, rising to his feet, clenching his fists in front of .
As always, he looked almost demonic—muscles coiled and taut, his dark aura swirling subtly, the scar on his face giving him an edge that made him look even more dangerous.
I smirked subtly at his words. "Sure... but if you don’t land a hit on again, you’ll have to introduce to your sister."
"That’s not a funny joke, bud..." he muttered, though his eyes flickered with a strange intensity.
"It’s not, though... that’s why you have to try your best, okay?"
For the first ti, I saw Kagami truly focused on trying to beat —or maybe "kill intent" was the more accurate term.
Every muscle, every movent, every glint in his eyes scread that this wasn’t play.
...
anwhile, back at Hajey’s shared dorm room, Cristo returned quietly.
"You’re back..." Hajey said, his voice calm, almost detached, as he sat lightly on the open sofa. He had crossed his legs in front of a small table, where a chess ga was already set up, pieces mid-play, frozen in silent strategy.
Cristo’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, though the tension from before still lingered. The room slled faintly of parchnt and polish, a quiet contrast to the chaos outside.
"So... did you manage to find so information regarding your target?"
"...Ah... yes."
"What’s with the long pause?"
"No, it’s nothing. Haha... you see, as embarrassing as it is, I haven’t really gotten much useful information. Most of it is just the other students around ... there weren’t many academy students nearby for to gather anything substantial."
Hajey nodded slowly. "That’s understandable. The guy seems too enigmatic, despite his very public presence and prestige. But still... I want to hear it. Different perspectives are valuable. Information is information, no matter how small."
Cristo hesitated. "But... they’re mostly gossip, though."
"It doesn’t matter. We need everything we can get—anything that can reveal a weakness, or at least sothing that can restrain him for a mont so we can proceed with our mission."
Cristo let out a light, internal sigh.
"Alright..."
He took a deep breath, preparing to relay every small detail he’d gathered. He clenched his fists lightly, pressing them near his chest.
Thump...!
Relaying information should have been easy for soone like him—a trained informant, a secret spy. Every detail cataloged and ready.
Thump...!
Yet no matter how many tis he practiced, the nervousness gnawed at him. His heart wouldn’t stop thumping as he recalled the mont Riley had saved him.
Those piercing blue eyes—looking down at him with that strange, apathetic gentleness.
The golden hair glinting in the light. The sharp, handso features.
Every detail from that instant burned itself into his mory, perfect and untouchable.
"He... he is really handso..."
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