The only sound in the room was the relentless ticking of the clock on the wall.
Joaquin sat in the chair behind his desk, eyes closed, his expression unreadable.
A gentle breeze drifted through the open window, making his obsidian hair, which fell to his shoulders, flutter.
As the clock ticked again, his phone buzzed.
Opening his eyes, they revealed deep, pitch-black orbs that seemed to absorb all light, like endless voids.
He glanced at his phone on the desk and checked the time:
00:00.
"Another year gone by just like that..." he murmured.
Azriel Crimson, his son's birthday had officially passed.
It was the only day his daughter, who had become distant and cold, would come home from the academy, refraining from training until she collapsed from exhaustion.
It made Joaquin's heart tremble. The mood in the Crimson Estate was at its worst, everyone preferring to be left alone, even his wife.
The hole in his heart ached more as he recalled his last moments with his son.
Azriel's aloof expression, without a single worry, as he watched the void rifts appear and Joaquin battle the harrowing creatures emerging from them.
Confident that his father would triumph against the waves of abominations. Joaquin never really understood what his son was thinking.
Azriel never tried his best, yet he never slacked off. He tried to hide his talents as much as he could, always skipping lessons to sleep.
Yet, Joaquin remembered how Azriel trained alone at night when everyone was supposed to be asleep.
His crimson eyes always had a fire that couldn't be extinguished when he was training, driven by something that made him swing his sword relentlessly.
"I failed you as a father, my son..." Joaquin's voice was hoarse.
He didn't understand why Azriel never ran away.
He was always watching his son, making sure no harm befell him.
Almost always...
'If only not for that one second...'
That was all it took. A single second when multiple abyssal-ranked creatures attacked, demanding his entire attention.
In that exact moment...
Azriel was gone. Nowhere to be found.
Panic turned to fury as he thought the worst. He screamed Azriel's name, his voice raw and desperate, tearing through the battlefield.
He searched everywhere, ripping open the stomachs of every void creature he encountered, tearing out their intestines, frantically hunting for any sign of him.
Yet...
He never found him.
Ever since that day, he had never forgiven himself. His daughter had become cold-hearted, shutting everyone away and training to become stronger.
He could only comfort his wife as she did the same for him, mourning their son, who was presumed dead.
The Crimson Clan might have looked like an unbreakable wall from the outside, but in reality, they were broken from the inside.
Joaquin didn't even try to fix things, focusing only on his work instead. Even then, he never announced Azriel's death to the public.
He couldn't.
Not because of the consequences, but...
"He is not dead..."
Joaquin refused to believe that someone like his son had really died. There was no way his son would have fallen.
Standing up, he slowly walked to the open window and gazed at the full moon.
"...Beautiful."
The moon was simply beautiful tonight. If only it weren't for those dreadful creatures residing on its surface.
Joaquin's voice trembled slightly as he spoke again, his gaze fixed on the white moon.
"You have the Crimson blood running through your veins, Azriel."
"...Dying was never an option."
The wind howled, making his hair flutter wildly. Joaquin clenched his fist tightly until blood dripped onto the wooden floor.
"So where the hell are you?"
*****
'Thanks!? Who the hell says just thanks! Argh, I want to die... Wait, no, I will just come back! Dammit, I want to die twice! No, thrice, I already died twice! What the hell am I even saying!?'
Inwardly, Azriel was a mess as he gazed at the soldiers expressionlessly. He wanted to bury himself in a hole and never leave.
Though for some reason, just giving them a small smile and thanking them was enough for each one of them to have their eyes sparkling.
'Ugh, how simple. It makes me feel bad for just saying thanks.'
"Prince Azriel, I apologize for not recognizing you earlier," the instructor suddenly spoke, bowing his head, followed by the others.
'They sure respect me a lot more than I thought... Even though each one of them could easily beat me up.'
Though he was glad at how respectful the soldiers in front of him were.
"You don't need to bow your heads. I am honestly impressed by how dedicated all of you are, training this late in such a dangerous country without any fear," Azriel praised them.
He could see their eyes sparkling even more as the cautious looks he was receiving from some of them lessened considerably.
'Glad I still remember those lessons in buttering people up...'
"It's only natural for us to be in top form when we could be battling any second," the instructor said as Azriel broke out a small smile, nodding toward him.
"That is true indeed..."
Acknowledging what the instructor had just said, he was about to end the conversation, unsure what more he could talk to them about, and go to the building where he was supposed to meet up with Solomon and Ragnar.
However, one of the soldiers hesitantly spoke up.
"Prince Azriel, if it doesn't offend you, may I ask you a question? Ah, of course, you don't need to answer if you are uncomfortable or anything like that!"
The soldier spoke hurriedly, trying to convince Azriel, which only made him try to suppress his lips from twitching.
'Stop acting so scared, dammit...'
"Sure, as long as I am able to answer."
"T-thank you..."
Taking a deep breath, the soldier spoke, "There has been a rumor for the past two years that you have been... well, dead. And seeing you now with your..."
The soldier tried to find the right words as he glanced at Azriel's long hair.
'So I'm not officially dead, huh? Only a rumor, meaning they have been suppressing information about me for the time being,' Azriel thought about the information he received before answering his question.
"My long hair? Doesn't suit me, right? Well, there wasn't really a barber in the void realm or anything similar like that."
The moment he spoke those words, everyone's eyes widened.
The instructor spoke up this time, "So the rumors are true... that you have been in the void realm for the past two years."
'Rumors must have gone around for the higher ranks, I suppose...'
As Azriel was about to speak again, a voice came from behind him suddenly.
"Here I thought I would wake you up, only to find an empty room, thinking you had gone back to the void realm as if those two years weren't enough. Man, you must have gotten homesick while missing those beautiful animals there."
Turning around, Azriel saw Solomon walking toward him, not just him, as next to him, he could see...
'Ragnar...'
Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!
Stopping a little distance ahead of him, Solomon looked at Azriel with the same mischievous eyes he always had.
Ragnar, on the other hand, didn't spare a single glance at him as his ice-blue eyes swept through the training ground.
The moment the soldiers met Ragnar's gaze, it felt like a cold bucket of water had been poured over them, snapping them out of their shock.
"I greet Lord Ragnar and Saint Solomon!"
All the soldiers straightened their backs, hitting their right fists against their chests before bowing their heads down.
'Did I just hear someone's bone crack?'
As Azriel thought this, Ragnar's voice cut through the air, sending shivers down his spine.
"Leave. Now."
The moment he spoke those words, the soldiers broke into a run, hurriedly clearing the training ground, leaving only Azriel, Ragnar, and Solomon, who watched everything with an amused smile.
The air around them grew awkward as Ragnar finally looked at Azriel without saying anything, his expression unreadable.
'The hell is this...'
Unable to bear the atmosphere any longer, Azriel gazed straight into Ragnar's eyes, trying to smile.
"You look like you've seen a ghost, Uncle Ragnar."
He tried to lighten the mood, but Ragnar's intense stare felt like he was peering into Azriel's soul.
'Was the joke too soon?'
Sensing the tension, Solomon chuckled and spoke up.
"See! Told you he's become much livelier."
Ragnar hummed in response to Solomon as he suddenly walked closer to Azriel, making him tense up.
'Solomon convinced him that I'm not a skinwalker, right?'
Panicking inwardly at the thought that Solomon might have failed to convince Ragnar, Azriel was prepared to make a run for it—if that would have even worked.
But then...
'Huh?'
Azriel exclaimed, bewildered, as Ragnar suddenly placed both hands on his shoulders.
"It really is you, huh? To think you were actually alive all this time," Ragnar said softly, with a small smile on his face as he gazed at Azriel.
"Yeah..."
That was all Azriel could manage to say at the sudden turn of events.
He sighed with relief, realizing his fears were unfounded.
"Dying like that would have been too boring for someone like him anyway," Solomon chimed in from behind.
Ignoring Solomon's words, Ragnar spoke to Azriel again as he turned around and started walking away.
"Come. We should go somewhere more comfortable since we have a lot to talk about."
******
Azriel sat behind a table, gazing questioningly at the plate filled with rice and fried chicken in front of him. Ragnar and Solomon were sitting on the other sides of the table, looking at him.
"I thought you must be hungry after everything that happened, so I asked them to prepare something. Unfortunately, there wasn't really anything better to serve here," Ragnar said, dispelling Azriel's slight confusion.
'Anything better?'
Azriel thought as he tried not to drool.
He hadn't realized how hungry he actually was after everything that had happened.
Not only that, he couldn't even remember the last time he had eaten something properly in his previous life since his family had died.
"You don't need to worry, Uncle Ragnar. This is plenty."
Saying that, he took the spoon and tasted a bit of the dish.
"Delicious..."
It was honestly perhaps the tastiest food he had ever eaten in his life. The food assaulted his taste buds, making his eyes almost tear up.
'Haha, and here I always used to complain to Mom for making something so simple...'
Azriel thought bitterly, recalling memories from his previous life, how he used to fight with his mom about eating rice and chicken.
'I really was an ungrateful brat to them...'
"Personally, I prefer the juicy meat of those void creatures, especially after you grill them. Gods! Azriel, have you ever tasted a dark basilisk? You would die eating them—figuratively and literally!" Solomon exclaimed excitedly, as Ragnar glared at him, annoyed.
"Haha, I haven't had the chance to encounter a dark basilisk yet, though I'm not sure if I'm really eager to either," Azriel said nervously with a chuckle.
'I swear, his brain needs to be researched.'
'Though I have [Redo], so I could technically eat them even if I die.'
Azriel shook his head to dispel the weird ideas he was starting to get because of Solomon and continued munching on his food happily.
Before he even knew it, Azriel was done eating, feeling slightly disappointed.
"You want more?" Ragnar asked, noticing his expression, but Azriel shook his head.
"There is no need. This was plenty."
Ragnar hummed as he leaned back in his chair, while Solomon sipped a glass of wine that he seemingly produced from nowhere. His eyes were closed, his usual serene smile on his peaceful face.
'I swear, the way he acts so carefree makes me forget that he is an actual saint.'
Sighing, Azriel decided to ask the question he knew everyone was waiting for him to voice.
"How are they... my family, I mean?"
The moment he spoke, Solomon opened his eyes, his expression turning sour.
"Suffocating. What else?" Solomon said bitterly, making Azriel confused. Luckily, Ragnar elaborated.
"They're all doing fine, at least physically. But being in the Crimson Estate just feels suffocating ever since you... died."
"Your sister has barely left the academy and spends all her time training until she collapses. Your father distracts himself with work, blaming himself for your death, thinking he failed you as a father."
"As for your mother... she barely leaves her room unless she's eating with Joaquin."
Azriel's heart ached hearing about the state of his family, the damage his death had caused.
'And there's no way to contact them right now...'
"Well, it shows just how much they actually cared for you," Solomon said, trying to cheer him up.
Azriel just shook his head and responded, his voice bitter.
"...I am unworthy of their love."
Not just theirs, but also that of his previous family as Leo Karumi. What had he really done to make any of his families proud?
Nothing.
"That doesn't matter," Ragnar suddenly spoke up, his voice becoming stern.
"Whether you think you are worthy or not of their love doesn't change the fact that they love you. Trust me, no matter what you do, your parents will always love you. I would know since I am a parent myself, after all."
"I mean, look at Celestina, my little princess—"
"Alright, alright! Please stop talking. I don't want to sit here listening to you ramble about your daughter for five hours straight again!" Solomon suddenly shouted, glaring at Ragnar, who coughed and looked away awkwardly.
"Right, I got sidetracked. Apologies."
Seeing their banter, Azriel's mood lifted a little as he tried to suppress a chuckle.
'They are certainly close.'
'But Celestina Frost, huh...'
He obviously knew who she was.
Celestina Frost was, after all, one of the main characters who was part of the protagonist's harem, just like his sister.
He only had his knowledge from the book since, as the previous Azriel, the most he did was exchange small greetings with her when he attended a banquet or something similar.
'Honestly, out of all the heroines, I liked her the most...'
She was probably, apart from Jasmine, the strongest heroine in the protagonist's harem. She was strong, smart, useful, and...
'Extremely beautiful,' Azriel thought, recalling the few times he had met her.
"Oh right! I totally forgot, since you decided to be the gift itself," Solomon suddenly said, making Ragnar and Azriel look at him confused.
'Gift itself?'
"It's already 00:48 as well, damn," Solomon added.
"What are you talking about?" Ragnar asked. Solomon chuckled before responding.
"Ha! Glad to see I'm not the only one who forgot. Have you forgotten what day just passed?"
The moment he said that, Ragnar's eyes widened, his usual unreadable face riddled with shock before it returned to normal.
A sigh escaped his lips.
"Of course I would forget as well..."
Solomon turned towards Azriel, meeting his eyes directly.
"Happy late birthday, Azriel," he said with a big smile.
"Mm, happy birthday. Sorry that we forgot," Ragnar also added.
Azriel kept blinking at them for a few seconds before he finally spoke...
"My what now?"
Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!
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