┏━━━━━━⚠ CONTENT WARNING ⚠━━━━━━┓
This chapter contains a brief mention of minor animal mistreatment.
It is not graphic, but may be upsetting to sensitive readers.
Please proceed with caution.
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Inside the dimly lit chamber, golden candlelight flickered softly, casting long shadows across the stone walls. A soft purring broke the silence.
"You really think you can win, little one?" Damien tilted his head, eyes glowing faintly as he crouched before the small orange-striped tiger cub and the older calico cat. His tone was almost sweet—almost.
The tiger cub blinked, visibly shivering. The cat beside him trembled too, her ears pressed flat against her head, tail curled defensively around her trembling legs.
Behind Damien stood two men, clad from head to toe in inky-black uniforms. Their faces were obscured by polished black helmets, and they hadn't spoken a word the entire time.
Damien leaned closer to the cat, voice as smooth as silk—and twice as sharp.
"If you lose to this cub... Let's say your two little kittens over there will be in danger ."
He gestured casually to the small cage nearby, where three mewling kittens were huddled together, their cries faint.
The cat's body convulsed with fear. Her pupils thinned to slits.
"Oh? You say you'd rather die in their place?" Damien laughed softly, the sound chilling in its calmness. "That wouldn't be fun at all. No, no... the stakes must mean something. Your life wouldn't be enough."
Apparently, Damien could talk to animals—a gift many believed was one of the blessings of divinity.
He rose, "Besides, have some pride. You're a full-grown feline, and you're hesitating against a months-old baby tiger?"
He turned his gaze to the cub, who had begun to tremble just as much. Damien clicked his tongue.
"Hmph. Whatever. Two creatures of the same species, same size—isn't that interesting. Just a bit of an experience difference. But the world is unfair like that, so it can't be helped."
He clapped once, the sound loud in the silence.
"Let the fight begin."
---
We saw a familiar face waiting for us in the distance—the High Priest.
"Welcome, Lord Valette," the High Priest bowed slightly, then turned his eyes to me. "I normally serve here with the Oracle when it's not the praying hour."
He smiled. Too wide.
He looked at me. "She is truly graceful. What a lucky father you are. She is bound to become an exemplary noble lady."
Father gave his usual diplomat's smile. "You flatter me, Your Eminence."
The priest turned to a passing servant. "Summon the Oracle to the Azure Sun Parlor. Tell him it's a direct request."
The servant bowed and disappeared down a hall.
Meanwhile, the High Priest guided us through the winding halls, speaking in that honeyed tone priests always seemed to have.
"There couldn't be a better choice than House Valette for this connection. You see, the Oracle may be spiritually ancient, but physically, he is still a child. His mind mirrors that of one too. And his purity... it would only match that of another child."
I blinked slowly.
So let me get this straight... this old geezer expects me—a ten-year-old—to befriend someone who's mentally ancient? Just how old is he? Good thing I have the mind of an adult. But they don't know that. And who thinks it's a good idea to pair a kiddo with ancient beings as friends?
This old priest is creepy.
---
Splashes of crimson stains painted the stone beneath his feet , Damien stood there, eyes wide, lips slightly parted.
"They gone just like that?" he murmured. "But I wasn't done yet..."
His eyes flicked back to the small , still figures of the kittens bathing in a haunting shade of crimson . "Oh well. I can just bring them back."
Before he could raise his hand, the injured cat lunged at him with a strangled hiss. Damien didn't flinch. He merely raised his hand, palm facing her.
"Stop."
The word was quiet, but his eyes carried the weight of something ancient and dreadful. The cat froze mid-pounce, trembling again.
"Coward till the end, huh!" said Damien.
Before he could speak again—
KNOCK KNOCK.
He clicked his tongue, irritated. "Who is it?"
A voice answered from behind the door. "It's me, Serfin. I apologize for interrupting your... prayer session to Goddess Seraphina, but the High Priest has summoned you urgently."
Damien sighed, pulling a fine white handkerchief from his pocket. He stepped over the bloodied bodies without so much as a glance, wiping the crimson droplets from his cheek and fingers.
The cat darted toward the cage, frantically checking for any breath left in her children.
Damien gave a lazy signal to the guards. Without a word, they dissolved into shadows, vanishing with the bodies and witnesses.
With a flick of his wrist, the blood on the floor and any on his clothes vanished, leaving no trace.
He opened the door.
Serfin, the servant, bowed low. "My deepest apologies, my lord. But it is urgent. The High Priest has requested your presence in the Azure Sun Parlor. House Valette has arrived and they demand your presence."
Damien raised one brow. "But I don't remember having to meet any noble today as per schedule?"
Serfin replied, "Well, this is what I overheard from their conversation, but take it with a grain of salt. The High Priest apparently chose the youngest daughter of House Valette to accompany you as a friend."
Damien's jaw clenched—but only briefly.
That old sly fox... Didn't even bother telling me beforehand. Using me like some diplomatic tool to tie the temple with House Valette... I'm going to give him a piece of my mind later.
Tsk.
"Are you angry, my lord?" Serfin asked, cautiously.
Damien's expression shifted into a serene smile.
"Angry? Of course not. How could I be? The holy High Priest has arranged this meeting out of goodwill, without me needing to utter a single word. How fortunate I am."
His smile sharpened just slightly at the edges.
How could someone like him exist in this tainted world? thought the servant.
Every step, every word—it was as though light itself bent around him in reverence.
He is no mere child. He is a blessing. A celestial being wrapped in flesh. And I... I am just grateful to have been born in the same timeline as this angel.
"As usual, thank you for your services, Surfing!"
"...my name's Serfin."
---
The corridor was long and silent as he strode through it, jaw tight, eyes like cold glass. He didn't even attempt to hide the irritation brimming beneath his skin.
Reaching his quarters, he entered swiftly and began changing out of his stained clothes, the silken buttons of his shirt coming undone one by one under pale fingers.
Then—
Click.
The door creaked open. Someone stepped in.
Damien's brows twitched downward.
The person froze—and immediately stepped back. It appeared to be the knight—Cedric.
"I-I'm sorry!" came the flustered voice. "I'll wait outside—"
Damien grabbed Cedric's wrist before he could vanish like a guilty shadow.
"You didn't knock." His voice was calm, low, but carried a subtle undertone that chilled the air. "You always knock. Which means something's on your mind."
Cedric didn't turn to face him. "I was just... thinking. If the Crown Prince is bothering you, or doing something despicable, you can tell me. I shall—"
"You shall what?" Damien's smile curled lazily. "Kill him?"
Cedric stiffened.
Damien chuckled. "Don't joke like that. He's the Crown Prince of the Empire. You really think a mere knight like you could even scratch him?"
The knight finally turned, eyes burning with quiet resolve.
"Of course. If you command it... just say the word."
Damien was startled by this declaration.
Then, slowly, he stepped forward and placed a slender finger on the knight's lips.
"Saying that out loud, are we? Are you trying to get yourself killed?"
The knight's breath hitched.
Damien withdrew his hand and tossed his shirt aside. "As for the Crown Prince... he's not doing anything despicable."
He paused and murmured, "Otherwise, he would be dead by now."
Cedric asked, "I couldn't hear you."
His voice dipped into a drawl, lips quirking. "He is just a good friend of mine. It's kind of cute, actually."
Cedric looked down, jaw tight with silent frustration.
Damien noticed.
He smirked.
"But of course, no one could ever take your place."
He leaned in and pressed a light kiss to Cedric's cheek.
"Now. Would you mind helping me choose my outfit? I'm meeting a noble today."
---
Moments Later
Dressed in a high-collared navy coat lined with silver embroidery, Damien walked with his usual air of composed grace, hands crossed behind. The knight trailed slightly behind, expression unreadable.
As they turned the corner of the palace's east wing, a servant stumbled into them, nearly falling flat in front of Damien.
"M-My apologies!" the servant stammered, holding out a meticulously arranged bouquet of white tulips and blue lilies. "This... is from the Crown Prince." He handed it over to Damien.
Damien's gaze dropped to the bouquet.
Then narrowed.
Without hesitation, he handed the flowers right back to the servant, disgusted.
He didn't wait for a response.
---
I was walking beside Father and the High Priest again. The halls were sparkling, the ceilings disgustingly high, and everything smelled like some kind of expensive candle. At one point, I thought it was more magnificent than where we live.
We were still talking—or rather, they were talking and I was just nodding politely.
That's when it happened.
From the opposite side of the hallway, I saw him. Again.
Damien.
He looked our way.
And when his eyes landed on me—
I stepped forward, performed the perfect noble curtsy, and greeted him with practiced grace.
"It's an honor to finally meet you, Sir Damien."
...
The silence still echoes down the hall.
Normally it would be, "Thank you, myself blah blah"—wouldn't it be? So why am I met with
Silence?
I looked up to see if he got a seizure or something, but he was just standing there... staring at me.
Expression unreadable.
I couldn't quite understand the meaning behind the silence and the staring, but I am certainly not liking this at all.
At that moment, Damien was thinking:
"I hate her."