He... he really knew everything.
Azriel knew everything.
Hearing those words come from Azriel's mouth felt foreign, unreal, almost wrong.
But he had said them.
He really had.
"H-How...?" Lumine tried to keep his voice steady, but failed miserably.
Azriel, meanwhile, looked as relaxed as ever.
No—
bringing one leg closer, he rested his arm on it, then his head, and looked down at the lantern with a lonely smile.
"How, huh?" he murmured. "Unfortunately, we only have thirty minutes before they reach their destination and start causing mayhem. And telling you everything is impossible, since it's a rather long story. Nor am I really in the mood to open up more than I already have tonight."
Lumine pressed his lips together, about to speak, but Azriel beat him to it.
"But what I can tell you... is that I am the Apostle of Death."
"...Huh?"
Lumine's mind froze.
Then, a second later, it jolted back to life, and his eyes began to tremble.
"No way..."
