"There are some things I still don't understand, sister-in-law," Ravel asked, pausing mid-sip of her hot chocolate, her curiosity piqued. "Why are you so devoted to my brother?"
Ravel's gaze narrowed, wanting to pry deeper into her brother's relationship with Le Fay Pendragon.
But beneath that curiosity was an even greater desire to understand why Le Fay had committed herself to Riser despite everything—especially the moral conflict that gnawed at her.
Ravel knew well how humans, with their deeply ingrained sense of morality, often found incest utterly repulsive.
And yet, here was Le Fay, who had not only accepted Riser's actions but had seemingly devoted herself to him without hesitation.
Ravel couldn't reconcile it.
From the books she'd read, most love came from a mutual understanding between two people. A love forged in knowing each other deeply—truly understanding the other, flaws and all.
Such love, Ravel had been told, would naturally lead to a deeper happiness and fulfillment in a relationship.
So why hadn't Le Fay walked away from Riser? Why didn't she leave him after seeing what he was capable of?
"Isn't it obvious? I love him. Is that reason enough, Ravel?" Le Fay replied, her tone soft and assured as she took a graceful sip of her hot chocolate. "And you… you love him too, don't you? That's why you're so devoted to him as well."
Ravel's eyes hardened, her voice demanding more. "I have my reasons, yes. But I want to understand yours. Why? What is it about my brother that made you stay, despite everything?"
Le Fay smiled, a small, wistful smile tinged with nostalgia. "He's a gentleman, charming, and has a wonderful sense of humor. At first, that's all I saw in him. Just like any young maiden, I was drawn to the handsome boy with a good personality and likable traits. But then, there was his devotion to his art. I admired that too. Even after being rejected twice, he didn't give up on his dream. There's a fire in his eyes that never died. That determination—that passion—that's what made me fall for him."
Ravel blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting such a response.
"My brother is an artist?" she asked incredulously, trying to process the idea.
Le Fay nodded confidently. "Yes, he is. He paints."
Ravel was silent for a moment, her mind trying to reconcile this new image of her brother.
A painter?
She couldn't picture it. Her brother, the proud and ruthless Riser, an artist?
It didn't seem to fit.
"Then what?" Ravel pressed, her skepticism still evident. "You loved him because you saw him as some kind of Prince Charming. But now that you've seen the truth—that he isn't—why do you stay? What's keeping you by his side?"
Le Fay's face softened, a trace of bitterness creeping into her voice. "I don't even understand it myself. Yes, Riser is a reclusive man. He may seem close to me at times, but there's a distance—a secrecy that I can never fully bridge. I don't know him completely, not as a person, not as a whole. And yet… I still love him. I still stay. It's strange, isn't it?"
Perhaps it was odd in the eyes of teenagers or those who had never delved deeply into the complexities of love and human psychology.
But for someone who studied psychology on a profound level, it became abundantly clear where Le Fay's devotion originated when one looked at this story with greater scrutiny and depth.
People tend to believe in those who believe in themselves—those who project an unwavering confidence in their destiny for greatness.
Even if such confidence stemmed from nothing more than a delusion of grandeur, if that delusion was reinforced by genuine strength, achievements, and the boldness to back it up, people would willingly invest their trust and loyalty.
There was no need for these individuals to know the man in the excruciating details, to understand his personal struggles, his fears, or the intricacies of his personality. They saw only his abilities, his potential, and the towering image of someone who could carry their hopes and aspirations.
This dynamic was equally true for Le Fay's relationship with Riser.
She knew next to nothing about him. His past was a mystery to her; his moments of bitterness, his personal grievances, and the raw core of his individuality were all things she never truly grasped.
Yet, despite this, she adored him. She followed him, devoted herself to him with a fervor that some might find baffling.
What captivated Le Fay was Riser's unwavering self-assurance, his unshakable belief that he was destined for greatness.
It was his charm, his almost intoxicating self-confidence, and his exaggerated sense of self-worth that drew her to him like a moth to a flame.
But it wasn't just his charisma that bound her to him.
Over the course of two years in Vienna, the two of them shared a connection that transcended words or pasts. Le Fay had been by his side through his modest life, and he had been there for her in return.
During those years, they cultivated an unspoken understanding of one another. Together, they painted, shared jokes, exchanged conversations that ranged from trivial to profound, and occasionally went out on small, unassuming dates.
For Le Fay, those two years were the happiest of her life. She had always been crushed under the weight of heavy expectations placed upon her by everyone she encountered.
Yet, with Riser—a man who had exiled himself from his family and their suffocating expectations—she found solace.
She could speak freely, unencumbered by the societal pressures of her name, her achievements, or the value others assigned to her.
For once, she wasn't Le Fay, the prodigy burdened by duty and obligation.
She was simply a girl—free, unrestrained, and liberated from the chains of expectation.
Only with Riser did she feel truly happy and unburdened. Together, they indulged in the simplicity of life, never prying into each other's pasts or digging into the depths of their individuality.
They existed in the present, savoring the moments of peace and understanding they had carved out for themselves.
Had Riser not been rejected twice by the Art Academy, their blissful life might have continued uninterrupted.
In this imagined future, Riser would have pursued his dream of becoming the greatest artist, and she would have been by his side as his wife, sharing in the serenity of their self-imposed isolation.
But life does not cater to "what-ifs." Le Fay had even considered hypnotizing the instructors responsible for his rejection, ensuring he passed the examination, but she knew better. Such an act would be nothing more than a hollow illusion, a self-deception that Riser would never accept.
If Riser had wanted to pass the examination through such means, he could have easily used his own powers to manipulate the outcome.
Why would he need her to do it for him?
Le Fay sighed, her gaze distant, her thoughts heavy as she sipped her hot chocolate once more.
Now, there is no turning back.
The Underworld needed Riser, and his deep, unyielding love for his kind drove him to participate in a war that was never meant to be his fight. Yet, for the sake of his race, for his unwavering sense of duty, and for the belief he held toward his homeland, he was willing to sacrifice everything.
He is even prepared to strike a deal with Rizevim Lucifer—a choice many would consider abhorrent—if it means tilting the odds in their favor in this grueling, unforgiving conflict that relentlessly bears down upon them. His conviction, his pride, and his profound love for his race propel him forward, each one adding weight to the chains of responsibility he cannot escape.
Riser genuinely wishes to help his people, and that sincerity only complicates what should have been a simpler life.
The scars of war marred not just his body but his spirit—his recent injury left him temporarily blind, his unholy alliance with Rizevim plunged him into morally ambiguous territory, and the weight of his choices bore heavily on him.
All of this was a testament, a story told without words: this was merely the beginning of Adolf Riser's extraordinary life.
The peace they had once imagined for themselves was growing more distant, fading into a cruel mirage.
By stepping once more into the turbulent affairs of the Underworld, Riser reclaimed his mantle and embraced his responsibilities—not as a mere Austrian painter, twice rejected by the Vienna Academy, but as a proud and noble devil.
No one could predict where this treacherous path would lead Adolf Riser, but Le Fay knew one thing with absolute certainty: it was never going to be sunshine and rainbows.
The war looms over not just the devils and fallen angels but hints at greater conflicts to come.
Le Fay, watching all this unfold, can see the storm clouds gathering far beyond the horizon.
The battles ahead will not end with a single victory; they will breed new wars, new strife, and new trials that will drag him back into the vortex of chaos again and again.
Her beloved will not retreat. His duty, his pride, and his unyielding love for his race will not permit him to step back, to hide, or to let others bear the burden he feels is his alone to carry.
He will fight. He will fight until the bitter end, until the devils stand victorious—or until he falls, consumed by the very flames he sought to control.
And so, she sighs once more.
What will their future become?