"Hey," Sophia called out, her voice breaking the quiet stillness of the room as she gently shook Seraphina, who had fallen asleep beside Amon's infirmary bed, her head resting close to his motionless hand. "Wake up."
Sophia continued to shake her shoulder until Seraphina jolted awake, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. She frantically looked around the sterile room with lingering terror, her eyes darting from the sterile infirmary room to the steady rise and fall of Amon's chest. After a long moment, the panic receded, and she let out a heavy sigh of absolute relief.
"Nightfallen, you were crying," Sophia spoke in a calm, measured voice, observing her closely.
Hearing her words, Seraphina automatically ran her hand across her cheeks and paused. They were completely wet. She really had been crying in her sleep.
"I assume you had a bad dream." Sophia looked down at her neutrally, her sharp eyes scanning the younger girl's exhausted posture.
"Y... Yeah..." Seraphina murmured, rubbing her damp cheeks and eyes to clear her vision. "I-It was a v-very bad dream..."
She glanced back at Amon, who remained peacefully unconscious, a brief wave of relief washing over her features before it melted into a deep, lingering sadness. The image of the falling crimson blindfold was still burned into the back of her eyelids.
"Hmm, was it related to Amon?" Sophia questioned. The sudden precision of the question made Seraphina snap her head up, looking at her with genuine surprise. Sophia tilted her head slightly. "So, it was."
"Miss Sophia, you're... very sharp..." Seraphina said, deeply impressed by the woman's terrifying intuition. "Amon was right about you. He told me you are a very sharp and brilliant girl, perfectly worthy of being the next Crown Matriarch..."
"Did he... actually say those exact words?"
Sophia's cold expression suddenly shifted, melting into an intensely happy, radiating look. It was almost uncanny how her distant, unapproachable demeanour completely vanished the absolute millisecond Amon's compliment was mentioned.
"Well, yeah," Seraphina chuckled faintly, momentarily distracted from her lingering nightmare by the dramatic shift in Amon's older sister's energy.
"My brother really does love me...!" Sophia murmured under her breath, looking for a fleeting moment as if she were about to ascend to a higher plane of existence physically.
But within seconds, the mask slipped back into place. She cleared her throat and composed herself, her posture turning formal once more. "Anyways. What exactly was this bad dream you had about Amon?"
Seraphina was silent for a few moments, her fingers anxiously interlacing as she wondered how she could describe the raw terror of that sequence to Sophia. Finally, after taking a deep breath to stabilise her shaking voice, she decided to speak.
"Amon... he was standing right at the edge of a jagged cliff," Seraphina explained softly, an underlying, suffocating sadness colouring every word. "He looked as if he were in a tremendous amount of pain. Emotional pain. He looked back at me... and he talked about not being enough to save anyone. He told me to forgive him, and in the very next moment, he pointed his wand directly at himself and... disappeared into a blinding light. The only thing left behind was his crimson blindfold."
Seraphina's hands were trembling violently now, a detail Sophia's gaze caught instantly. She fully understood that the psychological impact of the vision had deeply fractured Seraphina's composure, even if it was technically just a dream.
"So, she is close to MY beloved," Sophia thought, a sudden, dark toxicity violently flaring beneath her composure. An intense wave of sickening jealousy and murderous intent directed entirely at Seraphina flooded her consciousness. "I want to mangle her. I want to mangle her! I want to completely mangle her!"
Sophia's internal thoughts were quickly overwhelmed by a chorus of chaotic, murderous whispers. She fundamentally could not bear other women occupying a significant space in her brother's life.
Jacqueline Augustus and her children, Costoria Leone, Jeanne Nova, Gia Nova, Amou, Tiamat, and now Seraphina Nightfallen—every single one of these names made Sophia feel utterly miserable and violently territorial.
These women were allowed to naturally converse with her brother, share his burdens, and bypass his tactical walls. Meanwhile, despite her unadulterated, absolute devotion, Amon consistently maintained a calculated distance from her. She loved him with an intensity that bordered on religious zealotry, yet he refused to acknowledge the true depth of her affection simply because she was his own sister.
"Miss... Sophia...?" Seraphina called out meekly, her voice pulling the heiress back. She looked up at Sophia with a slightly puzzled, unnerved expression, sensing a sudden, inexplicable shift in the room's atmospheric pressure. "Are... you alright?"
"I am perfectly fine," Sophia replied smoothly. She looked back at Seraphina with a flawlessly neutral expression, completely masking the violent, bloody turmoil raging inside her skull. "And you should not worry yourself over a dream such as that. My brother is an exceptionally strong man; he will not break so easily."
Sophia then directed her gaze toward her unconscious brother for a brief, reverent moment before pinning her eyes back onto Seraphina.
"You should return to your dorm room immediately and secure proper rest. I understand you are deeply concerned, but if you wreck your own health, you won't be of any assistance in my beloved brother's eventual recovery, would you?"
Seraphina listened to the cold, logical execution of her words and, after a long moment of silence, let out an exasperated, exhausted sigh. "You're entirely right, Miss Sophia."
She slowly rose from her seat, her joints aching from the tension, and walked toward the heavy exit doors of the infirmary. "Thank you for... your kind words, Miss Sophia." She turned back one last time, offering a small, thoroughly exhausted smile before stepping out into the corridor and letting the door click shut.
Sophia watched the doors click shut behind Seraphina before slowly turning her gaze back toward Amon. The terrifying, murderous aura that had gripped her mind just a second prior entirely evaporated, her expression softening into a vulnerable, agonising mix of raw sorrow and deep-seated guilt.
"I am so sorry, Amon," she spoke faintly. Her voice, usually so sharp and commanding, was barely a cracked whisper as she sat down on the edge of the mattress. She reached out, gently lifting his motionless hand and pressing it tightly against her cheek, desperately seeking even a fraction of his warmth.
"You've always been trapped in these perilous situations, and all I could ever do was stand by and watch... Forgive me for being such a weak, useless older sister..." Tears began to silently roll from the corners of her eyes, tracing the exact path where her brother's cold skin met her own. "You know... when the report came in that you had been shot... I genuinely thought the entire world had ended. It felt like my very soul had been crushed into nothingness."
As unhealthy and obsessive as her love for Amon was, the sheer weight of her sorrow was completely real. Sophia wanted nothing more than to upend reality itself to protect the brother she had mentally promised her entire future to—but Amon never allowed her inside his perimeter.
He had always stubbornly insisted that she should focus entirely on studies, demanding that she work herself to become the perfect Crown Matriarch. Yet, Sophia could never accept that destiny. To her, the entire concept was a farce because, compared to Amon's blinding brilliance, she felt like nothing.
He was staggeringly strong, terrifyingly smart, fiercely charismatic, and possessed every single metric required to become the next Crown Head. He had ascended to the rank of an official Prosecutor before he had even set foot inside the R.S. Advanced Academy as a student.
Yet, someone as monstrously capable as him explicitly refused the throne. And because of his stubborn refusal, the Duel of Succession—a long-standing, blood-soaked Crown tradition—never came to pass.
The Duel of Succession is a mandatory trial designed to appoint a successor from the family's direct bloodline. Established during the founding era of the Crown Duchy, it is religiously enforced the exact millisecond the heirs turn 16. The victor claims the right to the throne, while the loser is treated accordingly.
Naturally, the moment Amon crossed his sixteenth birthday threshold, Emilia had brought up the matter of the Duel of Succession. But Amon had completely shattered tradition, flatly refusing to fight against his sister and instantly conceding the title to Sophia. Even when Emilia tried to explain the ritual's severe political gravity and historical weight, Amon wouldn't budge a single inch. He didn't want the succession, firmly believing that Sophia's temperament would make her a far more stable leader for the family's future.
"Amon... why must you always be like this..." Sophia sniffled, her chest heaving as the weight of years of isolation broke through her composure. "You always push yourself into these horrific, fatal situations... and you never, ever reciprocate my affection... Why..."
- - -
I had heavily underestimated the sheer scale of the R.S. Advanced Academy. It was astronomical! Standing at the archway of the central library felt less like stepping into a study hall and more like wandering straight into an endless, labyrinthine maze of books.
The sole reason for my visit was to fix my affinity for Fire Magic. While I've always been decent at manipulating almost every other element, Fire Magic is something I've consistently struggled to channel.
I had asked Professor Judy for some guidance after class, and she kindly recommended that I visit the library to pull 'Magic Control: Senior's Edition'.
According to her, it provided readers with unparalleled insight into elemental resonance. She had even taken the time to write down the exact title on a small slip of paper just in case I forgot it. She was always so incredibly thoughtful and gentle with us—which made it even more puzzling why Amon seemed to dislike her so intensely.
Standing in the main foyer, however, I realised I had zero chance of finding the volume on my own. Spotting the front desk, I immediately approached the head librarian.
She was a remarkably stunning woman—fair-skinned, with long brown hair, warm brown eyes, and an effortlessly elegant face and physique. She wore a bright green T-shirt paired with dark jeans and blue heels beneath a crisp white apron. Her approachable, warm demeanour immediately made her seem like a kind, welcoming presence.
"Miss, could you tell me where I can find this book?" I asked nervously, handing her the small slip of paper.
"It's located in Section 142, Bookshelf 23, Row 4," The librarian replied with a soft, reassuring smile, glancing over the note for a brief second before handing it back.
"Section 142...?" I repeated, looking out over the endless rows of towering mahogany shelves with a rising sense of panic. "Ma'am, this place is massive..."
"You don't have to worry, dear," The librarian chuckled softly at my obvious distress. "All the sections are clearly labelled with bold signs, so you won't have a hard time navigating. The same goes for the individual shelves." She gestured toward a tall structure directly behind me, where a polished plaque clearly read 'Bookshelf 7'.
"Or I could just save her the trip," a smooth, familiar voice chimed in.
I spun around to see Amon casually stepping out from the adjacent aisle, holding a heavy leather-bound tome in his left hand.
He wore that effortlessly confident smile that never failed to throw off my focus. Even with his signature crimson blindfold completely obscuring his eyes, his striking looks didn't fade in the slightest—if anything, the crimson silk only heightened his magnetic, enigmatic charm. I caught myself wondering, not for the first time, how someone could manage to be so naturally handsome and charming without even trying.
"Here, take it," he said, stepping into my personal space with an easy, fluid stride as he handed me the book.
"Thanks... but how did you..." I trailed off, taking the tome and staring down at the embossed title—Magic Control: Senior's Edition—before looking back up at him in utter shock.
"I happened to overhear your conversation with Professor Judy, Sera," Amon said, his confident smile softening into an amused smirk. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I was passing through the corridor when she brought it up. You're struggling with fire elemental control, right?"
"Yeah," I admitted, nodding sheepishly. "I've read through half a dozen texts, but they all give the same vague advice: 'Maintain a mind with the perfect equilibrium of calmness and fieriness.' I don't even know what that's supposed to mean in practice! I've even watched several video tutorials, but none of them actually explain the mental transition."
"It's actually surprisingly simple," Amon chuckled, his tone completely nonchalant. "We have Professor Samir's class in thirty minutes anyway. I'll break down the mental framework on our way to the lecture hall, and while we're walking, I'll show you how to brew an Invisibility Potion without using any chameleon hide." He gestured with his chin for me to fall in line beside him.
My eyes widened in instant horror. "Oh no—I completely forgot about Professor Samir's homework!"
Running into Amon at that exact second felt like a literal act of divine intervention. Professor Samir was notorious for assigning ridiculously complex, borderline-impossible theoretical practicals.
I still had nightmares about the first day of his course, when he demanded the entire class present a functional Potion of Gliding derived entirely from a pure water base—a feat that violated standard alchemy principles.
Somehow, Amon, Jeanne, Ross, and Calisto had cracked the underlying molecular trick, and Amon had saved me by breaking down the entire process for me the evening before the deadline.
As we stepped out through the towering library doors, a question that had been quietly lingering in the back of my mind finally resurfaced. I had pondered it so many times, but no matter how much I thought about it, I could never come up with a satisfying answer.
I glanced over at Amon as he walked alongside me, effortlessly matching my shorter stride. He was always so thoughtful, so unnaturally patient and kind toward me.
Not only that, he had done so much for my life already. If it hadn't been for his intervention, I honestly doubted I would even be standing here, attending an elite institution like the R.S. Advanced Academy.
We had only been taking classes here for a few days, yet he was already bending over backwards to help me succeed—and he never asked for a single thing in return. Not that he needed to, considering he belonged to the Crown Family and essentially possessed everything anyone could ever want.
"Amon... why are you always this nice to me?" I asked, unable to contain my eager curiosity any longer.
Hearing my question, Amon slowed his pace slightly, a thoughtful, calculating expression settling across his features behind his blindfold.
"Because you're a good person," Amon answered with a simple shrug. "You have an honest soul and a gentle heart." He offered a soft, reassuring smile.
"Is... that really all?" I stared up at him, caught off guard by how effortlessly he said it.
"Well, I also want to help you grow stronger because I find the process to be an incredibly interesting experience," he replied, his gentle smile remaining unchanged. "You possess tremendous untapped potential, Sera. I can't just stand by and let a rare gem like that go to waste, can I?"
"So... you're helping me primarily because of my potential?" I asked, my brows furrowing as I tried to process his logic.
"Partially," Amon spoke softly, his voice dropping into a tone that felt entirely genuine and deeply comforting. "But overall? I'm helping you because you're a kind soul, and I genuinely like you."
The moment those words left his lips, my feet froze, locking me in place on the stone walkway.
An intense, burning heat flushed across my cheeks, spreading so fast I felt like my entire face was on fire. My brain completely short-circuited, my thoughts melting into a frantic, chaotic blur. Sensing that I was no longer walking beside him, Amon stopped a few paces ahead and turned back, tilting his head with slight puzzlement.
"Sera?"
- - -