Aurora sat across from him, back straight despite the storm of thoughts running through her mind. The couch beneath her felt too soft, too normal for a situation that had already shattered everything she believed in.
Charlotte—or rather, the man before her—leaned back casually, as if none of this was out of the ordinary.
Aurora clasped her hands together, steadying herself. Of all the questions flooding her mind, one rose above the rest.
"First and foremost… is it Ms. Charlotte or Mr… what?"
The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. Her fingers tightened slightly as embarrassment crept up her neck.
The man laughed. Not mocking, just… amused.
"Aster," he said. "Aster Collins."
He said it so casually, like it wasn't a name that should shake the foundations of her world.
"Aster's fine." Aurora's eyes widened slightly.
"From what I can see, you're not an offspring of a witch. The way we around... New York, it just felt... weird. No witches ever let their children be tainted by.. A Bareblood? You're a Bareblood..." she repeated, standing abruptly.
That was impossible. Everything about him was impossible.
She had thought, at the very least, that he was a man born into a hidden witch family. Someone who slipped through tradition's cracks.
But a Bareblood?
Someone with no mana?
Someone like that standing in front of her as the Heretical Witch?
"You're really a great witch, Ms. Char—" She bit her tongue, immediately covering her mouth. "S-Sorry!"
Aster waved it off without a second thought.
"You witches and your Barebloods," he chuckled. "It's fine. I'll explain."
Aurora slowly sat back down, curling slightly into herself.
She had looked down on Barebloods before. All witches did.
And yet now, She couldn't look at him that way anymore.
If someone like him could learn magic… then what was stopping the others? The thought sent a quiet chill down her spine.
She tightened her grip around her cup.
"How?" she asked, voice quieter this time. "How are you able to learn magic, Mr. Aster?"
"Aster's fine," he corrected once more lightly. "I'm only twenty-three. We're barely a year apart." He tilted his head slightly.
"Do you want the long story… or the short one?"
Aurora leaned forward, eyes wide, fingers tightening around her cup.
"The long one," she said.
A pause.
"…Please."
Aster exhaled slowly, gaze drifting upward as if recalling something distant.
"Five years ago," he began, "I was dating a witch."
Aurora blinked.
"A real one. Not from some big house or a fraud that calls herself a witch. Just an apprentice."
His tone softened slightly.
"She used to talk about magic all the time. The Witching Hour, spells, all of it."
Aurora nodded instinctively.
"And you believed her?" she asked.
"I humored her," Aster replied with a small smile. "I thought it made her happy."
His expression shifted.
"Until I saw it."
The night had been quiet.
Too quiet.
The city should have been alive. Cars, voices, something. But instead, there was only the faint rustle of feathers against concrete.
Aster slowed his steps.
"…Something's wrong."
Feathers littered the ground ahead. Some still twitched. Others were soaked in something too dark to be mistaken for shadow.
And at the center of it,
Something crouched. Its back rose and fell slowly, breathing in deep, deliberate motions.
At first glance, it looked like a dog.
A large one.
A stray, maybe.
Then it lifted its head.
And Aster stopped breathing.
Its body was wrong. Too long. Too heavy. Muscles shifted unnaturally beneath skin stretched too tight, as if barely containing what lay underneath. Its fur was black, but not natural black. It swallowed the light around it, uneven, dull, like something burned and grown back incorrectly.
Its jaw hung open.
Too wide.
Teeth, layered, not aligned. It gleamed wet under the streetlight, slick with something that dripped steadily onto the pavement.
Aster took a step back.
A sickening crack echoed as the creature crushed bone between its jaws.
Its ears twitched.
Then its eyes locked onto him.
Deep.
Sunken.
Wrong.
Not glowing with magic but with something far worse.
Awareness.
"…That's not a dog," Aster whispered.
The creature stood. Its limbs unfolded slowly, joints bending just a little too far before settling. Claws scraped against concrete with a sharp, dragging sound.
It stepped forward.
Aster flinched.
Behind him, she moved.
"Don't run," she said sharply.
He almost laughed.
Don't run?
The creature's lips peeled back, revealing even more of those layered teeth. A low growl rumbled from its chest. Not loud, but deep enough that Aster felt it in his bones.
It shifted.
Then lunged.
"Run!" she shouted, shoving him back.
A flash of blue light cut through the air.
Magic.
The air cracked.
Aster stumbled, heart pounding as he turned and ran. Behind him, claws tore into pavement. The sound of impact and magic collided in violent bursts.
He didn't look back.
He couldn't.
But he heard everything.
Heavy footsteps.
Too fast.
Too close.
And her voice?
Sharp.
Focused.
Not the girl he knew.
Someone else entirely.
By the time the sounds faded, Aster had run farther than he ever had in his life.
He collapsed onto a bench, struggling to steady his breathing.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
And then, she appeared. Walking towards him slowly. Her usual smile was gone. In its place was something colder.
Tired.
Calculating.
She sat beside him, exhaling deeply.
"You shouldn't have seen that," she said quietly.
Aster stared ahead.
"So everything you said…" he began.
"…was real."
"…Yes."
Silence lingered.
Then Aster smiled.
Aurora sat frozen.
Her fingers had loosened around her cup, forgotten entirely.
"…And then?" she asked softly.
"We broke up," Aster said simply.
No drama.
No hesitation.
"After a fight."
Aurora frowned slightly.
"And you just… decided to learn magic?"
Aster laughed.
"I got obsessed."
He remembered everything. Every gesture. Every chant. Every small detail she never thought he would notice.
He tried.
Failed.
Tried again.
Failed again.
Over and over.
Until he reached the point where giving up felt easier.
"…And then I had a thought," he said.
Aurora leaned forward.
"The moon," he continued. "It's the source of mana for witches, right?"
She nodded.
"It reflects sunlight."
Aurora froze.
Aster smiled.
"If the sun grants strength to men… then why wouldn't its reflection carry something similar?"
Aurora's breath caught.
"That's when I stopped thinking like a witch." His gaze sharpened.
"And started thinking like myself."
"The Lunarian Principle," Aurora whispered.
"Exactly." Aster leaned back, satisfied.
"Once I figured that out… everything else followed."
Books. Materials. Experiments.
He forced his way into a world that was never meant to accept him.
"I didn't care about affinities," he continued. "Didn't care about tradition."
Aurora swallowed.
"…You just took it."
Aster grinned.
"Exactly."
Silence lingered for a moment before Aster spoke again.
"By the way," he added casually, "how did you even manage to learn it? The research I presented was incomplete back then."
Aurora straightened slightly.
"I… followed your way of thinking."
"Oh?"
"When other circulations store or build mana…" she continued carefully, "…yours doesn't."
Aster's smile widened.
"It takes."
A pause.
"…But that's also its flaw."
Aster laughed.
Loud.
Genuine.
Aurora flinched.
Then, the air changed. The pressure alone made her body tense.
Mana.
Overwhelming.
Suffocating.
Aster looked at her, not as a mentor.
But as something observing prey.
"I didn't mean to offend," Aurora stammered.
"I know," he said calmly.
A smile.
"I'm just impressed."
Aurora blinked.
"What's the flaw?" he asked.
She swallowed.
"…It doesn't matter how fast you fill a container," she said slowly. "If the container itself is small."
Silence.
Then,
A clap.
"Correct."
"Let's fix that."
Before Aurora could react, space distorted slightly in front of her. Small openings formed near her forehead, chest, and abdomen.
"Focus mana there," Aster instructed.
Aurora obeyed without hesitation.
The moment she did, pain exploded through her body. Her breath hitched as something inside her strained, as if her entire being was trying to burst apart.
"Hold it," Aster said calmly.
"Stabilize it."
Her vision blurred.
Her body trembled.
Tears formed at the corners of her eyes.
And yet, she held on.
Minutes passed.
Then, it stopped.
Aurora gasped.
Air rushed into her lungs. She opened her eyes. And felt it.
Her mana.
It wasn't the same.
What once felt like a small container… had become something vast.
Endless. So to speak.
She stared at Aster in disbelief.
He grinned.
"Congrats," he said. "Didn't expect you to jump that fast. That was a bit tad dangerous but I knew you'd pull it off, genius."
Aurora almost snapped at him until she realized something.
He noticed.
For the first time, someone noticed her effort.
Aster stepped forward and lightly tapped her shoulder.
"Good job."
Aurora froze.
It was such a small thing.
Such a simple gesture.
And yet, her chest tightened.
Because for the first time in her life, she wasn't a disappointment.