Everyone inside the SUV went silent, stunned by the absurd statement that had just left Ragnar's mouth.
Everyone, that is, except the driver—whose reaction was different. His eyes narrowed as he glanced at Azriel through the rearview mirror… and then widened in disbelief.
"A-Azriel Crimson…"
'W-What the hell!?'
'What does he mean he's not against me dating her!?'
It was just a game, dammit! The maniac didn't even finish the second name!
Azriel was internally screaming, though, in hindsight, maybe it was for the best that Solomon hadn't mentioned a second option. He would've definitely picked that—just to avoid the awkwardness.
And that would've made it look like he didn't want Celestina.
Which would've earned him Ragnar's wrath.
'Wait… is he seriously trying to set me up with his daughter!?'
"You've grown into a fine young man," Ragnar said calmly, arms folded. "You're talented, and you're Joaquin's son. Of course you'd be the perfect match for my daughter."
Azriel narrowed his eyes.
So did Solomon.
And Thomas.
Something about the last part felt a little too emphasized...
"You've already spoken to her a few times, haven't you? You've seen for yourself—how smart, beautiful, and talented she is. Most boys your age would kill for a chance to be with her. She's already a grade 2 awakened. She only needs a bit over thirty more grade 3 beasts to break through."
'H-He's actually serious! He's really trying to set me up with her!'
Solomon's mouth had dropped open in disbelief. The driver's ears turned red from everything he was hearing. Thomas sat with one hand pressed against his temple.
"So, what do you say? Do you want to be with my daughter?"
All eyes turned toward Azriel.
Even the driver was now staring at him… rather than the road.
'E-Eh!? You expect me to answer this now?! What the hell am I supposed to say!?'
Sure, Celestina Frost was his favorite heroine when he was reading Path of Heroes—but that was back when she was a fictional character.
Back when he was Leo Karumi, a normal high school student.
Not Azriel Crimson.
And he didn't love her back then. He admired her. Like an idol.
'W-What do I say? If I decline, will he kill me hours before I even reunite with my family!?'
He flinched.
Ragnar's icy blue eyes were locked on him now.
Desperate, Azriel looked toward Solomon—only to see him turning away, avoiding his gaze completely.
'You traitor!'
The bastard was the one who got him into this mess in the first place!
"I-I—"
"Ah! We have… uhm, arrived," the driver said, as if the gods themselves had intervened.
Azriel exhaled in relief.
"Oh, right," Ragnar muttered. "We'll finish this conversation later, Azriel."
"Y-Yeah," he replied.
'Please don't.'
They had already passed through the gate without even realizing it. The Frost Clan's license plate had triggered an instant clearance.
Still glaring at Solomon as he climbed out of the car, Azriel turned his eyes to the city in front of him—
And stopped.
'Words don't do this justice...'
Towering skyscrapers reached into the clouds, their glass facades catching the glow of sunset. Many of them shimmered with flowing LED patterns, dancing in rhythm with the city.
The streets buzzed with conversation, with holographic ads projected across giant screens. Cafés and boutiques lined skybridges above, connecting building to building like a web of modern beauty.
The scent of sizzling street food drifted in from alleyways, mingling with the fragrances of upscale restaurants and flower vendors alike.
It was a world where nature and technology wove together seamlessly.
Azriel had memories of this place—from the Azriel who once lived here.
But right now, it felt like he was seeing it for the very first time.
'EASC...'
*****
Because all four clan kings were in EASC today, the streets were nearly deserted and heavily guarded.
Only verified citizens were allowed to move freely within the capital—
Except, of course, for Azriel and those with him.
Most locals had chosen to stay indoors. No one wanted to go through the exhaustive screening process just to walk around.
Now, seated across from Solomon in a small, cleared-out coffee shop, Azriel sipped his drink quietly. He'd finally gotten a haircut.
Thomas and—shockingly—even Ragnar had gone to collect their orders at the counter.
Which meant…
They were alone.
It was the perfect time.
Azriel hadn't let his guard down since the moment he woke up. Not while he was around.
Solomon Dragonheart.
Or as the other Saints called him in hushed tones—
The Clown.
"What do you really want?" Azriel asked flatly, cutting through the small talk like a blade.
No more games.
Yes, Solomon had kept things... interesting on the way back to EASC. But that didn't mean Azriel trusted him.
Not even close.
In the novel, The Clown had always fixated on the protagonist—ever since his entrance to the academy and his rise to first place.
The book never truly explored Solomon in depth—at least not up to where Azriel had read.
All he knew was that Solomon was the most talented Saint in human history, somehow a professor at the Hero Academy, and—
"Hm? What do I want?" Solomon tilted his head innocently. "I already gave Ragnar my order, didn't I?"
Azriel resisted the urge to punch him.
"I mean, why are you still here? What do you actually want… Clown."
The name left his lips coldly.
And instantly, the air around them changed.
The café's warmth vanished. Even the gentle clatter of dishes in the distance felt far away.
"Oh my~" Solomon whispered, placing a hand over his heart. "When did you become so curious about little ol' me? Ah! You're going to make me blush."
Azriel was about to snap back, but his breath caught in his throat.
Because behind that teasing smile—
Were eyes that made his skin crawl.