Azriel's opinion of Solomon shifted slightly.
If he had to label it, the man had gone from a maniac… to a battle-hungry maniac being courted by sovereigns of the great clans.
'At least he didn't kill me…'
Judging by Solomon's last expression, Azriel was almost certain he'd considered it.
"Hm? Where did Saint Solomon disappear to?"
Glancing to his right, Azriel saw Ragnar standing with a tray in hand. Thomas followed just behind, carefully balancing two more trays of food.
"Solomon decided to head back home."
"I see… It was already surprising he stayed this long, but…"
Azriel noticed veins bulging on Ragnar's forehead as he gritted his teeth.
"Then why did he order all this food if he was just going to leave!?"
Azriel bit the inside of his cheek, struggling to keep a straight face as he glanced at one of the trays—towering with a ridiculous stack of pancakes.
He really wanted to laugh.
Only Solomon would have the audacity to pull something like that on the head of the Frost Clan and get away with it.
Despite appearances, Ragnar wasn't as generous as he liked to seem. Azriel knew that.
Ragnar's aunt had no doubt pressured him to butter up the Clown.
'Waste of effort from the start anyway. No way he'd earn Solomon's favor just by fetching food.'
"I'll eat it," Azriel offered. "No point wasting money—and I'm starving."
Ragnar grumbled and sat down with Thomas.
Azriel furrowed his brows.
'What do they take me for? Sure, I'm a prince—but not a spoiled one!'
He sighed and looked out the window, his eyes following the quiet streets—until they landed on someone.
'...Huh?'
A young woman walked along the sidewalk, delicately licking a cone of chocolate ice cream.
She wore a black cap, a crisp white T-shirt, and sleek leather pants that clung to her form.
His gaze was drawn to her porcelain face—elegant, striking.
Beautiful…
Any man would've fallen in love at first sight.
But Azriel didn't feel infatuation. He felt something else entirely.
Recognition.
Familiarity.
Because…
"…Sister."
*****
Returning to the Crimson estate wasn't really an option for Jasmine—not right now.
Even though it was still early, she knew everyone would be awake. The kings of the great clans were visiting today, after all.
She didn't have the energy for it. She didn't want to deal with any of it.
So she wandered to the outskirts of EASC instead.
To put it simply, she was walking through a graveyard.
The people who lived here were poor—weak.
If a Void rift were to open here, they wouldn't stand a chance.
By the time the Crimson soldiers or the government's military arrived, it would be far too late.
These people couldn't defend themselves. They couldn't even afford weapons.
Eventually, she arrived at a small, neglected park.
No one came here anymore. No one maintained it.
In the center sat a stagnant pond, its water tinged green with algae, but still managing to reflect the cloudy sky above. Water lilies floated across its surface—pink and white blossoms untouched by time.
Occasionally, a frog leapt from the bank, rippling the stillness.
Jasmine took a seat on the stone bench facing the pond and sighed.
"I'm still hungry…"
And it hadn't even been an hour since she devoured three scoops of chocolate ice cream.
"Not like I'm going to get fat."
Not with the way she trained.
Tapping her thumb on the storage ring around her finger, a bag of chips materialized and dropped onto her lap.
This park had become her secret haven after Azriel's death.
The one place she could escape to.
Where she could eat as much as she wanted and be alone with her thoughts.
She reached for the bag, ready to open it, when—
"You're still as gluttonous as ever, sister."
Ba-dump!
Her heart pounded violently in her chest as her body froze.
'That voice…'
She shook her head.
'No… It can't be.'
It was a voice she longed for, one she thought she'd never hear again.
'My mind's playing tricks on me.'
After all...
He was dead.
She took a breath, calming her nerves, and reached for the chips again—
"I can't believe you're ignoring me after I traveled across half of Europe with a bunch of clowns just to get here. Cruel. Truly cruel. I might cry."
Her heart thundered in her chest. Again.
'W-What…?'
She sprang from the bench, nearly tripping into the pond as she spun around.
"…Huh."
Her mind blanked.
There, standing in front of her—was him.
Azriel.
Her brother.
He stood calmly, wearing a faint smile and gazing at her with soft, warm eyes.
He wore a sleek black military uniform—but no insignia or rank badge.
A long black fur coat rested loosely on his shoulders. Gloves covered his hands.
In any other situation, she might've mocked him for dressing like that in the summer heat.
But now?
"…Azriel?"
Her voice trembled. Her lips quivered.
She stood motionless, unable to believe what she was seeing.
'No… it can't be. He died.'
'Calm down… it's not him. It can't be him.'
Her breathing slowed. Her expression hardened into its usual, cold composure.
'Right. It could just be someone impersonating him.'