Elvara was by his side, her expression a perfect mask of worry. But Kenji knew better. He had read the story. Behind that mask was a quiet, simmering hatred. She was a snake, waiting for the right moment to strike.
He couldn't blame her. The real Azrael had been cruel to her, treating her less like a wife and more like a slave. Her obedience now was born from fear, not loyalty. The hatred wasn't at its peak yet, but the seeds were planted.
A maid arrived with a small green bottle. Elvara took it, uncorked it, and gently poured the glowing liquid over his bleeding knuckles. The pain subsided instantly, and the torn skin began to mend before his eyes.
"You don't have to add 'lord'," he said suddenly, his voice low. "Just use my name."
She paused, looking up at him with confusion in her green eyes. "I can't do that, my lord."
"Fine," he snapped, pulling his hand away. "Do what you want."
He was angry. Angry at the brutal quest, angry at the pathetic reward. The system said he could earn points through rewards, but he hadn't received a single one. Just one point of Strength that he couldn't even feel. What was the point of all that pain?
As if responding to his frustration, a new screen popped up in his vision.
! NEW QUEST UNLOCKED !
(Choose one)
Kill Elvara.
Time Limit: 12 Hours
Reward: 10,000 P
Abandon your family name.
Time Limit: 12 Hours
Reward: 5,000 P
Help Elvara.
Time Limit: 12 Hours
Reward: 1,000 P
He stared at the options, his anger turning into a cold dread. The first choice was the most logical from a survival standpoint. Killing Elvara would sever one of the two main connections to the hero.
In the novel, the hero first meets Elvara near the academy. He witnesses Azrael's cruelty towards her and decides to intervene. She sees the hero as her savior and helps the other heroine bring Azrael down. It was a perfect, tragic plan. Killing her now would stop that future.
He gulped. He had never killed anyone. His mother had taught him to be kind, to respect women. Elvara was a victim in this story, just as he was. 'I will change my own fate,' he thought fiercely, 'but maybe… maybe I can change hers too.' He dismissed the first option.
He looked at the second choice. 'Abandon the Ashveil name.' This was the worst possible option. This family was his greatest asset. It had power, resources, and more money than he could ever imagine. It was the foundation he needed to grow stronger. 'Why would the system even suggest this? It's a trap.'
That left the third option. Help Elvara. The reward was pitifully low. 1,000 points could buy him nothing from the shop. And what did 'help Elvara' even mean? The quest gave no details. How was he supposed to help her?
Elvara watched him, her face still etched with concern. "I don't think you are fine," she began, her voice hesitant. "For the past few days, you are…"
She was cut off by the arrival of a tall, stern-looking butler. He bowed stiffly.
"Lord Azrael," the butler said, his voice devoid of emotion. "The Matriarch has summoned you."
A chill ran down Kenji's spine. He felt Elvara stiffen beside him. The Matriarch. Celestria Ashveil. His older sister.
'She's back?' he thought, panic rising in his chest. "When did she return?"
"Just a moment ago, my lord," the butler replied. "As soon as she entered the mansion, she asked for you. She… looks angry."
The butler then turned his cold gaze to Elvara. "The Matriarch wants you to accompany him as well."
They walked through the grand, silent hallways of the mansion. The portraits of stern-faced ancestors seemed to watch them, their painted eyes full of judgment. Kenji's heart hammered against his ribs. Celestria was the true power in this house. In the novel, she was a complex character, cold and ruthless in her duties but secretly protective of her younger brother. He didn't know which version he was about to face.
The butler stopped in front of a pair of massive, dark oak doors. He pushed them open and stepped aside. "The Matriarch will see you now."
Kenji took a deep breath and stepped inside, Elvara following a pace behind him. The room was a vast study, lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. A large, ornate desk sat in the center, and behind it, a woman was silhouetted against the tall window.
She turned, and the breath caught in his throat.
Celestria Ashveil was terrifyingly beautiful. Her hair was the color of liquid silver, a rare trait in the Ashveil family, and it was tied back in a severe, elegant bun. But it was her eyes that held all the power. They were the same violet as his, but hers were not soft or uncertain. They were sharp and cold, like shards of ice, and they were fixed directly on him, burning with a controlled fury. She was the storm, and he had just walked into its eye.