The sterile scent of antiseptic lingered heavily in the air.
Azriah—no, Noah, as he had once been—stood beside the operating table, his gloved hands steady despite the exhaustion clawing at his nerves. Sweat trickled down his temple, but he didn't dare wipe it. Five hours. Five hours of relentless focus.
"Clamp."
The lead surgeon's voice was calm, sharp. He obeyed instantly, passing the instrument without hesitation. His movements were precise, almost mechanical—yet his eyes never lost their intensity.
The mother's condition had been critical. Blood loss had pushed her to the brink more than once, but the surgeon was exceptional. Noah knew that much. He wasn't the one leading this battle—he was support. Suturing. Assisting. Stabilizing the newborn.
Still… every second mattered.
And then—
A cry.
Weak at first. Then louder.
The sound cut through the tension like a blade.
"It's a girl," the surgeon muttered, relief slipping into her tone.
Noah exhaled slowly, a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Carefully, he received the newborn, his hands gentler than they had been the entire operation.
"You're alright," he murmured softly, almost instinctively.
The baby cried louder, alive—vividly alive.
That alone made everything worth it.
Five hours later.
The hospital doors slid open with a soft mechanical hum as Noah stepped outside. The evening air hit him like a wave, cool and refreshing against his tired body.
And then he saw her.
Blonde hair catching the fading sunlight. Blue eyes scanning the surroundings with quiet impatience.
Cecelia.
She stood near the entrance, arms crossed, clearly waiting.
Noah smirked.
He walked up silently, his steps light despite his fatigue. Leaning in slightly, he whispered right beside her ear—
"Boo."
Nothing.
Not even a flinch.
Cecelia slowly turned her head, her expression flat, unimpressed.
"…That's not funny."
For a moment, silence hung between them.
Then—
Her lips curved.
A radiant smile bloomed across her face, bright enough to erase the coldness from moments ago.
"How was the operation?" she asked, her voice warm now.
Noah shrugged lightly. "Mother had some blood loss. It was serious for a bit, but the main surgeon handled it well. I just did minor work—suturing, stabilizing the baby."
Cecelia listened attentively, her eyes softening.
And then—
Smack.
She lightly clapped his back, not hard—but enough to make him stumble half a step.
"I'm proud of you, my husband."
Noah froze.
"…Who said I'm going to marry you?"
He glanced at her with a mocking grin. "And don't call me your husband."
The air changed.
Instantly.
A chill ran down his spine.
Slowly, very slowly, Noah turned his head.
Cecelia was staring at him.
Not smiling.
Not blinking.
Just… staring.
"…Say that again," she said softly.
Noah felt something primal in his instincts scream at him to back down.
But of course—
He didn't.
"My boyfriend—"
Cecelia stepped closer.
Too close.
Her face was inches from his now.
"Do you want me to rot without a husband until old age?" she continued, her voice dangerously calm. "And then have my niece walk into my room one day and ask—"
She leaned in even further.
"—'Aunt, why aren't you married? Are you secretly a magical girl or something?'"
Noah's expression cracked.
"…Don't."
His voice was serious now.
Cecelia's eyes sharpened.
"Oh? So that's where you draw the line?"
"No," he said quickly, a hint of panic slipping through. "Just—never bring that up again."
For a moment, they locked eyes.
Then—
Cecelia smiled.
Not warmly.
Not playfully.
But with something far more dangerous.
"Good," she whispered. "Because you're mine anyway."
A cold certainty lingered in her tone.
And for once—
Noah didn't have a comeback.
The memory shattered.
Azriah exhaled slowly, pulling himself back to the present.
Before him lay Valeria, the Second Empress, her frail body barely clinging to vitality. Diana stood nearby, her hands trembling slightly as she watched.
Azriah reached into his robe and brought out a small pouch.
"Mix this with water," he said calmly, handing it to Diana.
She nodded without hesitation and quickly prepared the solution. Returning, she gently helped her mother drink it.
Silence filled the chamber.
Then—
Azriah stepped forward and placed his hand on the Empress's forehead.
And pushed.
Mana surged from his core like a raging tide.
At first, nothing happened.
Then—
Light.
A soft glow began to spread across Valeria's skin. Slowly, steadily, it intensified. The corrupted mana within her core began to unravel, threads of impurity burning away under Azriah's relentless force.
Her circuits—damaged, twisted—started to realign.
Reconstruct.
Rebirth.
Azriah gritted his teeth.
His vision blurred.
Still—he didn't stop.
More.
He forced more mana out.
His core screamed in protest.
But he ignored it.
Just a little more—
Just—
—
The glow peaked.
Valeria's breathing stabilized.
Color returned to her pale skin.
Vitality.
Life.
She was coming back.
And then—
Azriah collapsed.
He dropped to his knees, his body trembling violently.
"—!"
A mouthful of blood spilled from his lips.
Diana's eyes widened in horror.
"Azriah!"
She rushed to him immediately, catching him before he could fall completely. Supporting his weight, she guided him to a nearby chair.
"Stay still—!"
Her hands moved quickly, checking his condition.
And then she froze.
"…You dummy what did you do? Why did you exhaust your man?."
Her voice shook.
But that wasn't all.
Her senses sharpened—
And what she felt next made her blood run cold.
"…And why do i feel the aura of curse around you?"
She looked at him, disbelief flooding her expression.
"You got cursed!"
Azriah chuckled weakly, wiping the blood from his mouth.
"Relax princess."
"Relax?!" Diana snapped, panic creeping into her voice. "You're telling me not to worry when you've just collapsed after curing my mother—and you just got cursed?!"
He leaned back slightly, his expression surprisingly calm.
"Huh… worrying for your would-be fiancé already?"
Diana stiffened.
"That's not—this isn't the time for jokes!"
Azriah's lips curled faintly.
"The curse is removable," he said casually. "Don't make such a big deal out of it."
She clenched her fists.
"…You risked your life."
"For your mother," he corrected.
Silence fell.
Diana looked at him—really looked this time.
And something shifted in her eyes.
Azriah noticed.
Of course he did.
"Take care of her," he continued, his tone steady now. "And be careful."
Diana frowned. "Careful… of what?"
"The First Empress," he said without hesitation. "And your dearest uncle—Duke Stormveil."
Her breath hitched.
"He's plotting against you as well."
"…What?"
"He'll likely send healers from his estate soon," Azriah added. "Don't trust them blindly."
Diana's mind raced.
Before she could respond—
Azriah stood up.
Unsteady, but firm.
"…Goodbye i will wait for your end of the deal."
And without another word—
He stepped onto the windowsill—
—and jumped.
"Azriah—!"
Diana rushed to the window.
But there was nothing.
Only the open sky.
And a flock of doves scattering into the distance.
She stood there, frozen.
"…Thank you…"
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
Not of sorrow.
But relief.
Elsewhere.
Azriah landed silently in the shadows beyond the palace walls.
Sham leaned against a nearby pillar, arms crossed, a grin already forming.
"…What impeccable acting."
Azriah didn't respond immediately.
Instead, he reached into his robe—
—and pulled out a dagger.
Its blade shimmered faintly, dark energy clinging to it like smoke.
"The curse," Sham noted.
Azriah glanced at it.
"You applied it before entering the castle."
Sham raised a brow. "You are a bastard you know right ?"
"To simulate mana depletion," Azriah replied calmly. "The moment I pushed my core beyond its limit, the curse activated."
Sham let out a low whistle.
"…You're insane."
Azriah smirked.
"Maybe."
He twirled the dagger once before sheathing it.
"Now," he continued, his voice lowering, "Diana believes I risked my life for her mother."
Understanding dawned on Sham's face.
"…Guilt trap."
Azriah's smile deepened.
"Exactly."
He turned his gaze toward the distant palace.
"She'll come running whenever I ask for her help."
A pause.
"The anti-Azriah factions…"
His eyes gleamed faintly.
"…their future looks bleak."
Sham chuckled.
"You're playing a dangerous game."
Azriah's expression didn't change.
"I always do."
A faint breeze passed through the night, rustling his cloak.
And under the moonlight—
A devilish smirk formed on his lips.