Soft light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting pale stripes across the polished floor. The air smelled faintly of lavender, calm yet unfamiliar. Azrael opened his eyes slowly, taking in the silence. The bed beneath him was soft, too soft to be a cell, too clean to be accidental.
Instinctively, his hand darted toward the nightstand, searching for a weapon, anything to protect himself. Before he could reach it, a shadow moved across the room.
She was there. Violette. Standing calm, composed, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders. Her violet eyes were sharp, calculating, yet teasing.
Azrael's fingers twitched toward the table again. She didn't flinch. In a fluid motion, she stepped forward and gripped both his wrists firmly.
He tried to pull away, but she forced him back onto the mattress. He landed with a soft thud, caught off guard. She straddled him lightly, pinning his arms with precise control.
Azrael froze. Confusion mixed with heat rising to his cheeks. Why does this feel… strange?Why am I unsettled like this?
Violette: "Is this how you greet someone who saved your life?"
Her voice was calm, teasing lightly. A faint blush colored her cheeks, but her smile stayed composed and playful.
Azrael: "Get off."
She tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eyes.
Violette: "You were the one trying to attack me so suddenly. Isn't it normal for a frail woman like me to defend herself?"
Azrael: "Frail? You're in denial, old lady."
Violette's hands moved to his cheeks, pressing lightly, and she leaned close, her voice a soft whisper near his ear:
Violette: "I'm not old."
She pulled back slightly, a faint smile on her lips.
Violette: "I'm only in my thirties, you know."
Azrael's pulse raced, cheeks burning. The proximity, her teasing, the subtle warmth of her presence—it was overwhelming.
She released his wrists fully and stepped back to her chair, crossing her legs elegantly, her posture composed, yet the faintest blush betrayed her amusement.
Azrael slowly sat up, trying to process everything. His thoughts tangled, heart still racing. I should push her away… why can't I?
Violette: "You're very tense," she said lightly, her tone teasing. "And you, my poor one, so stressed and closed off… if you let love conquer you, you'd open up so much more."
Azrael blinked, processing her words. He was still flushed, his body subtly reacting to her presence.
Azrael: "For someone who talks about love… you didn't look like an expert a moment ago."
Her eyes widened slightly, a faint smile tugged at her lips. Then her playful tone sharpened.
Violette: "You little delinquent. Is that how you thank the person helping you?"
A brief silence passed, long enough for Azrael to feel the odd warmth of mutual amusement. He allowed himself a small, subtle smile, and to his surprise, she returned it—softly, genuine, not teasing.
Azrael felt his pulse slow. The unsettling heat in his chest ebbed slightly, replaced by curiosity and cautious respect.
Violette: "I'm taking you under my wing. You'll be enrolled in the Academy!"
His mind skipped a beat. She said it plainly, almost daring him to react.
Azrael: "This… seems suspicious. And if I refuse? What would you do?"
She reclined slightly, smiling faintly, amused.
Violette: "You won't refuse."
Azrael let out a quiet exhale, nodding.
Azrael: "Indeed. And the price for such a favor?"
Violette's gaze lingered, teasing but unreadable. She leaned in subtly, close enough to catch his eyes, and whispered with a playful wink:
Violette: "It's a secret!"
Azrael frowned slightly, trying to calm his racing thoughts. She leaned back into her chair, regaining composure, the faintest warmth lingering in her violet eyes.
After a pause, Azrael narrowed his eyes, still flushed and unsettled.
Azrael: "You're suspicious, old lady."
Violette's lips curved into a faint, teasing smile. In a swift, fluid motion, her hand came up to his neck, tilting his chin gently. She leaned in just enough for her face to be close to his, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Violette: "Violette."
She straightened, stepping back gracefully, the faintest glint of amusement still in her violet eyes.
Violette: "And yours?"
Azrael opened his mouth to answer, but she interrupted lightly, her tone playful yet commanding:
Violette: "I have no obligation to tell you."
Azrael froze, caught off guard, brows furrowed.
Azrael: "…"
Violette smiled softly, almost warmly, as if the momentary teasing had passed.
Violette: "Alright, Azrael. Until next time. Regain your strength—tomorrow will be your first day at the Academy."
Her voice carried certainty, but also a hint of secret knowledge. Azrael remained on the bed, heart still racing, mind spinning. How… how does she know my name already?
The room felt quieter now, heavier, charged with the lingering heat of proximity, unspoken teasing, and the faintest hint of mystery. He slowly let out a breath, feeling the last traces of confusion fade.
Azrael sat up straighter, jaw set, determination replacing the unsettled tension. Tomorrow… my first day at the Academy. I'll face it. I'll make it through, no matter what.
His fists clenched lightly. The challenge ahead didn't intimidate him anymore—he was ready.