Denial—a psychological defense mechanism in which a person refuses to accept reality or facts.
It is a way for the mind to shield itself from truths too painful to face.
Denial manifests in different forms.
For some, it's the refusal to acknowledge addiction—a way to avoid confronting the need for change.
Others might deny the reality of a terminal illness—a way to evade the creeping fear of death.
And sometimes...
it's the denial of loss.
Of death.
Of someone deeply loved.
Jasmine still remembered when she first heard the news of Azriel's death.
She was in denial for weeks.
Unlike her father—who never accepted it at all.
Now, standing face-to-face with the person in front of her, she felt herself slipping into denial once more.
This couldn't be real.
This couldn't be her little brother.
'Even though two years have passed, and he certainly looks older… it can't be him.'
Because if it were…
Then how?
Why now?
'It could be a trick to deceive me…'
His birthday had been just yesterday.
And now, here he was? Appearing the day after?
No way.
A soft shimmer of white light bloomed over her right hand.
"Who are you?" she asked coldly, her voice slicing through the still air.
Even now, even as she stared at his face, her heart beat wildly in her chest.
Azriel blinked in surprise at her question. She could see the flicker of understanding in his eyes as he scratched his cheek.
"What, don't tell me you think I'm a skinwalker too?"
'Skinwalker...?'
She shook her head.
"No. With the security in EASC, especially today, there's no way a skinwalker could infiltrate the capital."
And she was confident in that.
It had happened before—skinwalkers slipping into cities.
But not today.
Not with this many Saints and Grandmasters patrolling every corner.
"So then… you must be—"
Before her sentence finished, she vanished from sight and reappeared in front of him in a blink.
Drip... drip...
A katana pressed against his neck. Blood trailed down his throat and stained the earth beneath them.
The blade, sleek and silver, gleamed like a mirror—
Silver Shine.
"—either here to kill or kidnap me."
Her words were met with silence.
The wind whispered between them, fluttering their hair.
She didn't flinch.
'Got him.'
His lack of response could only mean one thing—he was caught off guard.
She let a crack of a smile spread across her face.
"What? Cat got your tongue?"
He didn't react. His face was blank.
'Heh. And you used to mock me, brother, for watching all th—'
Her thoughts stopped abruptly.
His shoulders.
They were… trembling.
Ba-dump.
Her muscles tensed.
She pressed Silver Shine deeper against his neck. The blade bit deeper, drawing more blood.
Ba-dump.
Still, he didn't move. Didn't flinch.
That made her even more cautious.
'I can beat him… right? His aura doesn't feel strong at all.'
But if he was an assassin, a Master, he could easily be suppressing his presence—manipulating her senses.
She prepared to activate her unique skill—
And froze.
Because—
"Pffft! Hahahaha! Oh, I'm sorry—really, I tried to hold it in, but I just can't! Hahaha! What was it again? Me trying to kill or kidnap you?"
The blade pushed deeper as he stepped back, seemingly unfazed by the blood trickling from his neck.
Drip... drip...
Jasmine blinked.
'...Huh?'
She couldn't keep up.
Who laughs with a blade against their throat?
'Is he insane?'
She stared at him in disbelief as he wiped tears from the corners of his eyes.
Her lips twitched.
What the hell was so funny?
'Yeah. He's crazy. I should end this now.'
But just as she prepared to move, he spoke again.
"Don't tell me you're still watching those detective shows you were obsessed with?"
"Eh?"
She froze.
"Haaah… You really need to stop letting those shows mess with your thinking."
'…How does he know? Still watching? No... it can't be...'
'No. It just… can't be true.'
She didn't want to accept it.
But—
"I mean, think, sister."
He tapped his temples lightly.
"If I really came here to kill or kidnap you, would I be standing here, chatting with you like this?"
"I could've just waited until you were stuffing your face with junk food—that's when you're most vulnerable. Oh, and by the way… Dad probably knows about your new 'secret' spot and what you do here."
'H-Huh?! He knows?'
'No way... I've always been careful when I visited... Wait. Why am I even listening to him!?'
She shot him a glare—only to find him smirking back at her.
Mocking her.
"Haaah… Maybe I should've asked Solomon to come along. Or brought Uncle Ragnar."
Her eyes twitched.
'Solomon? As in... Saint Solomon? And Uncle Ragnar is here too?'
Ba-dump.
'I-If that's true… then...'
"I thought it would be better to have our little reunion without any prying eyes... But I guess that was impossible."
'Impossible...?'
Drip... drip...
"…Huh?"
She felt something wet trailing down her cheek. Something warm.
Azriel turned toward her again, eyes widening.
'Why is he looking at me like that?'
She was confused.
Why did her chest feel so heavy?
Raising her hands to her face, she felt the moisture on her fingertips.
"…Ah."
She understood.
She was crying.
"…Your body always reacted faster than your mind did," Azriel said softly.
When she looked up, he was smiling at her—gentle, real. The same boy she used to know.
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
"A-Azriel… Is it really you?"
Drip... drip...
"Mhm," he replied, voice calm.
"It me."
And that was all she needed.
Without thinking, she ran into him—threw her arms around him and held him tight.
Clank—!
Silver Shine fell to the stone path, forgotten.
Her tears soaked into his uniform, but she felt his arms wrap around her, holding her close, one hand gently stroking her hair.
"I-It really is you... brother."
"…Yeah. I'm back."