Sunlight illuminated the bland room through the closed window. A black cat leisurely lay on the windowsill, its tail swaying back and forth.
Cyril slowly raised his body and vaguely stared into the distance, coming back to the world of the living.
A butterfly flew in the air from his head, circling in place.
This night he dreamed of a peculiar place, a cafe with plenty of cats inside. It was a haven of pure relaxation, where worries practically melted away.
I dreamt of that after yesterday…?
He sighed, glancing at a black cat sitting on the windowsill.
"It's a good dream." Rhamn shrugged near him.
Then her shoulders slumped a little as a dark cloud began gathering above her.
"A pity we'll never expand our family any more and won't get to experience such a delight..."
Cyril switched his tired gaze to her.
I didn't say we'll never do it, just later. We are in my family's house still.
"So you don't mind after all!"
Rhamn immediately lost her sulkiness, regaining the whole of her passionate spirit.
Cyril could only blankly stare at her mood changes.
You knew it already, you can read my thoughts...
"It feels better this way."
"..."
He decided to ignore her.
"Good morning, Morpho."
The butterfly made a loop in the air and landed on his shoulder.
Cyril slowly got on his feet and stretched.
Suddenly the cat hissed loudly, jumping away from the window as a tick came from the glass.
"...?"
Cyril cautiously observed for a second and made a step closer.
Just then a small pebble flew into the window, bringing another tick.
Confused Cyril looked outside, at the source.
What the...
"What is she doing here!?"
Outside was a garden, its colorful flowers and tall trees meticulously tended by a small number of servants.
On top of one of those trees, directly opposite the window, crouched Myra, a few pebbles in her hand.
Noticing his gaze, she froze mid-throw, her auburn hair blowing in the wind for a moment.
Cyril opened the window. The black cat escaped through it onto the tree, quickly bypassing Myra, it disappeared somewhere unseen.
"What are you doing here?"
Cyril crossed his arms and calmly eyed his classmate. The butterfly on his shoulder fluttered her wings in greeting.
Myra let the pebbles drop on the ground and sheepishly waved.
"Hi, it's already this late, but you weren't back in the academy. I got a bit worried."
"How does she even know where you live or which window of this mansion is yours!?"
Cyril ignored the angry muttering by his side and glanced at the clock.
"I'll come out in a bit. Then we'll talk."
Myra gave a thumbs up and quickly jumped from the tree.
Surrounded by faint winds, her jump took her all the way on top of the wall surrounding the mansion, where she dashed away.
Cyril observed her swift departure, then looked at the maid, who had been standing in the shadow of the tree for some time now.
Ophelia stared at the place Myra disappeared, her face expressionless but a certain coldness present in her dark eyes.
Noticing Cyril, she politely bowed and then walked away.
He stood there for a moment more, feeling the wind on his face.
A memory from yesterday surfaced in his mind.
Myra's hate-filled voice and a rain of blood from the sky.
'He is a demon after all.'
"..."
Cyril shook his head and stepped away, closing the window.
Let's see what she has to say, I am a bit curious.
"...We still need to interrogate her over how she knew about the demon invasion."
Accompanied by a butterfly and a red-eyed menace, Cyril began his preparations for the day.
...
Refreshed, Cyril walked down the corridor towards the main entrance.
As he got closer, a desperate voice grew stronger in his ears.
It's this again.
He massaged his temple and sped up, soon entering a spacious room.
On the floor hung a crystal chandelier. Right below it were two stairs leading to the first floor, where a peculiar picture greeted him.
Nostro Thorne, dressed in a luxurious white coat, coldly stared down at the man in a shabby suit kneeling down in front of him.
"Just give me another month. I almost succeeded!"
With palpable desperation the man pleaded, tears glistening in his eyes.
However, the coldness within Nostro's eyes remained unchanged.
"Get him out of here."
The butler standing at his side nodded. It was an old man with completely white hair, though his back was still perfectly straight.
In silence the old butler cast a spell, and an invisible hand soon caught the pleading man's collar.
"No, wait, please-"
Suddenly silenced, the man in a shabby suit was unceremoniously dragged away and thrown out of the doors.
There, two guards in black armor approached him, taking him somewhere else.
Nostro observed until the doors were shut back again, then switched to Cyril standing on the second floor.
Giving one long look, Nostro turned around.
"It was good to see you. Talk to Cornelius before you go."
With this he walked away, leaving the butler with white hair here.
"What a coward. Is he really not going to talk to you?"
Giving her a glance, Cyril walked down the stairs.
"What is it?"
Cornelius, the butler, politely bowed.
"Young Master, your father wanted you to know that Ophelia was relinquished of her duties in the mansion. She will join you in Ailanthus."
Cyril frowned at these words.
"I don't need a servant. Besides, Ailanthus doesn't allow them."
"Don't worry. She will officially work there as a cleaner."
The butler remained unperturbed.
Cyril only clicked his tongue and moved past the old butler.
"I see."
"It would be great to have a servant actually." Rhamn pinched her chin in contemplation.
"Though Ophelia is not a good choice, she probably wants to monitor us."
The butler followed him and opened the doors outside.
"Safe studies, Young Master."
Without replying, Cyril stepped into the courtyard of the mansion. The desperate man from before was nowhere to be seen, not even a trace.
Passing the garden, he reached the gates, where Ophelia stood with her hands in front of her.
On the road behind her stood a luxurious carriage without any horses.
Before she could open the carriage doors, Cyril moved his hand to stop her.
"Go without me. I have something to do first."
Ophelia froze, then turned to face him, in her eyes a spark of disappointment.
"As you wish, Master."
Without any further words, she climbed onto the driver's seat.
Soon, the wheels of the carriage began moving on their own, faster and faster, until the carriage turned into a blur, disappearing in the distance.
She'll probably do a slight detour before arriving.
Cyril mused while shaking his head.
"She is an archdemon but keeps calling you Master. Is she addicted to this role she is playing?"
"I mean, it's fitting. She is beneath us, but it's somewhat weird."
I don't know. Let's not think about this.
Giving a sigh, he turned around and walked along the road, observing his surroundings.
As he distanced himself from the mansion, a girl with auburn hair landed on his path.
Myra's black eyes vigilantly scanned their surroundings before walking up to him.
She looks a bit better today...
"Hmph! As resilient as a roach."
"Hey, Cyril. Your maid is tough. The Thorne family is really something..."
Myra sheepishly whispered, her tone cautious.
So she noticed her.
"That's Ophelia, she was the one who taught me the spear from a young age."
Myra's eyes widened as she pointed in the direction Ophelia drove away.
"Really? She doesn't look much older than us!?"
"..."
"She must be a really powerful mage."
"...Yeah." Cyril nodded, his blue eyes calmly looking at her.
Rhamn by his side mockingly glared at her.
"What did you want to ask me?"
Myra, her attention quickly switched, lowered her voice even further, beginning to fidget with a strand of her hair.
"This might seem weird... but do you want to come to my home?"
"No!"
Ignoring the angry exclamation by his side, Cyril narrowed his blue eyes, looking at her with scrutiny.
Myra met his gaze without flinching.