The moon was high above the sky. Below, the sound of city traffic was loud—car horns, dogs barked, and some occasional silent pause of peace in the night.
Inside a cramped apartment on the fifth floor, it was quiet. Suddenly, a loud knock slammed the door—KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
A groan came out from a bed in the middle. The man lying there slowly cracked one of his eyes open. His curly hair strands were sticking in every direction. With a wrinkled shirt, one sleeve half off his arm, he wore an expression "Who the hell is it?"
He eyed the clock and was immediately shocked. "Eleven fifty-five in the freakin' evening?" His voice was hoarse. "Who's knocking at this hour…?"
Another knock. Louder this time. Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Coming, coming!" He muttered, dragging himself upright with difficulty. His brain screamed for sleep. But went up to his door anyway.
"Young Master Laze… open up, please."
Lazry froze. "Huh?" His eyes narrowed and recognized it instantly.
He unlocked the door, the latch clicked softly, and opened it just a crack.
Outside, a man was standing politely still, dressed in an impeccable black suit, white gloves, and a hat polished enough to reflect moonlight. His hair was slicked back, and his face was calm, dignified, and annoyingly familiar.
"Winston?" Lazry asked, not even rubbing his eyes. "How in the nine hells did you find me here?"
The butler—Winston—smiled faintly, bowing his head with that old-fashioned politeness Lazry had grown up with. "I, Winston, have some… connections, young master. It was not difficult."
Lazry sighed. "Right, you tracked me down and instead of coming tomorrow, you came in the middle of the night to brag about your connections?"
"Not quite," Winston said, nodding politely, trying to act humble. "I came to take you back, young master. Tomorrow is the family gathering. It is a very important one. A certain talented member of the Lycannis Family has successfully summoned the Legendary Nine-Tailed Demon Fox!"
Suddenly, the air became heavier as soon as he mentioned that.
Not realizing what happened, Winston continued. "And since young master Lazry has come of age, it is also time for you to meet the young ladies of other families! Prospective allies! Future pillars of the Curse Conjurer world!"
Lazry's expression darkened with each word.
But Winston didn't notice—or maybe he did and chose to ignore it. He went on with the enthusiasm of a salesman trying to sell the last product on earth.
"Ah, there's Lady Elara from the Nightweaver Clan! She tamed a cursed serpent that devours its own shadow, quite a spectacle, I assure you! You will like her!!"
Lazry's eye twitched.
"And oh! Lady Rina of the Solbrand family—radiant girl, they say her Flame Hound can melt even ghost steel…"
Yada- yada- yada-
As the list went on and on, Lazry's face completely transformed. When Winston finally paused for breath, Lazry's face had turned into an impressive shade of stormy gray.
"Are you done?" Lazry asked flatly.
Winston blinked, a little startled. "Young master?"
"I said," Lazry said, voice low, "are you done?"
Winston straightened, clearing his throat. "Ahem… well, yes. For now." He gave a small, hopeful smile. "So, shall we go? I don't know why you chose to hide here in an apartment of all places, but it's not my business. However, tomorrow young master, you must attend! Meeting the young ladies will do you good—"
"No," Lazry cut in.
"No?" Winston echoed, blinking.
Lazry turned away, heading back inside. "I'm not going."
"B-but why, young master? You—"
"Because," Lazry said quietly, "my talent is too weak for those girls."
Winston's smile paused, but he quickly recovered, awkwardly trying to chuckle. "Come now, young master Lazry. You are the son of one of the strongest people in this world! Your mother—the Moon Devourer herself! Your name is enough to open any door!"
Lazry smirked bitterly. "Even if she is my mother… it's not enough."
Winston tried to laugh it off. "Oh, come on, young master Laze, you must be joking again—"
But Lazry's expression didn't move. His tone was calm. Too calm. "What if I told you that I was the one who summoned the Legendary Nine-Tailed Demon Fox?"
The hallway fell silent. The only sound was the faint hum of a flickering light bulb.
Winston froze, his mouth half-open.
Lazry stepped closer, his eyes glinting faintly under the pale hallway light. "You know I'm not the type to joke about this. I might not be talented, but I never stopped training. Day after day. Year after year. You've seen me, haven't you?"
Winston nodded weakly. "Y-yes, young master, of course, I—"
"Do you know why I kept training?" Lazry interrupted. His voice trembled—not from fear, but from something heavier. "Because I wanted a miracle. Just one. So I wouldn't be the family's joke anymore. So that she—my mother—would finally look at me not with disappointment, but pride."
He laughed softly, but it was hollow, bitter. "And somehow… it happened. I summoned it. The legendary Nine-Tailed Demon Fox. The creature that even High Conjurers dream of binding. It answered me."
He ran a hand through his hair, his voice growing more emotional, more alive as he spoke. "Yesterday, I was so happy, Winston. You don't understand. I thought—this is it! This is the day I stop being the weak one, the mistake, the forgotten son! I laughed, I cried—I even thanked the moon for not giving up on me!"
But then his expression darkened, the words slowing, twisting. "And then… guess what they did."
Winston didn't move.
Lazry's lips curved into a tired smile. "The elders said my weak talent would only waste the potential of the demon fox. So they stripped it from me. Forcibly. They said the bond was still fresh, that the timing was perfect."
"Impossible!" Winston blurted. "Young master, your mother—"
"Right," Lazry said sharply. "My mother."
Winston's voice dimmed.
Lazry's laugh was cold, small, and painful. "You know what she said when they took my fox? She said, 'Faster.' And she let them give it to someone they believed was more worthy."
He leaned back against the doorframe, staring at nothing. "I looked at her, Winston. I looked at her and thought, I'm just a bug to her. They didn't even care that stripping a freshly summoned curse beast could backlash on the conjurer. They kicked me out. And now—"
He raised his right hand, the faint marks of a broken summoning sigil still burned into his skin. "Now I can't summon any curse beast ever again."
Winston's eyes trembled. "Young master…"
Lazry smiled faintly, his eyes glassy. "You think I matter to her just because she's strong? Just because I share her name? No, Winston. I don't matter at all."
He turned his back and stepped inside the apartment. "Now, please. Let me rest. When I'm ready… I'll call you."
Soon, he pulled the door and closed it with a loud thud!
For a moment, he didn't hear anything. Not even movement. Finally, after a few seconds, he heard Winston saying, I apologize, young master. For disturbing you. I will take my leave. Please… call if you ever need anything."
After that, the silence returned.
Lazry stood there for a long moment, staring at the floor. His chest felt hollow, but at the same time, he felt… surprisingly relieved. Relieved that he said the things in his head to someone.
Slowly, he walked back to his bed and collapsed face-first onto the pillow.
The years of training. The laughter of the elders. His mother's sharp and cold voice.
He had tried so hard to earn her recognition. He had endured all the mockery, the comparisons behind his back, and all the whispers. But he… he still kept going.
He remembered the nights he had nearly fainted from exhaustion, forcing himself to conjure up ideas again and again just to prove to her that he was someone who would never give up easily.
After all, Lazry had listened to her advice: "As long as you keep going, nothing is impossible." He had taken that to heart.
And now, without power, what was he? Nothing.
He laughed weakly into the pillow and looked up. "Guess that's that."
He had truly given up and lazed around doing nothing all day for the first time…
Yes… For the first time, he felt peace. He felt relaxed and didn't have to prove himself anymore. If only he could stay this way forever… it would truly be a gift…
Then—
Beep… beep…
His watch glowed faintly. Lazry turned his head to the clock. "Huh?"
12:00 AM.
He sighed and decided to close his eyes. "A new day, yet I'm still tired…"
Ding!
Lazry's eyes opened up fast.
What greeted him was something he could explain. A glowing blue screen shimmering in the dark. It floated mid-air like an eldritch being.
[ Congratulations… you did nothing today. ]
[ AFK System Activated! ]
[ Reward: 4 Levels of Curse Mana will be skipped… ]
Lazry's eyes widened as a warm surge flooded his body. His fingers trembled.
"H-hold on—this feeling…!"
His curse core pulsed, swelling with impossible density. The stagnant third stage he'd been stuck at for years snapped, shattered, then slowly… It climbed. Fourth. Fifth. Sixth, until it reached the Seventh stage as a Curse Beast Conjurer.
A sharp breath tore out of him. "Oh shit… oh shit—! This—this isn't normal! No one jumps four stages in seconds!"
His heart pounded. His mind raced. For the first time since losing everything… he felt power again.
Suddenly, there was a loud knock.
Lazry froze. "Winston—Again!?"
He pushed himself up from bed, and was about to scold him to leave.
Yet Boom! The entire door exploded inward, wood fragments flying across the room.
He saw three silhouettes stepping through the settling cloud. Broad shoulders. Masks covering their faces. And a suffocating presence.
Their eyes locked onto Lazry.
His heartbeat throbbed painfully. "You—"
His throat tightened.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
"Who," Lazry demanded, voice low, "are all of you…?"