Chapter 65: Worry
The next morning, Azael woke up as if nothing had happened the night before.
He lay still for a moment, blinking at the ceiling. Then he shifted. Stretched. Waited for the pain to hit.
It didn’t.
He sat up slowly and looked down at himself. The bandages were still wrapped around his torso and arms, but beneath them his body felt completely normal. There was no aching or any burning. No deep soreness from wounds that should have taken days to close.
He pressed a hand carefully against his ribs.
He let out a low breath of disbelief.
He had no idea what kind of potions or medicines Liona had used on him. Whatever they were, they had done in a single night what should have taken a week. He made a mental note to never take her shop lightly again.
He unwrapped the bandages, got dressed, and headed out of his room.
The hallway was quiet in the early morning. Cool light came through the tall windows, falling in long pale strips across the stone floor. He walked with his hands loose at his sides, heading toward the training ground.
"Azael~"
He stopped.
Turned around.
Coming down the hallway toward him was Liana. She was wearing a dark midnight-colored gown, her steps light and quick. A very familiar mischievous expression was already playing on her face before she even reached him.
"Oh, Liana. Good morning."
She stopped in front of him with her arms crossed and her head tilted, looking up at him with the particular expression she reserved for when she had been worried about something and had decided to be annoyed about it instead.
"Where were you yesterday?" she asked. "Do you have any idea how worried everyone was? How worried *I* was?"
Azael smiled quietly.
"I’m sorry for making everyone worry," he said. "It won’t happen again."
She held the annoyed expression for another moment. Then let it go slightly, replacing it with something more casual and a little too deliberate.
"Hehe. You’d better not." She tilted her head. "Do you know how worried big sister Arista was? Out of everyone in this house, I think she was the most worried." A small pause. "I honestly don’t think she would have been that worried if it were *me* who was missing."
Azael raised an eyebrow at that.
*Arista was that worried?* He filed that away quietly. *I should go see her.*
"Don’t say that," he said. "I’m sure she would have been just as worried if it were you."
Liana clicked her tongue and shook her head firmly.
"Tch. That’s not true. She’s been getting far too close to you lately." She said it like a small complaint, directed at no one in particular. Then she sighed through her nose and the annoyance faded out of her face completely, leaving something simpler behind.
"Anyway. I’m glad you’re okay."
Azael looked at her for a moment.
Then he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her.
One hand came up and patted her head, slow and easy, the way someone does when they’re not thinking about it too hard.
"Thank you for worrying about me, my dear little sister~"
There was a beat of total silence.
Then Liana went rigid.
Her cheeks flushed a vivid red. She stood completely still for exactly one second, stiff as a board inside the hug, with her arms stuck at her sides and her eyes wide.
Then she shoved him back with both hands.
"H-hey!" She took a step back and pointed at him. "What do you think you’re doing?! Don’t just hug people out of nowhere!"
Azael blinked at her innocently.
She jabbed her finger at him again. "And what’s this *little sister* business?! We are the same age!"
He watched her reaction with a quiet smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
*Her reaction is cute,* he thought. *Is this what it feels like to have a younger sister? No wonder older brothers enjoy teasing them so much.*
"If I remember correctly," he said calmly, "I was born a few months before you."
"Two months!" She held up two fingers directly in front of his face. "*Two months!* That is basically nothing! So don’t you dare call me little sister. Hmph!"
She crossed her arms and turned her chin up slightly. The flush on her cheeks had not faded in the slightest.
Azael considered her for a moment.
"You know," he said thoughtfully, "I’ve always wanted a cute younger sister."
Her eye twitched.
"So how about this." He smiled. Bright and completely serious. "You call me big brother. Or big bro, if you prefer. Either works for me."
Liana stared at him.
For a full three seconds she simply stared.
"What is wrong with you," she said flatly. "Are you actually serious right now? No way I will call you big brother!"
"Hehe, okay, okay. As you say." Liana tilted her head with a playful grin. "So where are you off to?"
"The library. I want to learn some new spells."
"Ha!" She let out a bright laugh, crossing her arms. "My little sister is such a hard worker. I mean it — I know one day you’ll become an amazing mage."
"Y-you called me little sister again?" Her voice dropped. "Azael... I warned you. How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"
She said it with a deeply flushed expression, her brows knitting together in embarrassment and irritation.
"Oh?" Azael tilted his head with an innocent look. "And what if I simply don’t want to stop? What if I enjoy calling you my cute little sister?"
Her jaw tightened. She clenched her teeth, clearly fighting the urge to snap back at him. But then something shifted, her eyes widened slightly, as if a thought had just surfaced from the back of her mind. A slow, dangerous smile crept across her lips.
"Hehe." She let out a quiet, deliberate laugh. "Is that so? Well then... if you don’t stop, I’ll walk straight to mother and tell her that you’ve been trying to make Isabel your lover."
The color drained from Azael’s face.
"What?! Hey! Liana, don’t you dare. Don’t even think about it." He took a step forward, then stopped himself. "Fine. Fine! I won’t call you that anymore. Just please don’t say a single word to mother."
Liana slowly raised one hand and ran her fingers through her long, silky blonde hair. The proud smirk on her face said everything.
"So," she said smoothly, "you finally understand what it truly means to go against me."
She straightened up and smoothed the front of her dress with quiet elegance.
"Anyway, I’ll be off now. I have places to be."
She turned on her heel and walked away, the sharp click of her heels ringing against the polished marble floor in a steady, confident rhythm. Her long hair swayed behind her, and the natural sway of her wide hips gave her an almost regal air as she disappeared down the hall.
Azael stood there for a moment, staring at the empty corridor.
He let out a long breath and shook his head. "That girl..."
Pushing the thought aside, he turned and made his way toward the training hall. The hallways were quiet this early, the morning light cutting through the tall windows in long golden strips across the floor.
When he pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside, he found Arista already there.
She stood near the center of the room in the middle of her stretching routine, one arm raised above her head, her body arched slightly to the side.
She was wearing a fitted black sports bra and tight black training pants that hugged the lines of her athletic figure. Her long red hair was pulled back into a high ponytail that swayed gently with each movement.
She looked focused. Completely in her own world.
Azael stepped further into the room, letting the door close behind him with a soft thud. That was enough.
Arista’s head snapped in his direction. The moment her eyes landed on him, something changed in her expression relief. She dropped her stretching posture and strode toward him with quick, purposeful steps.
Azael raised his hand with a casual wave and opened his mouth to greet her.
He never got the chance.
Before a single word could leave his lips, she reached out, grabbed his face with both hands, and pulled it firmly into her breasts, burying him completely in her soft, warm curves. Her arms wrapped around the back of his head, holding him there as she pulled him into a tight, fierce embrace.
"Where were you?" Her voice came out low and tight, muffled slightly by emotion. "If you’re going somewhere, anywhere you tell me first. Do you understand? You had me worried sick, you idiot."
Her arms tightened further around him. He could feel the strength behind it, the kind of grip that came from genuine fear finally releasing itself.
His bones groaned under the pressure. Yet despite that, all he was aware of was the warmth pressing against his face and the steady, rapid beat of her heart.
He let out a muffled sound against her chest, squirming just enough to signal that he couldn’t breathe.
A pause. Then, slowly, she loosened her grip and let him pull back.
He straightened up, blinking, drawing in a full breath of air.
"Oh! sorry." Arista pressed her lips together and offered a small, slightly embarrassed smile. "I got too emotional."
"It’s alright," Azael said, adjusting himself. "And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you."
She searched his face for a moment, then gave a short nod.
"Okay. As long as you’re fine..." She exhaled slowly. "Then everything is fine."
A brief silence settled between them. The comfortable kind, easy and familiar.
Then her expression shifted.
Her eyes narrowed. Not in anger but in focus. She stared at him the way she stared at an opponent before a spar, reading every detail carefully.
Slowly, she reached up and cupped his face in both hands, tilting it slightly toward the light.
"You look different," she said quietly.
"What do you mean? I look exactly the same."
She shook her head without hesitation. "No. You don’t. You got more handsome. Since yesterday." A small crease formed between her brows. "In one night. How?"
Azael opened his mouth to argue, but she had already moved on.
Her hand dropped from his face and pressed flat against his abdomen. She held it there, still and focused, her eyes distant for just a moment as if she were listening to something he couldn’t hear.
Then her eyes went wide.
Her hand froze.
"You..." She stared at him. "You broke through to a red core."