CHAPTER~26
The bell rang.
Not loud. Not dramatic. Just a soft chime that signaled the end of philosophy and the beginning of something heavier.
Chairs shifted. Books closed. Conversations restarted in low, uncertain tones, like no one quite trusted their own voice yet.
The words Lioren had left behind didn’t fade; they settled. Sank deep. The kind that stayed whether you wanted them to or not.
Lucan stood slowly beside me, stretching his shoulder with a faint wince.
Around us, people were careful. Not avoiding me. Not crowding me. Just… aware. Like they’d realized I wasn’t loud danger
Aria passed without a word, crimson hair swaying as she walked. She didn’t look at me.The promise from last night still stood between us, unspoken and unbroken.
At the front of the room, Lioren erased the board with slow, deliberate movements. For a brief second before leaving, his eyes met mine again.
No smile this time.
Just a warning.
***
That night, the dorm was silent.
No laughter from the halls. No footsteps passing by.
Just the soft scratch of a pen against paper and the steady rhythm of my breathing.
I was writing a letter.
Not a confession.
Not a plea.
A request.
A formal notice to sever all ties with the Casper family.
I paused halfway through my name, ink pooling slightly at the tip of the pen.
I had thought about this longer than i needed
I had income now real income, earned, not granted out of obligation. I had people who stood beside me, not because they shared blood, but because they chose to. And above all… I had been seen.
Noticed.
The Black Demon herself had noticed me.
No one could quietly erase me from this academy anymore. Not without her knowing. Not without consequence.
The name Casper offered me nothing but weight.
Terrible memories. Cold rooms. Colder eyes.
I was born with a mark no one ever let me forget.
To my mother, I was proof of a betrayal she never chose to forgive.
To my sister, the reason our home was always breaking apart.
To my father, a mistake that breathed.
To my brother a stain that should never have shared his name.
I was never a son.
I was an explanation.
A reminder.
Something endured rather than loved.
Something born of lust,
and raised without love.
When the lid closed, something inside him loosened.
Not relief.
Not joy.
Freedom’s quieter cousin.
Outside, footsteps approached.
Lucan leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. “You done?”
Louis nodded.
Lucan studied him for a second, then grinned faintly. “Good. Training starts in ten.”
Louis stood.
“Let’s go,” he said.
And for the first time, he did not carry the weight of a name that had never been his to begin with.
***
Next day breakfast at Casper's manor.
Sunlight filtered through tall arched windows, catching on polished silverware and porcelain plates arranged with ceremonial precision. Servants moved soundlessly, as if noise itself were a sin in this house
Seraphina Casper ate quietly. Dark crimson hair fell over one eye, the other watching everything without seeming to. She never spoke first at breakfast.
Ti her left, Luneria Casper sat, composed…”
as ever but her eyes flicked subtly toward everything around her, taking in details most would miss.
At its head sat Edric Casper.
His presence alone bent the air. Not aggressively never that. His aura was calm, steady, dense.
The kind forged through decades of battle and discipline. A warrior who had survived wars and walked away with his spine straight and his blade clean.
To strangers, he was gentle. To allies, dependable. To the world, admirable.
Until someone stabbed him from behind.
Or until that name was spoken.
Butler hesitated near Edric’s side, then spoke softly.
“My lord… a letter arrived this morning. Addressed to the family head.”
Edric nodded without looking up. “Leave it.”
The letter was placed beside his plate.
Thick parchment. Formal seal. Clean handwriting.
Seraphina’s eyes flicked toward it for half a second just long enough to recognize the crest pressed into the wax.
Her fingers tightened around her teacup.
Edric finished cutting his food before reaching for the letter. He broke the seal calmly. Too calmly. His eyes moved across the page once.
Then—
The aura changed.
The warmth drained from the room as if someone had closed a door on the sun. The air grew heavy, suffocating. Luneria’s fork paused mid-air. Even the servants froze.
Edric read the letter again.
Slowly.
Edric folded the letter.
Once.
Precisely.
He placed it back on the table beside his plate.
“Louis Casper,” he said, voice even, controlled, “has formally requested to sever all ties with this family.”
The words landed without force.
They didn’t need it.
Luneria’s fork slipped from her fingers.
She was stunned
Edric continued, as if announcing a change in household accounts.
“I will allow it.”
That was when Luneria froze.
Not stiffened stopped.
Her shoulders locked. Her breath caught halfway in. The composure she wore so carefully cracked, just a little, just enough to show something raw underneath.
Sever… ties?
Seraphina’s teacup rattled faintly as she set it down.
“…What?” she asked, too quickly.
Edric did not look at her.
“He is relinquishing the Casper name. Any claim, protection, or obligation tied to it. Effective immediately.”
Luneria’s eyes widened.
For the first time that morning, she looked directly at her father.
“…He can’t,” she said quietly, the words barely there. Not angry. Not pleading.
Stunned.
Her fingers curled slowly against the tablecloth, knuckles whitening. The realization settled not that Louis was leaving.
But that he already had.
Seraphina stood.
“No,” she said, composure cracking for the first time. “You can’t decide something like that without, without asking why.”
That was when Edric turned.
Slowly.
His gaze met hers, and whatever gentleness the world believed he carried was nowhere to be found.
“Do not,” he said quietly, “try to become his mother now.”
The words were not raised.
They were worse.
Seraphina flinched.
“You were the one,” Edric continued, voice still level, “who wished most fervently that he would disappear.”
Her lips parted. No sound came out.
"You despised him and made sure that he knows that"
“You asked the gods for silence where his footsteps were"
He looked back at the letter.
“He has granted that wish.”
Luneria’s breath finally escaped her in a shallow exhale.
Her gaze dropped to her plate untouched, forgotten.
Not anger.
Loss.
Edric rose from his seat.
“There will be no pursuit. No coercion. No attempt to reclaim him,” he said. “The Casper family will honor this request.”
He paused.
“Because for the first time,” he added, almost to himself, “the boy has chosen something clever.”
Then he left the table.
The sunlight still streamed through the windows.
The food was still warm.
But Luneria did not take another bite.
And the manor had lost something it would never admit it needed.
The manor did not recover after Edric left.
Servants resumed their duties, but the rhythm was wrong too careful,
too quiet. Plates were cleared without clatter. Chairs were pushed in without sound.
Even the fire in the hearth seemed to burn lower, as if aware it was no longer welcome to be loud.
Seraphina remained standing.
Her hands were clenched at her sides now, nails biting into her palms.
She did not sit back down. She did not follow Edric.
For the first time in years, she didn’t know what to do.
Luneria stayed where she was, gaze unfocused, staring at nothing. The place where Louis’s chair should have been empty for years,
yet suddenly very present pulled at her attention like a wound she hadn’t known was open.
***
That night, Louis did not dream.
Sleep came clean and empty, like sinking into deep water without resistance.
When he woke, it was before the bell, before the academy stirred, before the world remembered it existed.
He sat up slowly and placed a hand over his chest.
No pressure.
No faint, instinctive dread tied to a name he no longer carried.
Just a steady heartbeat.
He moved through his morning routine with deliberate care. Washed. Dressed. Checked his notes twice.
Counted his coin once more not because he needed to, but because he could. Every motion was his, unobserved and unquestioned.
Then he smiled.
Not wide. Not proud.
But real.
The bell would ring soon.
Classes would resume. Teachers would speak. The academy would continue pretending it was neutral.
That was fine.
He wasn’t free yet.
But for the first time, he was prepared to be.
Louis exhaled once, steady and controlled, then stepped into the corridor as the first bell began to ring no longer as a boy carrying a name, but as someone walking forward without one.
The air felt lighter with every step.
For the first time, the future did not feel borrowed.
