CHAPTER~27 THE REPLY
We went for light exercise, careful not to worsen our condition more than it already was.
Nothing strenuous. Nothing reckless. Just enough to keep the body honest.
Then—
A voice.
“Mr. Louis Casper.”
I froze.
Not because it was loud.
Because Neither my senses nor Lucan’s had noticed anyone approach.
Lucan turned first, hand already halfway to his side.
Behind us stood an old man.
Small. Almost fragile-looking. His back was slightly bent, posture giving the impression of weakness of old age.with deep lines carved by time His clothes were plain, forgettable.he had an Brown square glasses
And yet—
He smiled.
Bright. Warm. Entirely out of place.
“I hope this old man is not interrupting,” the old man said lightly, hands clasped behind his back.
Hmm
"Sir"
"who are you"
Lucan shifted closer to me, tension coiling tight.
Before either of he could speak, footsteps approached measured, unhurried.
Another presence had arrived.
“…why are you here,” a woman said.
I turned.
The Black Demon stood a short distance away.
No aura flared. No pressure pressed down.
The old man smiled at her like a grandfather indulging a stubborn child.
“You walk too loudly these days,” he said mildly.
She scoffed. “And you still enjoy appearing where you shouldn’t.”
Her gaze moved to me.
Then back to him.
“For clarity,” she said flatly, as if announcing the weather,
“this man is my father.”
The words hit harder than any aura ever could.
Lucan’s breath caught.
I felt it then why neither of us had sensed him.
The old man adjusted his brown, square framed glasses, smile never fading.
“Cedran Rowan Williams,” he said, inclining his head slightly.
“I raised this little cutie.”
Neither Lucan nor I commented on that. Iris and Aria, training in the background, pretend they didn't hear a thing.
He looked at me without assessing my strength.
“How can I help you?” I asked.
“I just needed to meet you,” he said, voice gentle. “So when I saw a letter addressed to your name, I took the initiative.”
“The reply came? That fast?” I muttered under my breath.
“What letter?” Lucan asked, brow furrowed.
I shrugged casually. “From my house.”
I opened it.
It was the same letter I had sent… but two words had been added: “Request Granted.”
A clean, simple seal completed it.
Whoo.
That it.....
Ahh.
I had hoped just once they’d ask why. Why I wanted it. Why I needed to make that choice. I needed them to see the weight I carried.
But no one did.
Not a single word.
And somehow, that silence… it burned louder than any confrontation ever could.
I felt foolish for spending days agonizing over every word.
Because… for me this wasn’t victory. Or defeat.
It was acknowledgment. A quiet, aching proof I had to give myself. That I had finally chosen the life I wanted, on my terms.
“They approved it… really fast,” I unknowingly murmured to myself.
Lucan blinked, confusion sharpening his features. “Approved? What… approved what?”
I held up the letter. “The… family disownment request.”
Lucan froze mid-step, his hand twitching as if he wanted to grab the words themselves. His eyes widened, and for a moment, all his usual composure vanished.
“What?” His voice was low, sharp, disbelieving.
“Yup,” I said, voice calm but resolute. “From today onwards… I am just Louis.”
Time seemed to pause.
Lucan’s jaw tightened
Iris blinked, pale fingers curling around her water bottle. For once, no teasing remark, no sly grin.
Aria, training nearby, stopped mid-motion. Crimson hair swayed as she turned her head, her expression unreadable. Then her lips twitched, just barely
Eldra Williams, the Black Demon herself, stepped closer. Her usual icy poise remained, but her amber eyes soften
Her father, Cedran Rowan Williams, adjusted his brown, square glasses, a slow, warm smile spreading across his lined face. “Well now… look at you,” he said, voice soft and affectionate. “Always full of surprises, aren’t you?”
He inclined his head slightly, eyes crinkling with genuine fondness, as if seeing a favorite grandchild after a long absence. “Keep walking your path, Louis. I’ll be here, quietly cheering.”
The room held its breath.
And in that moment, amidst disbelief, quiet awe, and subtle acknowledgment, the weight of the name Casper lifted from me entirely.
I was Louis. And nothing no legacy,
Just an orphan commoner
I had reached the level one once again.
***
The four of us finished our training and headed for breakfast.
Iris held the letter between her fingers, eyes narrowing. “Request… granted. That’s it? He just allowed it? Without asking a single reason? Who the hell is he?”
Her voice pitched higher, frustration bubbling over. “This is so… infuriating!”
I couldn’t help but smirk, and she shot me a glare that could melt steel.
“Why are you so calm about this?” she demanded, throwing her hands up.
"Because i am the one request it"
Lucan let out a low whistle. “Well… that’s one way to shake things up.”
Aria, ever unreadable, simply tilted her head, crimson hair swaying, and muttered, “He really doesn’t care anything"
Iris groaned, tossing the letter onto the table. “I can’t believe it. Just… allowed. No questions. Nothing.”
The letter sat there, innocuous, but somehow heavier than any sword, any spell, any reprimand we’d faced before.
By noon, the academy felt… wrong.
Not louder.
Not quieter.
Just tilted.
Whispers slipped through corridors like drafts under closed doors. Conversations stopped when I passed. Resumed a heartbeat later. Softer, sharper.
“Did you hear—” “Casper—” “no, really, he did it ”
I didn’t need to listen closely. Rumors carried themselves.
Some said I’d been disowned after offending the family head.
Others claimed I’d committed some unforgivable taboo.
A few insisted I’d traded my name for elite rank.
One version had me kneeling.
Another had me smiling.
By afternoon, the academy’s balance had subtly shifted.
A pair of third-years stopped talking when I passed, eyes flicking to my collar empty now, deliberately plain.
One of them frowned, as if something about the absence irritated him.
I felt lighter.
Not relieved. Not happy..
Lucan noticed it too. He walked half a step behind me, not guarding, not guiding just there. His presence was steady, grounding, like a shadow that chose to remain.
“You’re aware,” he said quietly as we crossed the outer courtyard, “that some people are going to see this as weakness.”
“I know,” I replied.
“And others,” he continued, “will see it as provocation.”
I glanced at him. “Good.”
I found myself back at the training grounds by habit alone. The same place where effort spoke louder than ancestry. Where sweat erased surnames.
A few students were already there. Some glanced up when I arrived. Some didn’t bother hiding it.
That’s when the fragments began aligning into something sharper.
A laugh.
Not loud. Not cruel.
Casual.
“So that’s him?”
He stepped forward from the group, tall and polished, uniform immaculate. Gold threaded crest at his collar
A third year senior.
“The one who threw away his nobility.”
The words weren’t accusation.
They were curiosity.
I turned fully this time.
He studied me from toe to head.
“…You know,” he said, tone conversational, “when people said you were impressive, I assumed it was because of your blood.”
A few students shifted. No one interrupted.
He smiled faintly, almost apologetic.
“But without it?” A light shrug. “You’re nothing.”
The word hung in the air longer than it deserved to.
Not an insult meant to provoke. Not a challenge meant to be answered with force.
Just a conclusion.
A few students shifted. No one interrupted.
He smiled faintly, almost apologetic.
“But without it?” A light shrug. “You’re nothing.”
The word hung in the air.
Nothing.
Not a misunderstanding.
Not curiosity.
A hook.
He wanted a reaction. A step forward. A spark anything that would justify what came next.
He was a Third year senior
So I did the only thing I should do.
I looked away.
Not dismissively. Not in retreat.
I simply turned my head and addressed the instructor at the edge of the grounds.
“Sir,” I said clearly, raising my hand, “may I switch to the south ring?”
The pause was immediate.
Confusion rippled through the watching students. A few brows furrowed. Someone let out a quiet, surprised laugh.
The third-year stiffened. “Oi—”
“I’m done with this set,” I continued calmly.
Silence hit harder than any insult.
The instructor blinked, then nodded slowly. “Granted.”
I picked up my towel and walked past the senior without slowing.
No glare. No threat.
Just absence.
Behind me, I felt it the shift. Not in mana. In attention.
He’d come to provoke a fight.
What he got was irrelevance.
And in a place built on pride, that cut deeper than any blade.
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[SYSTEM MESSAGE]
Query detected.
“My lady… are you scared?”
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No i am smart
