Chapter 347: Cookies and Confessions

"I’m dead... I’m so dead...!"

Jasmine paced the room, anxiety written all over her face as she repeated the words again and again.

Azriel, a cloth draped over his bare shoulders, lounged against the headboard with a plate of cookies in his lap, watching her with mild amusement. After more than half an hour of the same circuit, he finally spoke.

"Don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit? Where did all those years of etiquette lessons go? Calm down. Do you want one of my cookies?"

He held out a half-bitten cookie. Jasmine stopped, crossed her arms, and shot him a glare.

"I don’t want your cookies! You’re the one who hasn’t eaten properly all this time—eat them yourself before you starve to death!"

Azriel blinked at the scolding—sharp words wrapped in concern. In the end, he pulled the cookie back, took another bite, and chewed contentedly.

"What am I going to do...? When Dad finds out you were in the Forest of Eternity, he’ll—he’ll be furious..."

Her voice trembled. She pressed her hands to her head, eyes downcast. It was a rare side of her, one perhaps only Azriel would ever see.

"It’s not as if it was your fault I ended up in the Forest of Eternity," he said.

"I’m sure Dad will understand."

"You know he won’t!" she snapped, then faltered.

"He told me to babysit you—and I did the opposite. I thought you weren’t with us, but you were. I should have tried harder to find you. What I did is no better than ignoring his orders."

Azriel looked away.

’I suppose she has a point...’

Not about trying harder, but about Joaquin not understanding.

Everyone at EASC—and anyone tied to the Crimson clan—knew one truth: when Joaquin Crimson asked you to do something, you did it. If he expected something, you met those expectations, no matter how absurd. Whether it was killing a monarch as a mere intermediate or destroying a great clan at his word—if Joaquin told you to do it, you did it.

His children were no exception. Especially Jasmine, groomed to be the next Crimson King.

And because they were his children, the expectations placed on them were even more ridiculous.

Some might call it irrational. But that was Joaquin Crimson—irrational, and a king.

"I’m so pathetic..." Jasmine whispered.

"It’s like I’ve been slapped in the face. I don’t deserve to be your big sister, Azriel."

Her voice, fragile and small, snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up—and his eyes widened at the sheen of tears gathering as she stared at him, on the verge of breaking.

"I said I’d make sure you didn’t die this time," she went on, voice shaking, "and I did the opposite. For months you kept dying and dying while I did nothing. I should have been there to protect you. Instead, I was a fool trying to complete this stupid scenario..."

Seeing her clutch her arms, shoulders trembling, made guilt swell in him.

’Did I make a mistake telling her?’

"Hey..." His voice softened.

"I didn’t tell you what I went through so you’d hate yourself. Forget about Dad. Don’t blame yourself. You’re smart enough to know you couldn’t have done anything. Besides, it’s not like I truly died—it was all fake."

"That... that doesn’t change how I feel," she said, tears finally slipping free.

"You were suffering for months. I’m your older sister... How am I supposed to be the next Crimson King if I can’t even protect my little brother?"

The sight of her crying made Azriel swing his legs off the bed. He stood, crossed the room, and pulled her into a firm embrace.

"I shouldn’t have told you everything," he murmured against her hair.

"I’m sorry."

He’d held a lot back—the situation with Pollux, the Goddess of Death, the god-race, the scenario itself—but apparently not enough.

Even so, Jasmine shook her head.

"I’m actually... really glad you told me. It makes me happy that you trust me enough now to share things like this."

Azriel’s expression darkened for a moment as he pressed his lips together.

’

I’m still lying to her, in the end...’

Azriel felt his heart grow heavier; unease swelled inside him. It had been there since he met Pollux, and with each day—each minute—it only grew. It felt like something much, much worse was still to come.

"You remember what you promised me... right, Azriel?"

Jasmine spoke suddenly, looking at him. Azriel looked back and smiled.

"Of course. But if you start acting recklessly and end up dying, I won’t feel inclined to keep my promise."

At that, Jasmine frowned and glared.

"Who are you to tell me not to be reckless? You’re the most reckless human I know!"

Azriel didn’t stop smiling; if anything, it widened.

"Stop looking so proud of that!" she snapped.

"Hahaha! I can’t help it. Either that, or I get so stressed my head explodes."

Jasmine clicked her tongue but let it go. Then she frowned again, and Azriel worried her brows might fix there forever if she kept it up.

"Hey, isn’t it time you stopped hugging me?"

He tilted his head, blinking.

"Well, I wouldn’t want you to start crying again, dear crybaby of a sister."

He could practically hear her teeth grind.

"You... ugh. I’d rather be with Sir Felix than you—at least he listens to me."

"Sir Felix is here?"

Azriel asked it with feigned surprise; of course, he already knew. Sir Felix was a Crimson Knight and Grandmaster Mira’s younger brother. A Master.

’We’re lucky Felix is here; he’ll take Jasmine’s side no matter what.’

Jasmine nodded.

"Yes. If it weren’t for him, I’d have been in even more trouble when I first arrived in this scenario."

Azriel’s expression tightened.

’When she lost an eye because of Pierre... so it was Felix who helped her.

’

"I see. Then I should thank him soon."

Jasmine smiled at that, and he finally let her go. He returned to the bed, picked up the plate, and was about to pop a cookie into his mouth when he saw Jasmine’s expression darken, anxiety shadowing her face.

"Jasmine? What is it?" His face sobered, his voice tightening with concern.

"Do you remember when you were sent to your soul realm before coming here?"

"Yeah, I remember..."

She pressed her lips together.

"Then you remember the objectives and conditions, right?"

Azriel nodded.

"The Saintess said this scenario is a trial—we’re being judged by the gods. For the scenario to know whether we complete the objectives and meet the conditions, someone has to be watching us, right? Do you think it’s true... that the gods are watching us?"

’Huh..?’

It was a fair question, especially given the Saintess’s words and Jasmine’s deduction that someone had to be monitoring them. Azriel’s face hardened.

’

What is this? Why is my heart pounding?’

His blood thrummed as if he were locked in a deadly duel. The unease sharpened—and stranger still, his mana core began to heat.

’Why am I getting anxious... scared... tense... nostalgic? What does it mean?’

It was a simple question—one he could have brushed off with an

I don’t know

or

probably

. But Jasmine hadn’t asked to trade theories as siblings. She asked because she knew he was the Son of Death—and suspected he might know more than he should. She was afraid to reveal too much of herself. Afraid to reveal too much of him.

’

Why does it feel like I’m missing something important? What was it? Was it...’

———"You’ve become an Advanced now... your soul has strengthened. But the more time you remain alive in this timeline, it won’t just be names you begin to recall. It will be feelings... emotions... the touch of someone’s skin... their scent. Don’t let those things sway you. We died in those timelines for a reason. Don’t let them become your downfall again. We don’t get another chance at life anymore."

Xian Feng’s words from the auction surged back.

"Ugh..."

A headache pounded behind his eyes.

"Brother? What’s wrong?" Jasmine asked, worry flaring as he clutched his head.

Azriel didn’t hear her. He only gritted his teeth against the pain.

’Pain? Why am I feeling pain again...? Is it the poison?’

No.

’No, it isn’t the poison... my mana core is burning so hot it’s hurting me...’

———"I do not fear the sun or its flames. I fear only regret—regret for a life spent crawling when I was born with the ambition to ascend. If my wings must burn, so be it. At least I crafted them myself. Only those willing to risk falling will ever learn to fly."

Pollux’s words slammed into him—and with them, another spike of pain.

———"Someone who says one thing, but does another. Who dreams of freedom, but never takes a step. Even with two sets of memories—Leo’s and Azriel’s—you make the same mistakes. You wear masks. So many, even you don’t remember who you are underneath."

———[’The Fourth Authority’ claims putting this world in a scenario was a request from ’The Second Authority’.]

———"Killing you would be meaningless. She loves you too deeply—whether you’re her apostle or her son—she will never let you die. She’ll always save you."

———"You once asked if I wished to fly toward the sun again, didn’t you, Son of Death? But tell me... why should I fly toward it when I can bring the sun to me instead?"

Memory after memory surged back, each one sharper than the last.

’Why? Why now? And why does it hurt to remember?’

It was not like he had forgotten them, yet it was as if it were the first time he was hearing these things, recalling them.

"Forget what I asked," Jasmine said softly, stepping toward him as his face drained of color.

"It was a stupid question."

"I’m fine..."

Azriel’s voice cut across hers, steady enough to make her freeze.

"I’m fine," he repeated.

’How strange...’

The headache broke like a wave receding—but the heat in his core kept blazing.

’Is this what Xian Feng meant? No... it feels like he underestimated what he was warning me about.’

It was probably Jasmine’s question that triggered it.

’Is it worth it? It’s a gamble—extremely dangerous, reckless, stupid. And yet... why do I feel I must do it? Should do it. Do I even have the luxury to choose anymore?’

He was going to die. Jasmine was going to die. Everyone was—at Pollux’s mercy.

’Can I afford to be picky? Isn’t it better to handle the current threat in front of us and face the rest after.’

But the thing this might unleash...

’Doesn’t it have the potential to be ten times worse? Doesn’t it go against everything I—and the God of Time, and the Goddess of Death—fear most?’

’Do I have a choice?’

Jasmine watched him, worried, but held her tongue. He was thinking too hard, too deeply, and she knew better than to break it.

’No, truly—how would I even know what’s good or bad? Who’s right or wrong? I know Pollux is the one I need to remove. I don’t know if I want to kill the gods like Xian Feng. I don’t know what to do with the Goddess of Death. I know the God of Time cannot be trusted... and yet—my soul is telling me to trust this...’

Azriel closed his eyes and let out a slow breath.

’Very well.’

He opened them and gave Jasmine a warm, clear smile.

"It isn’t a stupid question. The Saintess is right—and so are you. The gods are watching us."

"...!"

Jasmine’s eyes widened. Alarm bled into her face; fear paled her cheeks.

"Why... no—how? How... how do you even know?"

Why was he saying this? She was smart enough to know he shouldn’t reveal anything that would hint at who he was. So she asked

how

, hoping he would find some harmless excuse.

[’The Fourth Authority’ looks at you, for some reason filled with grave panic.]

[’The Fourth Authority’ warns you to stop whatever it is you are thinking of doing.]

[’The Fourth Authority’ will extract you from the scenario if you do something stupid.]

[Stop... please, stop.]

But hope is often in vain.

"Why? How? You already know the answer, dear sister. After all, I am the Son of Death."