When his master first spoke about keeping an eye on the child, he had assumed it would be a simple task—just having the boy keep an eye on her from afar.


    Never in his wildest dreams did he think his master would ask him to go personally. The moment he stepped into the civilized world, he could breathe. For the first time, he inhaled without gagging. The scent of fresh bread, damp earth, and crisp autumn leaves replaced the ever-present stench of decay. He inhaled deeply, savoring it.


    No iron tang of blood. No sickening sulfur of burning flesh.


    The roads were clean, the carriages were tidy, and the people greeted each other with respect. It was the complete opposite of what he had known in the Abyssal Realm. There, his every day had been filled with the yelling and cursing of demons. There, power ruled over all—and the weak were nothing more than playthings.


    For the first time in centuries, he could breathe. And yet… deep inside, a familiar unease lurked. The Abyss never truly let go of its prisoners.


    Here, for once, he had no one to bow his head to. As long as Abyss had no influence inside the Academy, he was free. Even if he was meant to watch over the girl, there was no one to answer to. No one to control him. For the first time in centuries, he could breathe without fear. He could stop watching his back. He could— He almost laughed at the absurdity. He could even slack off if he wanted to.


    A sharp pain pulsed through his skull. The scent of smoldering embers filled his nose, and suddenly—his vision blurred. The present melted away, dragging him into a memory he wished had stayed buried…


    The day his master decided to send him to the mortal realm, he had truly thought he was about to die.


    For a moment, he had been certain that Belial would be beheaded. He had expected his master to be enraged at the sight of Belial’s defeat— At the wounds on his body— At the damage to his pride. But to his shock— His master had been amused.


    "Aaah! That child is so amusing."


    A scoff came from the eleventh demon, Balam.


    "My Lord! I fail to understand what you find so amusing about a mere mortal child."


    Balam was grotesque—just like his brother, Belial. But unlike Belial, he was stronger.


    Far fiercer. His legendary sword, Fiery Dawn, could level an entire kingdom with a single swing.


    That was how powerful he was.


    Another voice joined in. Asmodeus, the fourth demon, agreed.


    "Indeed, my Lord. I do not see why you waste your attention on a fragile mortal. They live but a moment before they are reduced to dust."


    A low growl rumbled from the right side of the Abyssal Throne. A voice—smooth, but dripping with venomous disdain.


    "Fools. This is why none of you are ever truly favored by our Lord."


    At those words, both Asmodeus and Balam shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Even Belial—humiliated and broken—let out a small twitch of irritation.


    The one who spoke was Aamon, one of Abyss’s most trusted demons. Aamon had always been different—his mind was as sharp as a blade, and his loyalty was unwavering.


    Abyss let out a pleased hum.


    "As expected of you, Aamon. You understand me."


    Aamon’s entire being seemed to thrill at the praise. Azazel, watching this, felt disgusted.


    ‘How cruel must you be to earn that monster’s favor?’


    Aamon’s grin widened as he continued.


    "Belial... You witnessed it yourself, did you not?"


    He paused, his eyes gleaming as the other demons listened intently. Then— A chuckle escaped him.


    "Even the mere thought of talking back to the Lord is terrifying to us demon gods."


    The room fell silent. Every single demon felt an unspoken shudder at the idea.


    Abyss was not a being to be questioned.


    Not even they would dare.


    And yet—


    Aamon’s lips curled into a smirk. "Imagine it. A mere mortal child… speaking to our Lord as if he were just another noble at court."


    He leaned forward, a manic gleam in his eyes.


    "How fascinating.”


    "It would be a waste to have some lowly creature monitor her. Don''t you think so, my Lord?"


    The voice came from Agares, seated to the left of the Abyssal Throne. Agares rarely spoke.So when he did, everyone listened. The Abyssal Lord was silent for a moment, as if in thought.


    "Perhaps… But who among us can conceal our dark energy from those mortals?"


    Aamon chuckled, his voice carrying an edge of amusement.


    "There is someone, my Lord."


    The moment those words left his lips, all eyes turned—


    To Azazel.


    The demon in question stiffened under their collective, predatory gaze. His instinct screamed at him to flee, but there was nowhere to run.


    Azazel, trying his best to shrink into the shadows, pressed himself against the wall like a trapped animal. His voice came out weak and stammering.


    "N… No, my Lord! How can this humble servant possibly—"


    Belial growled, his hatred evident.


    "Why would you let this insignificant flea watch the child?!"


    Aamon, ever the voice of cruel logic, smirked.


    "Fool. Can''t you see? He already looks human."


    He gestured lazily toward Azazel.


    "If we use a low-level concealment spell, he will be indistinguishable from the mortals."


    Aamon''s eyes gleamed with mischief.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    "And with his holier-than-thou attitude, he will fit in perfectly."


    A murmur of agreement passed through the gathered demons.


    Belial fumed, his fists clenched. He believed he was the only one worthy of carrying out their Lord’s will— Not some cowardly demon who could barely stomach mortal slaughter.


    But Abyss’s voice echoed with finality.


    "Then it is settled. Azazel, you will leave for the Academy soon."


    The words rang in his ears like a death sentence.


    One by one, the demons dispersed— Until only one remained. Balthazaar. The demon knelt before the dark mass of his master’s form.


    "My Lord… is it wise to let that leech out of our sight?"


    His voice was low, cautious.


    "What if he remembers?"


    The Abyssal Lord let out a deep, echoing chuckle.


    "Don''t worry, Balthazaar."


    The darkness shifted slightly, as if amused.


    "It has been centuries. Even if he does remember… What can a fallen creature possibly do to me?"


    There was a pause. Then, a mocking chuckle.


    "At best, he might try to tickle me with his little knife."


    Balthazaar said nothing, though his expression darkened. His master was far too confident. Azazel had no idea what secrets the Abyssal Lord and Balthazaar spoke of.


    Nor did he care. He had been given a rare opportunity— A chance to escape the abyss…


    A chance to live free from the suffocating presence of demons and darkness. Even if his mission was a curse, Even if his freedom was an illusion, He would take what little peace he could get.


    But right now…


    He was barely holding onto consciousness.


    A sharp pain split through his skull.


    His vision blurred. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to remain upright.


    Then—A hand tapped his shoulder.


    "Professor, are you alright?"


    Azazel turned, eyes half-lidded, barely registering the voice.


    A second later— A spell was cast. A soothing warmth washed over him.


    The pain lessened.


    Through his hazy vision, he saw Principal Sylvester looking at him with concern.


    "It seems your journey is catching up to you," the principal remarked.


    "Why don’t you take a rest?"


    He turned to an attendant.


    "Lucas, escort our new professor to his quarters. He’s had a long trip."


    As Lucas led him toward the exit, Azazel caught a pair of piercing purple eyes watching him intently.


    For just a split second, the air seemed heavier. Those eyes held suspicion. Danger. Recognition.


    Azazel forced his expression to remain neutral.


    ''As expected from the man who cut off Belial''s hand…''


    His lips twitched in amusement.


    ''He''s not bad… for a mortal.''


    While Principal Sylvester’s highly-anticipated introduction of the new professor was cut short due to his sudden health issues, Sir Frederick Morari’s focus was not on the professor. Instead, his eyes were locked onto a certain first prince.


    And to his absolute shock— The man looked gleeful. Like a child who had just received his favorite candy. Morari’s years of experience told him one thing— His master had just found something far more entertaining than the fake Northern prince.


    Seeing Morari’s increasingly troubled expression, The rest of their companions followed his gaze. And now they, too, noticed Alexander’s unusually bright demeanor.


    Duke Borghildr rolled his eyes.


    “Can’t you stop boasting? We all already know how talented your kid is.”


    Alexander, still grinning, ignored the remark.


    “Wow… It’s overwhelming to see the amount of attention others pay to my daughter.”


    He chuckled.


    “If this were before, I might have been bothered by it. But now?”


    His purple eyes gleamed with amusement.


    “Now, I see it as an opportunity for her.”


    Then, suddenly, he turned to Leylani.


    Alexander’s smirk was unwavering. “You should check the sturdiness of your barriers.”


    Leylani crossed his arms. “The barriers have stood for centuries. Why are you suddenly concerned?”


    “"Oh, no reason," Alexander mused, his tone light—too light. "It’s just… funny how people always trust their defenses. Until they don’t exist anymore."


    He let out a low chuckle and started walking towards where his daughter and nephew were seated. Leylani blinked. Then frowned.


    “…What?”


    His confusion only grew deeper as he watched Alexander walk away. After a moment, he sighed and turned on his heels. Something about Alexander’s words didn’t sit right with him. And so, with a troubled expression, He made his way towards his office.


    It didn’t take long for Alexander to reach them. With his usual grace, he descended into the sea of students surrounding the kids.


    The moment they noticed him, the crowd parted in awe— Watching with reverence as their idol walked toward them. His purple eyes gleamed, his smile warm.


    “May I take my kids with me for a moment? I hope you all don’t mind.”


    His voice was gentle, yet undeniably commanding. And just like that— The young girls in the crowd practically melted, unable to contain their admiration.


    Holding Athena’s and Ayden’s small hands in his own, He led them away from the growing murmurs of admiration. Not far behind, Sir Morari and Julian followed at a measured pace.


    Sir Morari cleared his throat, feeling a bit awkward.


    “You… You did well. Keep it up.”


    Though his tone was gruff, The pride in his eyes was undeniable. Julian, knowing his father’s usual struggle with emotions, Did something unexpected— He grasped his father’s sleeve tightly.


    “Thank you, Father, for always teaching me what to do.”


    Sir Morari’s heart swelled with pride. He stretched out his hand and ruffled Julian’s hair affectionately. At that moment, Alexander’s voice carried over to them.


    “Fred, till we leave, spend time with Julian.”


    Both father and son turned to look at the first prince, Who stood with Athena and Ayden at his side. They bowed in gratitude.


    “Yes, Your Highness. Thank you.”


    Alexander took his children to the huge lake inside the Academy. The serene waters shimmered under the afternoon light. He turned to them, his voice gentle yet firm—


    “Both of you did well. I am proud of you two.”


    Athena’s heterochromatic eyes shone with admiration and love. And Ayden? He was over the moon. Excitedly, he jumped up and down, his joy infectious.


    “It was sooo exciting to see you watching us, Uncle! I am sooo happy!”


    Alexander chuckled and ruffled the young boy’s hair, Watching as his nephew beamed with pure delight.


    They then recounted their experiences— The trials, the dorms, and the unique surprises that awaited them.


    Alexander was particularly intrigued by the robotic butler and enchanted carriages in Alpha House.


    “Aaah! I really wish to see those spectacles with my own eyes.”


    Athena chuckled.


    “Why don’t you ask permission to visit me at my dorm? You know parents are allowed to visit. You don’t even have to face the trial.”


    Ayden, listening intently, chimed in.


    “I want to meet my sister’s butler too! But… I am not strong enough. Once I get stronger, I can see them too.”


    Then, as if hesitating, Ayden fidgeted slightly. Alexander noticed instantly.


    “What is it, honey?” he asked, his tone soft.


    Ayden looked up at him.


    “…Can you visit my dorm too?”


    Alexander’s expression softened.


    “Of course. How could I visit your sister’s dorm and not yours?”


    His voice was filled with affection.


    “If I don’t, how am I going to reply to your aunt when she asks about your well-being?”


    Hearing that, Ayden grinned brightly.


    And so, the three of them began walking toward Ayden’s dorm.


    Suddenly— A voice called out, stopping them in their tracks.


    "Your Highness Alexander, may I have a moment?"


    Alexander did not turn immediately. He recognized the voice. He had been expecting it.


    Ayden and Athena looked up at him, waiting for his reaction.


    When he finally turned, his gaze met Alfred Leylani’s, who stood there looking worn, frustrated, and—most interestingly—troubled.


    Leylani wasn’t often troubled.


    Alexander’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk.


    Leylani exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple as he approached.


    "You knew," he accused.


    Alexander tilted his head. "Knew what?"


    Leylani gave him an unamused glare. "Don’t play dumb. You knew the barriers were failing before I even checked them."


    Alexander chuckled, the sound both lighthearted and infuriatingly smug. "Well, it was only a matter of time. I was just wondering how long it would take you to figure it out."


    Leylani clenched his jaw. "And yet, you didn’t warn anyone."


    "I warned you," Alexander corrected. "You just didn’t believe me."


    Leylani muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "This man will be the death of me."


    He shook his head, stepping closer.


    His next words were quiet—calm, but edged with something heavier.


    "Alexander... the barriers didn’t just fail."


    "They were tampered with."


    Alexander’s smirk remained—until it didn’t. For just a second, it froze, like a crack appearing in unbreakable glass.