Asmodeus System: Stealing My Bully's Mother

​The temperature inside the VIP Room slowly crept up, returning to normal after Isolde’s icy aura subsided.

On the carpet, Rolf Haiteler was still trembling violently. His gaunt body shivered, his eyes glued to the tips of his own dress shoes.

Beside him, The Serpent maintained his calm posture. The black-cloaked man knelt upright. His gray eyes monitored the surroundings.

At the far end of the room, Ethan Valen sat casually on his black leather sofa.

He held a porcelain cup, sipping his tea with elegance.

Not far from there, Miya Evarett sat stiffly. The Priestess’s petite fingers squeezed the hem of her white robe. Her light purple eyes darted anxiously, her pointed ears twitching to catch every drawn breath in the room.

Ethan turned his head toward Isolde. "Prepare everything. The permit documents, a safe route, and the carriage. We leave before noon."

Isolde bowed. "Right away, My Master." Soundlessly, the Vice Principal turned and exited through the main door, closing it tightly behind her.

Ethan took one more sip of his tea, then set the cup down. His eyes shifted to Rolf.

"I remember you, Rolf," Ethan said, breaking the silence. His baritone was incredibly flat.

Rolf flinched, his shoulders tensing in horror.

"In the dorm hallway last month," Ethan continued. "When Kurt stomped my head into the stone floor, you stood behind him. You laughed the loudest. You even suggested that Kurt break my fingers so I could no longer hold an exam quill."

His past sins brought up by the ruler of darkness. Rolf’s defenses shattered to pieces. Tears of sheer terror flooded his gaunt face.

"I-It wasn’t my idea!" Rolf wailed, dropping to his knees to beg. His voice cracked. "It was Kurt! Kurt forced me to tag along! I was just following him, Valen... I-I mean, My Master! I swear!"

Ethan stared at the cowardly youth with a calm face.

"That is your problem, Rolf. You are just a follower. A little dog always looking for a bigger master to hide behind. Tch. And unfortunately... you always choose to side with the wrong person."

Rolf sobbed uncontrollably, bowing his head until it kissed the carpet. Lamenting his doomed fate.

Beside him, The Serpent scoffed softly. A subtle sneer.

"You might feel like a god in this room, Young Man," The Serpent stated, his tone dripping with venom. His eyes stared straight at Ethan. "But capturing me is an exercise in futility. The mastermind behind all this sits at the peak of a hierarchy you could never touch. The moment they realize I’m missing, you and everyone in this room will be hunted down to the last."

Instead of getting angry, Ethan actually smirked faintly.

A smile that made the hairs on the back of The Serpent’s neck stand up for the very first time.

"You are overestimating," Ethan retorted coldly. "I don’t care in the slightest who the mastermind is. Elite nobles? Faction members? Doesn’t matter."

The Serpent fell silent. He was a veteran assassin, but the absolute indifference in the eyes of this F-Caste youth made him realize: he had messed with the wrong monster.

"A-Are... are you going to kill us here...?" Rolf squeaked in despair.

Ethan leaned his back against the sofa. "If I wanted your lives... you would’ve become piles of frozen meat last night. Your lives are still far too useful for me to waste."

Knock. Knock.

Two soft, formal knocks echoed from the door.

Miya flinched in shock. The Serpent’s body tensed slightly, hoping it was his rescue squad. Yet Ethan remained calm. He signaled for everyone to stay quiet, then walked over to the door.

Ethan opened it halfway, blocking the view into the room with his broad frame.

In the corridor, a male member of the Student Council stood neatly dressed. The man was slightly surprised to see Ethan Valen opening the VIP Room door with a half-open shirt and messy hair.

"Sorry to intrude on your time, Valen," the council member greeted stiffly. "I’m looking for President Kaelia. Several lower-year students reported seeing the President enter the VIP area early this morning. Is she here?"

Ethan stared into the man’s eyes without blinking.

"The Student Council President isn’t in my room. Why would she come to see me this early?" Ethan answered smoothly. "You might want to check the archive room. As far as I know, she’s been busy all night sorting out tournament committee reports."

"Ah... I see. Those reports do take a lot of time," the man murmured, swallowing Ethan’s bait whole. "But, by the way... did you hear a commotion around dawn? A few students said they saw the Rosenberg’s Northern Dog dragging some bloody people into this wing of the building."

Ethan’s brown eyes narrowed slightly.

"That is the Vice Principal’s business. If you cherish your position on the council... I strongly suggest you don’t meddle in the Rosenberg Family’s personal affairs."

Hearing Isolde’s name, the council member’s face paled. He hurriedly gave a respectful nod. "Y-You’re right. Forgive my insolence. I will look for the President in the archive room. Excuse me."

Ethan gave a curt nod, closed the door, and locked it. A minor crisis resolved without a trace. He returned to the sofa.

Not long after, the main door opened again. Isolde entered, bringing with her the chill of the corridor and a perfectly constructed professional smile.

"All preparations are complete, My Master," Isolde reported. "The exit permits, a safe route away from other faction patrols, and a specialized carriage are ready. I have also sent a message to Headmaster Cornelius, taking an urgent leave of absence because my son’s condition has worsened."

Ethan nodded in satisfaction. He rose from the sofa.

"Good. We leave now," Ethan instructed. He glanced at the fireplace. "Isolde, wake Valera up."

Isolde walked over to the fireplace, touching Valera’s shoulder where she was fast asleep on the thick carpet. Her black leather armor creaked softly as the knight reacted.

Valera cracked one golden eye open. She let out a heavy groan. "Hah... I just closed my eyes..."

"Get up, Valera," Ethan decreed. "Resume your sleep in the carriage later."

Hearing that order, Valera immediately suppressed her fatigue. She grabbed her Zweihander and stood at attention within seconds. "Ready, My Master."

In another corner, Miya Evarett squeezed her white robe even tighter. The Elf girl looked around awkwardly. She felt like a sheep trapped in a den of wolves.

"M-My Master..." Miya called out hesitantly, almost whispering. "Am... I coming too?"

Ethan turned his head, staring into those light purple eyes radiating anxiety. "Of course, Miya. Don’t forget, you still have an important patient out there who needs your care. I need you very much."

Ethan’s tone was firm, yet the mention of ’patient’ successfully suppressed Miya’s fear. Remembering Elara’s pale, blind face, the healer’s sense of responsibility took over once more.

Miya took a deep breath. She gave a nervous nod, smoothing out her robe, preparing to follow this entourage of darkness.

The handling of the prisoners was done swiftly and mercilessly.

Valera and Isolde bound Rolf and The Serpent far tighter with ropes layered in restraining magic. Their mouths were gagged again with thick cloths tied tightly behind their heads.

They were herded out through the VIP Room’s main door. However, instead of passing through the corridors frequented by students, Isolde led the way down a narrow staircase near the staff quarters—a route long used by the academy’s top brass to move about without drawing attention.

No one made a sound. Only the echo of footsteps and the dragging of The Serpent’s cloak across the stone floor.

They descended a long spiral staircase, emptying directly into the underground garage near the side gate. The crestless black carriage was already waiting alongside the old coachman.

Valera immediately dragged and tossed Rolf and The Serpent into the freezing secret compartment at the bottom of the carriage, locking it tight.

A few minutes later, inside the warm and luxurious cabin of the black carriage.

Valera didn’t waste any time. The moment the door closed, she instantly sprawled across the bench, closed her eyes, and resumed her delayed sleep.

Miya sat incredibly stiff in the corner near the window. Her eyes stared outside, but her hands kept squeezing the small leather satchel in her lap.

Meanwhile, Isolde sat upright beside Ethan with elegant posture. The Archmage’s back didn’t touch the seat rest, maintaining her authority—even though beneath her navy-blue gown, the memory of the Sin Mana torturing her last night still lingered vividly, sending shivers down her nerves.

Crack!

The old coachman outside snapped the reins.

The black carriage moved forward. Its wheels creaked as they sliced through the snow, slipping smoothly past the side gate post using Isolde’s VIP pass, before exiting entirely from the giant walls of Zenithar Academy.

From inside the cabin, Ethan rested his chin on one hand. His eyes stared out through the window glass.

Heavy snow fell, painting the outside world pure white. In the distance, the silhouettes of the city and the academy walls grew increasingly faint, swallowed by the storm’s fog.

A new stage awaited. A lethal journey heading straight into the heart of the Rosenberg estate.

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