Asmodeus System: Stealing My Bully's Mother

Dawn remained hidden behind the pitch-black sky looming over the North Tower.

Freezing air seeped greedily through the cracks of the stained glass. Yet, inside the dead-silent VIP Room, the stillness was only torn by the scratching of a quill.

Miya sat curled up near the window. Her petite frame seemed to shrink even further. Dark bags hung under her eyes, and her pointed ears drooped limply. She was completely drained.

Her hands trembled slightly as she etched the final cipher—firmly locking all of Elara’s medical records and anomalies into the parchment.

"Hah... it’s done, Master," Miya reported hoarsely. She set the quill down and massaged the bridge of her nose.

Near the bed, Ethan Valen stood tall.

His long-sleeved black shirt was neatly buttoned, framing his athletic build. There wasn’t a single trace of exhaustion on his face, even though he had been awake all night.

Ethan’s jaw clenched. His gaze was as sharp as obsidian, locking away whatever emotions tried to bleed through.

"Store the files. Don’t leave a single page of your original notes here," Ethan instructed coldly. "We’re leaving now."

Miya nodded quickly. She grabbed her leather medical bag, packing the ciphered parchment, potion vials, and magical bandages with measured precision.

Once the bag was slung over her shoulder, she looked up at her master.

"Head back to the VVIP facility through the same route. Wait for me there," Ethan ordered, turning toward the door. "There’s one last stumbling block I need to clear."

The Main Tower’s corridors were as quiet as a graveyard.

Blue flames from the magical torches danced dimly against the stone walls. Ethan strode calmly, both hands resting comfortably in his pockets. Every step his boots took seemed to freeze the surrounding air.

At the end of the hallway, a few servants tasked with lighting the fireplaces accidentally crossed his path.

Their breaths hitched instantly. Without any cue, the servants pressed themselves against the walls, bowing down so deeply in terror that their chins touched their chests.

Ethan walked right past them, his gaze locked straight onto the double oak doors at the end of the highest corridor.

The scent of old parchment, dust, and bitter tea immediately assaulted him the moment he barged into the Headmaster’s office.

Behind his massive desk, Sage Cornelius leaned back. His gray robes looked dull, his white hair a mess. His blind left eye remained frozen, while his right eye glared sharply at the door.

"Hmm, I figured you didn’t have the decency to knock, Valen," Cornelius greeted in a raspy voice.

Without bothering to ask for permission, Ethan pulled up a chair and sat down, crossing his legs. His entire gesture radiated absolute arrogance.

"I don’t have time for bureaucracy, Headmaster," Ethan shot back flatly. "I need clearance to leave the academy. Today."

Cornelius’s white eyebrow arched. His wrinkled finger tapped the desk.

"Tch. Clearance to leave? Just as the noble faction is baring their fangs at you? You’re running away after stirring up a mess?"

"The Valen territory requires supervision before the Palace dogs arrive for inspection," Ethan replied smoothly. A perfectly woven lie. "If the council spots a single crack in my borders, they’ll pounce. My domain must remain utterly untouchable."

Cornelius let out a low snort—a dry laugh completely devoid of amusement.

His right eye narrowed, trying to pry open the young man’s stoic mask. "The question is, Ethan... did you come here to ask for permission, or just to inform me that you’re leaving?"

Ethan met his gaze without blinking. "I’m sitting in your chair. That means I’m asking for permission."

Silence poisoned the air. Cornelius knew Ethan was lying. However, trying to chain a devil that was already gearing up for flight would only trigger a bloodbath within the academy.

"Twenty days," the Sage decided with finality. He pulled out a piece of parchment and stamped it with a magical seal. "Only twenty days. Don’t make me regret taking off your leash."

The parchment floated over, and Ethan snatched it out of the air with one hand.

"That’s more than enough."

The moment Cornelius’s office door clicked shut, Ethan’s footsteps came to a halt.

Standing under the shadow of a dim corridor pillar with her arms crossed was Kaelia. Her fiery red hair was tied up high. Her crimson and gold Student Council uniform stood out sharply amidst the gloom.

Her golden-yellow eyes glinted sharply. She wasn’t angry, but a clear stroke of disappointment was etched on her tense jaw.

"So my guess was right?" Kaelia hissed, holding back her voice. "You’re leaving. And I’m... always the last one to know."

Ethan stepped forward, closing the distance between them. "I’m not obligated to report my schedule to the Student Council President."

"Not to the Student Council President!" Kaelia tilted her chin up, braving Ethan’s intimidating glare. "To your woman! Or am I just a pawn you toss in a drawer when you don’t need me?!"

"Tch. Don’t act like a child, Kaelia." Ethan’s voice was as cold as ice.

Kaelia scoffed cynically, parting her lips to snap back, but she froze.

Ethan’s cold hand suddenly shot up, gently gripping her chin. The touch wasn’t rough, but it locked Kaelia into instinctive submission.

Kaelia’s golden eyes widened. Only a fist’s width separated their faces. The girl’s breath hitched under the absolute dominance radiating from the young man.

"Watch my backyard while I’m gone," Ethan whispered, his deep voice vibrating in her chest. "Make sure those noble hounds behave. If anyone steps out of line, burn them to the ground."

Kaelia swallowed hard. A surge of heat crept up her neck. She looked away, though she made no effort to push his hand off her chin.

"Don’t boss me around like I’m your subordinate, Valen," Kaelia replied, her voice trembling slightly. She took a step back, breaking away from his hold. "Just hurry back. I won’t cover for you forever."

Ethan lowered his hand. Without another word, he turned and walked away.

The preparation at the VVIP facility was brief and dead silent.

Elara lay half-conscious. Her skin was as pale as paper, her frail body bundled beneath a dark wool cloak and thick blankets. Her white-filmed eyes were half-open, staring blankly.

"Master," Miya greeted softly as Ethan entered.

Ethan immediately slipped his arms under Elara’s back and knees, scooping her up in a single fluid motion. His heart sank. His sister was way too light—like carrying an empty cloak.

He held Elara tightly against his chest.

"Stay behind me. Keep close once we enter the passage," Ethan warned strictly.

Miya nodded, hugging her leather bag tightly.

Ethan pressed a specific brick in the corner of the room. The stone wall shifted soundlessly, gaping open like a monster’s maw. They slipped inside, and the wall sealed shut behind them.

The underground tunnel was dark, damp, and reeked of rotting roots.

Only the soft glow of a luminescent stone in Miya’s hand guided their way. Ethan took the lead, using his broad frame as a shield against the freezing drafts sweeping from the depths of the tunnel.

There was zero conversation. Only the rhythmic thud of boots, the rustling of cloaks, and the fog of their exhaling breaths.

An hour later, they pushed through a thorny thicket at the edge of a small town, just outside Zenithar’s magical barrier. Dawn was finally breaking over the eastern horizon.

At a snow-covered crossroad, a black carriage devoid of any noble crest was already waiting.

The grizzled old driver Ethan had hired merely shot them a passing glance from beneath his bearskin coat. He took a deep drag from his tobacco pipe—knowing full well the golden rule of the underworld: never ask too many questions.

Ethan gently laid Elara on the cushioned carriage seat. Miya sat beside her, instantly checking the patient’s pulse.

The door clicked shut. The black carriage immediately surged forward, tearing through the morning mist and leaving the shadow of Zenithar behind.

Amidst the rhythmic bumps of the carriage, Elara’s eyelids slowly fluttered open.

"Brother...?" she called out weakly. Her tiny fingers fumbled blindly at the blanket over her chest.

Ethan, who had been sitting with his arms crossed and eyes closed, instantly leaned forward. He gripped her freezing fingers. His icy demeanor completely evaporated, replaced by an unconditional gentleness.

"I’m right here, El," Ethan answered softly.

"Where... are we?"

"On the road. We’re going home," Ethan’s thumb gently rubbed the back of her hand. "You’re safe now. Go to sleep."

Hearing the word ’home’, a faint smile curved onto Elara’s pale lips. Her eyes fluttered shut in peace.

The journey continued until the sun hung high in the sky. The carriage rolled to a halt in a transit village near the northern border to swap out the horses.

Ethan pulled the window curtains open just a sliver. Fresh air flooded into the cabin.

Outside, a little boy in shabby clothes and soot-stained cheeks suddenly ran over. He stood on his tiptoes beneath the carriage window, peeking inside with wide, curious eyes.

His gaze landed on Elara’s pale face.

"Mister, who is she?" the boy asked with high-pitched innocence.

Ethan’s expression remained flat, but instead of chasing him off with a murderous Aura, the young man simply looked down.

"My sister."

"Is the big sister sick? Her face is so white."

"Yes. She’s sick."

"Is she going to get better?" the boy asked hopefully.

Ethan’s body tensed. A heavy silence momentarily froze the carriage cabin. A barrage of medical verdicts and the magical parasite slumbering in Elara’s chest screamed in his head.

However, looking at the gleam in the boy’s eyes, the doubt in Ethan’s chest burned to ashes.

"She will get better," Ethan answered. His voice was low, rumbling with an absolute certainty that seemingly dared to defy fate itself.

The boy grinned widely, showing off his missing teeth. "Thank goodness! I hope she wakes up soon so she can play in the snow!"

His mother called out from a distance. The boy waved his small hand and ran off.

On the opposite seat, Miya bit her lower lip hard. The Elf’s eyes brimmed with tears. She hurriedly looked down, pretending to organize her potion vials to hold back the overwhelming emotion tightening her chest.

The crack of the reins echoed. The carriage resumed its journey.

Ethan cast his gaze out the window, staring at the northern mountains blanketed in freezing mist. The shadows of his homeland were already calling, along with the dark secrets lying in wait for him there.

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