Warm sunlight crept in through the glass windows, tenderly caressing the tuft of Casimir’s uncovered golden hair—making it sparkle.

  Feeling the warmth, Casimir stirred under the blanket—and jolted upright. He hadn’t slept in this late in over a decade. He was usually up by the crack of dawn, no matter how late he’d gone to bed.

  ‘Oh, right.’ He calmed himself, ‘There’s no need to do this anymore. Valeri’s already been named heir.’

  He sat unmoving on the edge of his bed, soaking in the gentle warmth—his eyes distant and unblinking as they lingered on the window. He’d been staring out the window an awful lot lately.

  It wasn’t until a sting pricked at his eyes that the blur lifted, snapping him back into focus.

  For the first time in his life, Casimir yearned to laze about all day. But with a sigh, he pushed the temptation aside and trudged his way to the bath.

  Lukewarm water filled the tub, a mellow aroma of cedar wafting from its dull, blue surface. Casimir dismissed the servants and lowered himself into the tub. The gentle ripples of water eased his mind as he closed his eyes.

  His eyes drifted out of focus as he lost himself in his thoughts.

  ‘What...do I do now?’

  His sole motivation had always been his unyielding desire to prove himself to his father. But now that the long battle was lost, what did he even have left?

  Succession had been the only way to prove his worth—to show that he was much more than his crimson eyes. But now that it was gone, was he meant to carry the burden of this cursed stigma for the rest of his life?

  Feeling a droplet slip from his eyelash and trail down his cheek, a foolish thought surfaced.

  Drip.

  ‘Should I...run away?’

  Knock knock knock.

  “Young Master Casimir,” A servant’s abrupt interjection broke Casimir’s train of thought. “His Grace has summoned you to the solar.”

  Casimir’s eyelashes fluttered open as he wiped water off his face.

  “I’ll be there shortly.” His voice was quiet, almost distant.

  The once gentle, warm water now clung to him like lead as he rose from the tub and draped himself in luxurious yet dull clothes.

  Casimir resided in the isolated west wing, while Valeri was given the east wing. The courtyard that connected the left wing to the central castle exuded an air of quiet solemnity. Its stone pathway remained pristine, untouched by stray autumn leaves, while ruffled chrysanthemums lined the walk in striking arrangements, their warm blooms radiating resilience.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Casimir’s gaze lingered on the blooms as a thought surfaced. ‘I should hold out a little longer.’

  The walk to the central castle was silent; no servant would ever dare speak to Casimir. The warm yellow blooms of chrysanthemums gradually gave way to delicate, shifting shades of sasanqua camellias as a towering banner atop the central castle came into view.

  This was the emblem of the Galitzine Grand Duchy—a majestic grey stag with glistening golden antlers, a black sun with silver flares shining behind its head. It stood against a bold midnight blue backdrop, cleaved by a brilliant golden ascent.

  Renowned for its appeal of aura of elegance, Casimir failed to understand its charm. This was an opinion he would never voice for obvious reasons, but to him, it was nothing short of unsightly.

  He withdrew his gaze from the banner and entered the main castle. The lord’s servants were impeccably professional—they bowed upon his arrival, yet no one dared to lift their eyes to meet his. The servant assigned to relay the lord’s summons led him towards the solar and knocked thrice upon the door.

  The servant held open the door for Casimir after a voice of affirmation came from within. With measured steps, Casimir crossed the threshold, and the door shut behind him with a quiet finality. Silence settled upon the room—only the rhythmic scratching of a quill against parchment disturbed the silence.

  Casimir’s eyes drifted towards the esteemed lord of this territory—a man in the later years of his prime. His hair gleamed gold, the same hue as Casimir’s, yet their eyes set them apart. The Grand Duke’s gaze burned with a striking golden intensity while Casimir carried the cursed crimson stare.

  His Grace sat motionless with a quill in hand, his sharp gaze focused on the paperwork in front of him. Not a twitch of his brow, not a shift in his jaw betrayed a single thought. Whatever emotions stirred beneath, his face gave nothing away—just like every Galitzine before him.

  The scratching of the quill halted and the silence was finally broken, “I heard you went back to your bedchamber early last night.”

  Casimir’s eyes met the Grand Duke’s as an emotionless voice drifted from his lips, “I apologize, I sustained a rather deep cut on my palm attempting to touch the petals of a rose.” A hint of bitterness laced his words. “It was quite thorny.”

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  The lord’s gaze rested on him for a moment before shifting to the window beside him. “I see,” he said, his tone flat. No roses had been planted in any of the manor’s gardens.

  A short silence hung between them before Casimir spoke, “Your Grace, may I ask why you have summoned me?”

  “I have a task for you,” The lord pulled out a piece of parchment from a drawer in his desk. “A few nobles who attended yesterday’s banquet presented us with rather precious things.”

  He gestured for Casimir to come near to take the parchment, “Select appropriate gifts to send in return by tomorrow.”

  A cold wave washed over Casimir. ‘Tasking me to pick out return gifts for the guests at Valeri's designation ceremony?’ his grip on the parchment tightened, the edges crumpling beneath his fingers. ‘What more do they want from me?’

  The Grand Duke’s desk was littered with paperwork of all kinds but it still maintained its regal tidiness, amid the mountain of papers, a small flower vase stood out like a sore thumb. A few flowers of different varieties were arranged in it, each flower symbolized a castle.

  Casimir’s gaze lingered on the wilting chrysanthemums as he parted his lips to speak. “Your Grace, may I be bold enough to ask why you have assigned me to such a task?”

  The Grand Duke responded without lifting his gaze from the paperwork, “You possess an exceptional talent for selecting the most fitting gifts for nobles of varying tastes.”

  Casimir ignored the hollow praise, Anger coiling in his throat.

  Before he could stop himself, an impulsive thought made its way out of his mouth, “Your Grace, I have nothing left to do as a legitimate son of this family,” Casimir began, his voice betraying a hint of resignation. Then, realizing the gravity of his own words, his breath hitched. “So, I um—I wished to ask of you, please, release me from my familial ties. Let me live peacefully in some remote corner of the territory.”

  Casimir lowered his gaze and clenched his eyes shut. He’d done it now. He’s gone mad. But, contrary to his expectations, the Grand Duke remained silent.

  After what felt like an eternity to Casimir, Stasio’s indifferent voice entered his ears, “Remember to get the task done before moonrise tomorrow. You can go now.”

  Casimir whipped his head back up, a look of stunned disbelief in his eyes. His emotioned flickered on his face, unguarded.

  ‘Oh.’ Understanding flashed before his eyes. ‘He ignored me.’

  His stomach churned as he forced out a quiet ‘I understand.’ before leaving the solar.

  His steps quickened as his vision blurred. A faint fragrance of chrysanthemums tickled his nose, halting his footsteps. He found himself in the courtyard connecting the west wing to the central castle.

  A sharp pain in his palm snapped him out of his stupor. He’d been clenching his fists too tightly, causing the cut from yesterday to bleed through the bandages.

  Numerous thoughts flashed through Casimir’s mind as he stared at the blood seeping through the thin bandages. Pursing his lips, he turned away from the west wing and made his way towards the central castle.

  However, not along the brick-paved courtyard pathway. Instead, he meticulously spotted a partially concealed trail amid the bushes near a cluster of chrysanthemums and slipped through without hesitation.

  The trail was free of thorny or potentially poisonous plants and insects; Casimir navigated the narrow path with practiced familiarity. Soon enough, his way was obstructed by a short wall made of bushes.

  Casimir stood upright in the tranquil silence surrounded by trees and fragrant flowers. For a moment, he remained still. Then, breaking the serenity with a swift motion, he pushed his arm through the wall of foliage in front of him.

  He yanked out a bunch of sasanqua camellias—specifically, the ones from the central castle’s garden. He retracted his hand, crushing the delicate blooms in his palm, letting the petals scatter over the remaining flowers in the bunch.

  This was a silent tantrum—his method of venting his anger toward the Grand Duke ever since he was a small child. Openly expressing his displeasure wasn’t an option; that was something he had come to terms with long ago.

  He made his way back to the entrance of the narrow path, habit guiding his hands as he flawlessly concealed any trace of his passage.

  Passing the guards stationed on the entrance, he stepped into the west wing and made his way towards his study. No matter how angry he was, an order by His Grace was still an order. He smoothened the parchment out and laid it on his desk.

  He looked at the list and dipped his quill in ink. ‘...There are more nobles than I thought.’ he thought, his mind wandering. ‘He has all the support in the world.’

  Knock knock knock.

  An aged voice reached Casimir’s ears, “Young master, breakfast is served. Please proceed to the dining hall.” It was Millard.

  Casimir looked at his desk and after a moment’s thought, called out, “Come in, Millard.”

  “How may I help you, sir?”

  “Dim the lights in my study and light a candle.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Also, bring me a light morning meal here, I’m quite busy.”

  With a polite bow, Millard left the study.

  Casimir tore his eyes away from the spot where Millard had been and began writing something on the parchment. Millard had served as his butler since he was a small boy. Truthfully, he was highly competent. Casimir never understood why the Grand Duke assigned such a talented servant to his castle. There was even a time where he had mistaken Millard’s presence as a gesture of reconciliation from the Grand Duke. How wrong he had been back then, all full of hope like a fool.

  Awoken from his daze by a few knocks, Casimir allowed Millard to enter. Millard brought in a small spread of scrambled eggs and a cup of hot coffee, served with sugar and cream. He set the breakfast on a separate table in the study and dimmed the lights, following Casimir’s earlier instructions, before leaving the study.

  One thing Casimir found reassuring was the servants’ professionalism—regardless of their personal feelings toward him, they never tampered with his food or clothing. Devil incarnate or not, he was still a noble.

  Casimir finished his breakfast and returned to his desk. Suddenly, the flame of the candle that Millard had set up flickered erratically, a faint scent of sulphur tickled Casimir’s nose. His eyes widened as the events of last night became clear in his mind.

  ‘How could I have forgotten?’ He stood up abruptly, his chair screeching against the floor.

  His eyes followed a warp in the space beside him as a hazy figure emerged into sight, “Hiya,” he greeted, his tone casual. “I saw your cute little outburst back there.”

  The figure studied Casimir’s expression for a moment before asking in disbelief, “You… Don’t tell me you actually forgot about me?”

  Casimir hastily composed himself, “Uh, forget? No, I did not.” he replied, though the pretense was evident in his voice.

  It was true—Casimir had forgotten all about this spirit. Maybe it was the fatigue catching up to him but still, how could anyone forget an evil spirit that they summoned, themselves?

  The spirit merely, suppressing a smile from breaking across his face.

  ‘He really is a being from the underworld.’ Casimir’s study was not just his sanctuary, it was also the safest place on Aion for him. Over the years, he had spent an uncountable amount of money on defensive magic devices—many capable of restricting the use of aether within the study’s walls.

  If this mysterious spirit were an outlier, he would have already collapsed to the floor rather than floating leisurely in the air.

  Casimir resolved to accept the presence of the being and introduced himself, “I greet a great being from the underworld. I am Casimir Galitzine—the eldest son of the house of Galitzine.”

  The being waved a hand lazily. “Ah, sure, I already knew who you were.”

  “O great being, how may I address you?”

  “Name’s Misham, just call me that—and drop the corny ‘O great being’ stuff.” The figure rubbed his arms and shuddered, “Gave me chills.”

  Casimir gave Misham a puzzled look. ‘A bit underwhelming for an evil spirit.’

  Misham glanced at the parchment on Casimir’s desk. “So, you’re going shopping next, right?”

  “Uh, normally I’d have my butler handle it, but it’s a direct order from the lord this time, so I have to go myself.”

  “Great, I’ll be going with you.”

  “Won’t other people see you?”

  “How do you think I’ve been following you around without anyone noticing?”

  “I see,” Casimir muttered, turning back to his desk to resume his work. A question crept into his mind, and he turned to face Misham.

  “Um, Misham,” he began. “I wished to ask you something.”

  “Shoot.”

  Ignoring his odd way of speaking, Casimir asked, “Why is your face blurry?”

  “I’m a being from a different realm than yours. Seeing my face would drive anyone from this realm hysterical,” Misham answered in a casual tone.

  “Is that so?” Casimir replied, faint doubt coloring his words.

  “Yep,” Misham’s figure flickered before vanishing. He emerged on Casimir’s other side, musing, “That’s why I pity you—you’ll never get to witness my unparalleled beauty.”

  Casimir simply sighed.

  In his nineteen years of life, he had met all kinds of people—arrogant, cowardly, ignorant, foolish. But never had he encountered anyone as shameless as this ghost.