A trail of crimson blood followed behind Casimir as he trudged towards a dimly lit room, his dark surroundings pressing in on him.

  He was tired.

  His lifeless eyes looked at the flickering flame atop the big candle in the middle of the old room, then at the blood flowing from his freshly cut palm. He watched the flame for a while, a sigh escaping from his mouth.

  Haaah

  ‘This is pointless,’ He clenched his bloody hand while his face twisted into a sneer. He wasn’t sure who it was directed at—the world, or himself?

  Boom boom boom

  He flinched as the fireworks woke him up from his stupor. His face turned ashen as he hastily wiped his hand and turned his back on the old room.

  Climbing the steps from the basement, he was filled with just one thought— ‘Have I lost my mind!?’

  Realizing the gravity of the situation, he picked up his pace, desperately praying that no one had seen him.

  He was already known by many names—he didn’t need ‘devil worshipper’ added to the list.

  Born on the auspicious night of the Rite of Fulgia, he had already been marked as a token of misfortune when he emerged from his mother’s womb bearing crimson eyes—a stark contrast to Goddess Theia’s silver gaze.

  Boom boom boom

  The sound of the fireworks exploding in the brilliantly shining night sky was akin to mocking cymbals playing in Casimir’s head. Although he was the older of the two brothers, his father and the vassals of the territory had decided to name Valeri, the youngest of the three Galitzine children, as the heir.

  This event of officially naming Valeri as the heir was equivalent to a social death sentence for Casimir, who had been competing with Valeri for the position of the heir. He was powerless in the politics of his family’s territory—even after hearing the news about Valeri, all he could do was lock himself in his study and drown himself in books; a habit he had developed due to his obsession with wanting to become better.

  Just a few days prior to the ceremony, Casimir had been in his study, consistent with his routine, until—

  “Millard.” Casimir called out to his butler, stationed outside the study. There was no response. “Millard?” he repeated.

  Haah

  Concluding that Millard had gone somewhere, Casimir sighed, got up from his seat and started looking around to find a book he currently required when a piece of parchment sticking out of a book on his shelf caught the eye of the obnoxiously perfectionist Casimir.

  Feeling irked, he raised his arm to fix the out of place page. His arm suddenly paused in midair, realizing that the piece of parchment did not belong to the book.

  He brought the parchment closer to his face. Reading the contents written on the parchment, his eyes widened in shock.

  ————————————————————

  Summoning Death

  I pray that this note finds only you, Cardis.

  I am Raven—an acquaintance of your beloved, and a devout servant of the ruler of afterlife. After a lifetime steeped in sacrifice and sacrilege against Theia, I managed to break through to the realm beneath, albeit only for a moment.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Through offerings best left unnamed—I was granted a single question. Wasting no time, i asked what haunted us for the eternity of our lifetimes:

  "Can an impossible wish be fulfilled?"

  The answer I received was a mocking, carefree laugh. The lord then cast a parchment to my feet, as if showing pity to a lowly being. The parchment revealed the steps to a ritual—

  Light a candle in a dark room shrouded in solitude, painting it red with dripping ichor. Only those who have read these words may begin the rite. Then speak into the silence—anything. Just hope that something answers. The price shall be your soul.

  Now then, Cardis, I sincerely hope that you leave no regrets behind.

  ————————————————————

  ‘An impossible wish…?’ he thought, his hand subconsciously clenching the parchment tighter, causing it to crinkle.

  Snapping himself out of his daze, his face twisted into a frown.

  “Ha,” he scoffed. “Such an obvious ploy.”

  Placing a piece of sacrilegious parchment in Casimir’s private study? It was obvious what the implied intent was. With a sneer, Casimir crushed the parchment into a ball and threw it into the fireplace.

  Had a servant been the one to find this parchment, rumors about him worshipping the devil would have been floating around by now.

  ‘I suppose that nonsense had a much larger impact on me than I thought—why in the world did I try to reenact the ritual?’ Casimir’s thoughts ran wild as he neared the banquet hall. Dreading the sight on the other side, he reluctantly motioned the stationed guard to open the door.

  The moment he stepped into the hall, he could feel eyes digging into him. He spotted Valeri standing beside his father, conversing with the vassals, a champagne glass in hand. A pang of jealousy and loathing struck him at the sight before him. Still, as composed as ever, he kept a straight face.

  He had only recently learned that all his efforts—the rivalry, was one-sided from him. Valeri, it turned out, had been unofficially named heir months ago.

  Gong gong gong

  Casimir’s gaze lingered on Valeri, tracing his every action, his body language—but his eyes were distant and unfocused. The previous years replaying behind them like a faded memory.

  Hearing the bells signaling midnight, he turned away and retired for the night. No one stopped him.

  As a result of tirelessly working towards the childish hopes of becoming the heir, Casimir had no close confidants— no friends to speak of. He had been truly willing to give up everything if it meant proving his worth. Now, all that remained was regret.

  He trudged along the luxurious yet bleak hallway, as if carrying the weight of all the misery in the world. Turning a corner, he reached his bedchamber, hesitating to enter. He stood before the door, an unreadable look in his eyes as he stared at it in silence, before finally stepping inside.

  It had truly been a long night, yet for Casimir, it passed in a daze. He was exhausted—both mentally and physically. Though bathing with the help of servants was an existing practice, it was uncommon. Casimir simply changed into his nightwear and sat in his desk chair, staring out the window. The solitude of his room only deepened his melancholy. He was about to rise and head to bed—

  “Woah, it’s like a funeral in here.”

  These unfamiliar words snapped Casimir out of his daze as he found himself staring at a pair of hazy eyes. A man with swept-back dark brunet hair and a build similar to his own was floating right in front of him, a playful grin on his face. The features on his face were unclear as if shrouded in dense fog, the only noticeable detail being his strange attire.

  “Who are you?” Casimir blurted out, realizing how embarrassingly long it had taken for him to react. Perhaps he really was exhausted.

  “How did you get in here?” he asked, composing himself.

  The man’s silhouette silently stirred, an eerie grin spreading across his blurry face.

  “Should I tell you my name?” he asked, his tone playful. “You sure you can handle the weight of my mighty existence?”

  This exchange gave Casimir enough time to study his current situation. Impatience simmered within him, today’s toils threatening to erupt from within. Yet, ever the professional, he asked with a voice laced with patience, “Considering the fact that you look akin to a ghost, you must be an outlier.” He studied the translucent man with an unwavering gaze. “What do you think you’re doing, breaking into a nobleman’s bedchamber?”

  The man didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by Casimir’s inquiry, “Pfft, ‘breaking in’? C’mon now, you’re the one who contracted me.” He laughed. “I deserve at least a little bit of hospitality.”

  “Contracted you—?” The day’s events flashed in Casimir’s mind as a rather risky—and frankly, embarrassing memory resurfaced. “You’re a being from the underworld...?”

  “Mm, the underworld, huh? Yeah, I mean, the ritual you performed summons something from down there, so I can’t exactly be from the heavens, can I?” He cupped his face with both hands and sighed. “Though, I guess it’s kinda hard to believe someone as handsome as me came from such a fugly place.”

  A look of sheer disgust flashed on Casimir’s face, briefly betraying his previous composure, as he asked, “But I certainly recall stopping before even completing the ritual. I don’t understand why you got summoned.”

  “Well, I don’t know anything about that. This magic stuff isn’t really my forte, you see,” he replied nonchalantly.

  “I thought beings from the underworld were supposed to be exceptional aether bearers, I suppose I heard wrong.” Exhaustion swept over him as his tone took on an unwitting air of haughtiness.

  The man’s silhouette flickered as he replied in a cheeky tone, “By that logic, all you little blond princes are supposed to frolic around grassy fields, drinking tea and saving princesses, aren’t you? Then why are you here—sitting in the moonlight, brooding by the window like some melodramatic heroine from a cheap novel?” He paused to catch his breath. “Tsk, kids these days and their cliches.”

  Casimir was left speechless. The sheer absurdity of the statement had him on the verge of a retort, when—

  “If you don’t have a wish, find one. Don’t bore me.” With that final snark, the hazy figure dissolved into nothingness.

  A cold breeze swept by him, tinged with a faint, arid scent of sulphur.

  ‘What in the world was that?’

  Left alone in the solitude of this room, Casimir felt as if a storm had swept through.

  God, he really was damn tired