The Apostle of Insanity

Nora watched Azarel in silence. Her fingers trembled slightly, but she made no other move. She listened.

"And why should I trust someone like you?" she asked, her voice tinged with defiance.

Azarel smiled. "Because I know your real name, Nora. And you know that changes everything."

Azarel turned to the armed men and gestured dismissively. "You can all leave," he said, his tone calm, almost casual. The butler hesitated, his brows furrowing, but a single look from Azarel made him nod in submission. He motioned for the guards to leave. They bowed slightly before silently exiting the room.

Azarel turned back to Nora, who remained frozen, her knife still in hand. "Now that we're alone, I think we can have a proper conversation."

Nora stared at him, suspicion burning in her eyes. "I'm listening," she said curtly. "How do you know my name?"

Azarel laughed, the sound reverberating eerily in the quiet room. "Ah, that question... I'm afraid I can't answer it," he said, leaning forward slightly, a smirk dancing on his lips. "But what I do know is what you're looking for."

Nora's eyes widened ever so slightly.

Azarel raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "In fact, I can give you what you want… right now. Consider it a gesture of goodwill."

Nora remained silent.

Azarel rose with unhurried grace and walked toward the door. "Follow me," he said simply. Without waiting for her reply, he stepped out. Nora hesitated, watching him, before trailing behind.

She kept the knife in her hand, but something about Azarel's calm demeanor compelled her to see this through.

Azarel walked confidently through the corridors, his steps light and deliberate. Nora followed closely, her eyes fixed on his back as thoughts swirled in her mind. They eventually arrived at a room that seemed part office, part lounge.

Azarel entered, locked the door behind them, and gestured for her to sit on one of the sofas.

Nora complied, still clutching the knife. They stared at each other in silence for a few moments.

Azarel was the first to break the stillness, locking eyes with her. "Well? What are you waiting for?" he said with a cryptic smile. "Take off your clothes."

"You're joking, right?" she snapped, springing to her feet. "I should kill you right now. I can't believe I thought—"

Azarel, far from intimidated, burst into laughter. "Oh, how twisted your mind is!" He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a strange light. "I wasn't asking for the reason you think. I want to see your back. That's where it is, isn't it?"

Nora froze, her fists clenching."How do you—"

"How I know doesn't matter," Azarel murmured. "What matters is that you'll finally get what you've been searching for, Nora."

Her jaw tightened, her breath quickening. "Are you serious?"

Azarel chuckled softly. "Absolutely. You need proof, don't you? That I'm a better master than the one you currently serve. I'm about to give it to you—the freedom you've been longing for."

Tense silence followed. Nora studied him for a long moment. Finally, she turned and began unbuttoning her shirt with deliberate slowness. She slid it off her shoulders, revealing her bare back. Her long black hair fell like a curtain to the side.

Etched onto her pale skin was a stark black tattoo: a circle surrounded by intricate interwoven designs. At its center was the image of an eye.

Azarel studied the tattoo, fascinated. His hand moved as if to touch it, but Nora stopped him.

"You know I could kill you when this is over, right?" she said coldly.

Azarel laughed again. "And yet, you won't. Am I wrong?"

Another heavy silence fell between them. Nora's eyes narrowed. "You're different. You've been hiding your true face all along, haven't you?"

Azarel shrugged, feigning indifference. "Who knows? Let's just say I've had a revelation."

Nora clenched her fists but said nothing, keeping her back exposed for the first time in years.

Slowly, Azarel reached out again, and this time, she didn't stop him.

His fingers lightly traced the tattoo, following the contours of the eye at its center.

Nora flinched at his touch but didn't move. Her gaze remained fixed forward, her expression unreadable.

"Are you sure you want to give up such power?" Azarel murmured.

Nora closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. "To you, it's power. To me, it's a curse."

Azarel's smile sharpened, his gaze piercing. "And what if I told you I could remove the burdens that come with that power?"

Nora froze, her eyes widening. "Who… who are you really?" she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of shock and anger. "There's no way... You can't possibly be the same naive young noble I was assigned to."

Azarel chuckled softly, his laughter light yet laced with mischief. "Did I really fool everyone that well?"

A smirk flickered across Nora's lips. "To know my name—a name even the leader of the Shadows doesn't know—you must be an 'L,' aren't you?"

Azarel said nothing.

Nora's brows furrowed, her voice lowering. "You don't even ask what I mean by 'L.' That alone proves you know exactly who they are."

Azarel simply shrugged, amused. "And what makes you think that, Nora?"

She shook her head, her expression hardening. "It's obvious. You're one of them—or at least a disciple. No one else could know my name unless they were connected to the 'L.' Why would someone like you possess a body like this?"

She paused, studying him intensely. Then, as though realizing she was asking too many questions, she sighed and looked away.

"Whatever," she muttered. "I don't know what your true intentions are. But if you really can free me from this… burden, then I'll owe you."

A tense silence filled the room, broken only by the faint crackle of the flames in the fireplace.

Azarel studied her for a moment, his smile softening. "I don't need your allegiance. That would be boring, don't you think?"

Nora raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Boring?" she repeated, as though the word didn't fit the weight of their exchange.

"You're far more interesting when unshackled. Let me handle that cursed symbol, and then... we'll see what you choose."

Nora's eyes opened, confusion flickering in her gaze. "A choice?"

Azarel nodded slowly. "I'll remove the mark, and then you're free. Free to follow me, return to your old master, or vanish entirely. The decision will be yours."

Nora frowned. This wasn't at all what she had expected. "Why? Why give me this freedom?"

Azarel chuckled softly. "Because, you see, I believe in everyone's freedom to choose. And because I've always found forced decisions dull."

Heavy silence followed. Nora remained still, then, slowly, she turned to face Azarel.

"If you're telling the truth," she murmured, "then prove it."

Azarel nodded, his expression turning serious. "Very well."

Nora turned her back to him once more, revealing her bare shoulders.

This time, Azarel raised both hands. His fingers hovered over the center of the tattoo, where the eye was etched.

A shiver ran through Nora's body as the mark on her back began to heat up, burning faintly. She winced but didn't move.

The circle and intricate designs started to unravel, their dark lines disintegrating piece by piece.

Though the process only lasted seconds, for Nora, it felt like an eternity. At last, the burning sensation ceased. She took a deep breath, an odd lightness washing over her. She knew the mark was gone.

Azarel stepped back, a satisfied smile on his face. "It's done. As promised, I've preserved the power of the mark while removing its restrictions."

Nora stood still, her hand brushing over her back. The skin was smooth, free of the symbol that had imprisoned her for so long. Slowly, she turned to face him.

"You… you really did it," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Azarel nodded. "Now, you're free."

For a moment, Nora stood frozen. Then she straightened.

"And if I decided to kill you now?" she asked quietly.

Azarel laughed, light and amused. "Then you'd be free to do so. But somehow, I don't think you will."

Nora narrowed her eyes, staring at him intently. Then, unexpectedly, she let out a dry, almost involuntary laugh.

Azarel spoke again, his tone casual. "Now that you're free to choose, what will you do? Follow me? Leave? Or stay with the Shadows?"

A heavy silence settled over the room. Nora glanced at her knife, then back at Azarel, who stood calmly, waiting for her answer without a trace of fear in his eyes.

Slowly, she lowered the blade and set it on the table with a sigh.

"I still don't understand why you did it," she murmured, her gaze lingering on the shimmering edge of the knife. "You could've manipulated me, forced me to obey, but... you gave me a choice."

Azarel shrugged. "I told you. Chains lead to nothing but compulsion. And I've always found decisions made under compulsion to be... dull."

Nora lifted her head, her brows furrowed. "So, what do you want from me?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. If you want to leave now, no one will stop you."

"And what if I chose to follow you?" she asked suddenly.

Azarel folded his arms, his smile growing warmer. "If you follow me, it's by choice, Nora. Not because you're bound to."

Another silence followed, during which Nora slowly rose from her seat. She walked toward the door, her fingers brushing the handle. But she didn't turn it.

Finally, she pivoted back to face him. "Fine. I'll follow you. But on one condition."

Azarel raised a brow. "And that is?"

"You said I'm free. Then I want it to stay that way. No manipulation, no lies."

Azarel burst into laughter, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "I told you, Nora. You're free."

She stared at him for a moment longer, then gave a small, satisfied nod. "Alright. So, what now?"

Azarel stepped toward the window, his gaze fixed on the sky. "Now... we have some fun."