CLEAVER OF SIN

Within a modestly furnished room, which contained only the most basic necessities, a single bed, a wooden chair, and a simple table, a young and strikingly handsome boy, no older than eighteen, could be seen lying on the bed.

His breathing was steady and unhurried, his chest rising and falling with serene rhythm, as though the troubles of the world could never touch him. Sleep wrapped around him like a soft blanket, and in that moment, he looked like someone who had not a single care in existence.

Beyond the four walls of that room, the day had already begun to unfold. The morning sun had ascended proudly into the heavens, its golden brilliance spilling freely across the land below.

Rays of sunlight stretched across the world, shimmering with a grace so dazzling it was as though the sun itself was conscious of its own importance, fully aware that the world could not possibly thrive without its warm embrace.

Though the sun's rays attempted to filter into the room, their entry was impeded by a flimsy curtain that clung to the window. The weak cloth tried to stand firm against the radiant intrusion, but even then, faint streaks of light broke through, gently painting the room in a muted glow.

As Asher slept in quiet peace, the stillness of the air was abruptly disturbed. A voice tore through the silence with the sharpness of a blade cutting through parchment.

"Wake up to reality. Be at the lobby in an hour and a half."

The voice rang with clarity, echoing in the boy's mind before vanishing just as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving behind no trace of its existence, almost as though it had been nothing more than an illusion birthed by his dreams.

For a moment, Asher did not stir. He had heard it, of course, but chose not to react. Seconds trickled away into minutes before he shifted slightly, adjusting his posture on the bed with languid indifference.

"Isn't it too early?" he muttered lazily, his tone half-drenched in complaint. The lazy side of his nature protested against movement, against responsibility, against everything that required effort. He continued lying there, unwilling to acknowledge the summons.

Another handful of minutes slipped past before he finally sat up, dragging his body into a seated position. He rubbed at his eyes with groggy fingers, trying to wipe away the remnants of sleep that still clung stubbornly to him.

"This world is really turning me into a hardworking person," Asher grumbled under his breath, his voice carrying the faintest note of humor laced with genuine irritation. With a reluctant push, he rose from the bed.

'System, set an alarm for an hour and ten minutes,' he commanded silently in his mind.

[Affirmative, Host]

[Done]

The mechanical notification echoed within him, and Asher gave a small nod of acknowledgment. He made his way toward the bathroom, stepping with the sluggish air of one who would rather be doing anything else but still conceding to necessity.

Within minutes, the sound of rushing water ceased, and he emerged freshly bathed, now adorned in a neat set of clothing suitable for the day ahead. His earlier weariness had dulled somewhat, replaced by the crispness that followed a morning routine.

Noticing that he still had more than enough time before his presence would be required, Asher strolled leisurely toward the window. With a simple motion, he pushed the curtain aside, allowing the radiant morning sun to finally stream into the room in its full splendor.

His striking purple eyes gazed outward, surveying the world beyond the glass. Life had already begun its daily cycle, people bustling about, each immersed in their own tasks and responsibilities. The sight was simple, yet it never failed to strike a chord within him.

The longer he observed, the more his respect deepened for the Principal of the Star Academy. This Separate Dimension, crafted and maintained under the Principal's authority, never ceased to amaze him. It was so vividly real, so intricately detailed, that one could almost forget it was not Crymora itself.

His gaze shifted to the side as movement caught his attention. Down below, an Academy instructor was in pursuit of candidates, dragging them out from their hiding places one by one. Amusement sparked in Asher's eyes. Since he had little else to do until his alarm rang, he decided to indulge himself in watching.

With a casual wave of his hand, Astra surged in response. The chair positioned behind him rose smoothly into the air, gliding forward with invisible precision before settling gracefully at his back. Without sparing it even a glance, Asher lowered himself into the seat, leaning back comfortably as he continued to observe the unfolding spectacle outside.

Several candidates, once discovered, attempted to flee in desperation, but their efforts were quickly proven futile. Others were pried from homes they had thought safe. Academy instructors entered the houses of the Separate Dimension residents with polite smiles and respectful bows.

The residents, accustomed to such events, offered no resistance, instead welcoming the instructors inside without hesitation. When the instructors emerged, they often had a struggling candidate in tow. Many had tried to blend in and hide within the resident houses, a tactic clever in its design but hopeless in its execution.

Some of the candidates surrendered easily, accepting their fate with resignation. Others resisted fiercely, for they knew this was their only chance to be accepted by the Star Academy.

Asher watched it all with the faint smile of someone entertained by a theater performance. To him, this was not merely a search, it was a play, and the candidates were its frantic actors.

Suddenly, his head tilted toward the door. His Omni Perception had detected movement, a presence approaching steadily, pushing a food trolley along the hallway.

Letting out a soft sigh, he rose from the chair and walked toward the door. He opened it gently, revealing a girl who appeared to be no older than fifteen. She stood with one hand raised, poised to knock.

"Good morning," she greeted softly, her tone as delicate as her small frame.

"Morning," Asher replied, his voice calm and measured, offering nothing beyond the single word.

For a moment, her black eyes lingered on his face, studying him as though struck by something she could not name. It was the kind of stare that betrayed awe, the awe of someone who had perhaps never seen beauty so refined in a human being before.

"Hello?" Asher's voice cut through her trance, pulling her abruptly back into reality.

"Ah, I'm so sorry for staring," she said quickly, bowing with an embarrassed flush coloring her expression.

"It's fine," Asher assured her gently, a faint smile curving his lips.

With a nod, the girl turned her attention back to the trolley. Her delicate hands lifted a plate, carefully balancing it as she extended it toward him. A polished metallic cloche rested atop the plate, concealing its contents.

"Breakfast," she announced simply.

"Thank you," Asher said as he accepted the plate from her.

The girl bowed lightly once more before continuing down the hallway, her trolley rattling faintly against the floor as she moved further away. She did not look back.

Asher's eyes lingered on her retreating figure for a few moments before dropping to the plate in his hands. With a small shake of his head, he closed the door and returned inside.

He could tell immediately that she was unawakened. Not even the faintest trace of Astra flowed within her body, and to Asher, that truth was as plain as day.

Placing the plate on the table, he removed the cloche with a metallic scrape before walking back toward the window. The show outside still continued, and he was in no hurry to miss it.

After all, for him, it was not too different from what he used to enjoy in his previous life: a simple combination of food and entertainment, something akin to eating a meal while watching YouTube.