Im'the son of the Villainess's at the Academy

The grand halls of the Leonhardt estate were hushed, midday sunlight streaming through tall windows that danced across marble floors. On that splendid autumn morning in 2008, Charles Leonhardt—storm-gray hair, eyes that glowed a deep violet—paced with barely contained pride. Beside him, his wife, Marguerite Leonhardt, glided forward like dawn itself—white hair cascading gracefully, crystalline blue eyes warm as summer skies.

They stood, hand in hand, watching their seven-year-old twins at the center of the training courtyard. Little Leona's long silver-white hair fluttered around her bright blue eyes. Her twin, Nox, exuded intensity even at that tender age—his posture proud, limbs lithe, a spark of natural strength shining in his red-speckled eyes.

**The twin challenge** — a Leonhardt family tradition of mentoring and rivalry. Today, the twins would face off in a friendly spar, a display of skill and will shaped by lineage.

Nox launched forward with youthful confidence, quick feet and agile stance. Leona met him, deflecting lightly with her gloved hand—her expression gentle, yet firm. Each touch of their padded staves tapped out a brother-and-sister melody of skill and play.

"Big brother, you're so strong," Leona whispered, voice soft and sincere. She smiled, cheeks rosy, eyes bright with admiration.

Nox grinned in return, chest proud. "Of course," he said lightly. "I'm your older brother. I want to be strong enough to protect you."

Across the courtyard, servants and siblings applauded; young aristocrats peered behind silk drapes. Marguerite clapped with a radiant smile, voice warm as sunlight:

**"Well done, Nox! And you too, Leona—you were amazing."**

She swept forward and hugged them both tenderly, pressing gentle kisses to their foreheads—one at a time.

Children's laughter tinkled in the courtyard. Marguerite's blue eyes shone with joy. Watching from the courtyard's entrance, Charles's stern features softened as he stepped forward, voice steady but kind:

**"Excellent, Nox and Leona. I'm proud of you both."**

Charles placed a protective hand on each child's shoulder. His eyes, mirrored in Leona and Nox gaze, harbored a fierce yet quiet pride.

Nox and Leona beamed, basking in the warmth of their parents' approval. It was a perfect moment of harmony: strength, love, family.

Afterwards, the twins retreated to their respective chambers—Nox's door framed by carved obsidian, Leona's by silvery mahogany—each greeted by delighted staff and whispered praise.

For those two years, life continued with grace and routine. Daily training, guided by their mother's gentle hand and their father's iron will. Nox flourished—he grew stronger every week, his confidence building in parallel. Leona matched him with her grace and calm determination, forging a bond both loving and competitive.

Then came the year Nox turned **nine**—a pivot in his young life that would shift everything, irrevocably.