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

A door closed behind Sion with a soft click, but the silence that followed felt like a roar in her chest. She stood motionless outside Naoko's office, her lips pressed into a thin line, crimson lipstick now smeared slightly from tension. Her hand hovered over her heart as if trying to cage in the frantic fluttering beneath her ribs.

**Trash.**

That word rang in her ears like a curse.

She had heard Naoko say terrible things before—about enemies, traitors, even gods. But never had she heard her refer to **her own blood** with such venomous disregard.

**"Jin… the rest is trash."**

The phrase tore at something deep within Sion's chest, like a claw scraping the underside of her ribs. She thought of the boy—no, the young man—growing like a thorn in the dark. Groomed like a tool. Starved of love and overfed on expectation.

Sion's heels clicked sharply as she walked away from the door, her composure brittle. Her hips swayed with mechanical confidence, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

> "Focus on Estelle..."

Naoko's words had never been suggestions. They were verdicts.

But jin... he wasn't trash.

Not when she had seen him stare out the window of his tower room, watching the world burn from afar, his eyes glowing like molten gold pressed into cold glass. Not when he curled into himself in the library after Naoko left, fingertips trembling just above the spines of old books, as if seeking stories where he could still matter.

Back behind the rune-etched doors, Naoko sat alone. The ink on her page had dried, yet her pen remained suspended in mid-air, hovering like a blade over flesh.

For the first time in hours, she leaned back.

The leather of her throne groaned softly.

A shaft of silver light touched her cheek through the tall window, illuminating the iridescent patterns across her face like runes of ancient ice.

She slowly exhaled.

Her fingers tightened on the quill until it snapped in half with a sharp *crack*, ink splattering across her papers like a bloodstain.

She did not react. Only her eyes narrowed, silver storms swirling in their depths.

"He merges himself with the barrier again" 

Naoko turned her gaze toward the window

In the palace gardens, a small girl with hair like starlight was kneeling in the soil. Estelle.

She laughed softly as a cluster of glowing butterflies circled her hands. Her silver eyes shimmered with innocence untouched by the weight of her name.

Behind a hedge, a figure watched her silently. Cloaked in energy, unseen by most.

**Zakaros.**

He stood without a body, his form diffused into the breeze, his essence woven into the very mana of the air. His presence was vast—too vast to be caged in flesh.

And yet…

> "She saw me," he murmured.

The little girl had looked directly into his hidden form the moment he arrived, tilted her head… and smiled.

It was not a smile of fear.

It was recognition.

> "She carries her mother's blood," Zakaros whispered. 

He chuckled, low and deep.

Then, with a hum of ancient power, Zakaros began weaving his essence into the barrier that encircled the Roche estate. A black veil laced with his own signature of death and divinity.

> "I will protect this fortress until the time comes," he murmured. "From gods… and from what crawls beneath them."

A pulse of dark light emanated from the obsidian walls. Birds took flight. The grass withered slightly before recovering. Even the sun hesitated behind the clouds.

Moments later, **Sion** appeared by the marble arch that overlooked the inner garden.

She didn't flinch as the heavy air brushed her cheek. She knew what it was.

> "You returned quickly, you damned mutt," she said with a teasing lilt, her arms folded beneath her chest.

> "I'm a lion, my lady. A god-killing lion," Zakaros replied dryly, his voice manifesting as a ripple in the air behind her.

> "Still a dog to me." She smirked.

> "I was there when your gods bled on the stone," he murmured. "I watched them scream. I made them scream."

Sion shrugged. "Congratulations. Do you want a biscuit?"

He sighed.

> "Mortals. Always ungrateful."

> "No," she corrected, eyes twinkling. "Just the ones who clean up after gods."

Then, with a nod, Sion turned and walked away, her laughter echoing faintly behind her.

> "She's amusing," Zakaros muttered, before stretching his essence into the full perimeter of the estate.

Then, he whispered to himself, low and deliberate:

" I seem to have become such an old lion that I like to stay in the barrier role"

He turned his attention skyward—toward something distant. Something approaching.

> "Well time to sleep now and f*ck you Akai "