Jeanne couldn't sleep. Ever since that harrowing dream and her encounter with Marquis Xirgo, sleep had completely bid her farewell. Between crafting meticulous strategies to dismantle the Marquis's influence, maintaining her flawless academic performance, and secretly managing the sprawling affairs of her cult, the overwhelming burden had begun to take its toll.
She glanced at the glowing digital clock resting on her bedside table. It read 2:00 A.M.
"Everything feels so tangled..." Jeanne thought, staring blankly up at the dark ceiling. "I still cannot fathom why I experienced that dream... what it was truly trying to show me..."
Sighing softly, Jeanne rose from her bed and stepped out onto her private balcony. The midnight sky above the academy grounds was breathtaking—a vast obsidian canvas dazzled with shimmering stars and distant, glowing nebulae that showcased their cosmic beauty. As the cool night breeze rustled her sleeveless black nightgown, she found herself lost in deep contemplation, her long hair swaying gently against her bare shoulders.
"So many questions... yet not a single concrete answer," She thought, her eyes tracking a distant comet trailing across the heavens.
Suddenly, a quiet realisation struck her. A faint, self-deprecating smile curved her lips, amused by how foolishly naive she had been acting. The answer had been sitting right in front of her all along.
Jeanne stepped back inside, slipped into a pair of soft house slippers, and walked out of her dorm room, not even bothering to change out of her nightgown. After an eight-minute trek through the silent, dimly lit residential corridors, she halted before a grand dorm suite. A polished golden plaque mounted on the dark wood read: Amon Von Crown.
She reached out and knocked a few times politely, then waited patiently in the quiet hallway.
Precisely three minutes later, the heavy door swung open. Amon stood in the doorway dressed in simple red sleeping pyjamas, his hair slightly dishevelled as he rubbed his tired eyes beneath his blindfold.
"What... is it, Jeanne?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep as he let out a soft yawn. "Has something gone wrong...?"
"I would like to speak directly with Amou," Jeanne replied smoothly, offering a warm, polite smile. "And... if my senses aren't deceiving me, I detect Senior Valkaress's presence inside your room as well..."
"Well... I did mention her behaviour to you before, didn't I?" Amon deadpanned, his expression thoroughly exhausted. "What business do you have with Amou at this hour?"
"I simply have a few lingering questions that only she can answer," Jeanne explained calmly. "And to be frank, I assumed you were exaggerating when you told me about Senior Valkaress."
"Why would I joke about something like that?" Amon let out a long, weary sigh. "She routinely sneaks through my window, crawls into my bed, and clings to me like a giant body pillow... And for reasons beyond my comprehension, neither Amou nor Tiamat seem to mind her doing it in the slightest."
"My, you certainly have it rough," Jeanne remarked, nodding with a deeply sympathetic expression—though Amon knew her well enough to recognise the blatant sarcasm laced beneath her tone. "In any case, may I speak with Amou?"
"I suppose..." Amon muttered.
He flicked his wrist, manifesting his wand between his fingers, and pointed it toward the open space beside Jeanne in the hallway.
"Evocatio Familiaris: Amou."
A brilliant, intricate magic circle erupted across the floorboards, pulsing with concentrated magium. A second later, the light condensed, and Amou materialised into the corridor.
"Aw, Master~" Amou pouted cutely, crossing her arms as she looked up at him with exaggerated disappointment. "I was right in the middle of showing off my best trophies to Tiamat! You summoned me just as I was about to reveal the most interesting one~"
"I will give you lots of headpats and cuddles later to make it up to you," Amon yawned, his eyelids drooping as he gestured lazily toward their guest. "For now, Jeanne has something she needs to ask you."
Amon's pout dissolved instantly into pure, bubbly excitement. "Really? You better hold yourself to that promise, Master!~" she squealed, sounding absolutely thrilled.
"Yeah, yeah..." Amon mumbled, turned his back on them, and lazily wandered back into his dark room. "Go take your conversation somewhere else; I actually need to sleep..."
Without even looking back to bid them goodnight, he pulled the heavy wooden door shut, the latch clicking securely into place.
. . .
Jeanne sat opposite Amou on her private balcony, the midnight breeze rustling her dark gown. She silently organised her thoughts, carefully weighing how to frame her words.
"You've been silently contemplating for the past five minutes," Amou finally broke the silence, her expression a picture of playful calmness as she leaned back against her chair. "Thinking too hard will not solve whatever questions are weighing on your mind. Simply ask, and I shall answer."
Jeanne lifted her head, her gaze meeting Amou's. "Hmm," she hummed softly before responding. "You see, I experienced a deeply unsettling dream some time ago."
"A dream where I witnessed Amon's death," Jeanne added, her voice dropping into a calm, composed register. "I saw him lying broken on the ground, bleeding out while Seraphina desperately tried her best to heal his wounds. But every effort was entirely futile. Before he drew his final breath, Amon looked at me and explicitly entrusted everyone's safety to my hands. Then he passed away, and I woke up in a cold sweat, completely baffled by what I had seen."
Amou listened intently, her playful demeanour settling into a thoughtful silence for a few moments after Jeanne concluded her explanation.
"It is actually quite simple," Amou said, a gentle smile returning to her face. "Before I elaborate, tell me—do you believe in the concept of soulmates?"
Jeanne paused, considering the question before replying. "I am not entirely sure... I have never given the notion of soulmates much thought..."
"Well, it happens to be a fundamental truth of Creation," Amou explained casually, swirling her finger in the air. "Every single being possesses a destined partner. Certain individuals can even harbour multiple soulmates—not merely due to their capabilities, but because the fundamental laws of Creation allotted them more than one divine bond."
Amou's smile broadened slightly. "In fact, I heard a remarkably similar story from Seraphina not too long ago. She confessed to me that she saw Amon's death in a dream, and the sight of it utterly terrified her."
Jeanne's eyes widened in genuine astonishment. "Seraphina saw a similar vision as well...?" she murmured, sounding thoroughly taken aback.
"Indeed. And every single piece of this puzzle connects back to one undeniable fact," Amou stated, her tone light and casual. "It is because both you and Seraphina are his destined soulmates."
"What nonsense—" Jeanne instinctively began to scoff, but Amou cut her off mid-sentence.
"Mind your tongue, Jeanne," Amou warned softly, her sweet smile instantly turning utterly ominous. "Calling my Authority 'nonsense' should be the last mistake you ever make."
A violent, freezing shiver ran down Jeanne's spine. The casual facade dropped in an instant, reminding her of the terrifying reality: the entity sitting across from her was no ordinary familiar, but a Primordial Beast. Provoking an entity of her calibre was a swift recipe for total annihilation.
"I deeply apologise for my impudence," Jeanne said, her voice genuine and bowing her head in sincere regret.
"In any case," Amou continued, her sweet demeanour returning as if the oppressive shift in gravity had never happened, "my Authority, [Sequence of Desire], grants me the power to perceive the destined partner or partners of any existence, uncover every hidden truth about them, and subtly rewrite the past of anyone so long as they reside within the boundaries of fate. Furthermore, it allows me to exist entirely outside the constraints of cause-and-effect, probability, fate, and even the plot of any world's narrative. Naturally, I can manipulate and rewrite those very concepts at will."
Jeanne looked at Amou, her eyes widening in genuine shock. She had always known that Amon's Primordial Beast familiars possessed terrifying strength, but hearing the true nature of Amou's Authority completely shattered her perspective. It made her wonder—with an underlying sense of awe and dread—how a mortal, even one as exceptional as Amon, had managed to bind such eldritch entities. They weren't just servants; they listened to his every whim, catered to his moods, and harboured a level of devotion that bordered on religious worship.
"Tiamat and I are both destined to Master as well," Amou added, her smile turning deeply amused as she took in Jeanne's utterly stunned expression. "As to how I became aware of this fact, it is quite simple. I activated my own Authority to look into the cosmic threads and see who I was destined for, and I saw that I belonged to Master. From that moment on, the rest became entirely self-explanatory, wouldn't you agree?~"
Jeanne took a slow, steadying breath, pressing a hand against her chest as she tried to process the sheer scale of what she was being told.
"So those dreams... the visions of Amon dying..." Jeanne murmured, her mind rapidly connecting the dots. "They weren't premonitions of a future, were they? They were residual echoes... fragments of a fate or timeline that was altered before it could come to pass."
"Bingo~" Amou purred softly, leaning forward with her chin resting on her folded hands. "Because you and Seraphina share a fundamental soul bond with Master, your subconscious minds are naturally attuned to his presence across the strands of fate. What you saw was a memory of a rejected reality—a path where he met his end before I wove my influence around him. My Authority ensures that such a pathetic ending will never come to fruition in this world."
Jeanne let out a long, silent breath, looking out at the star-lit sky over the academy dorms. The weight of knowing that her own destiny was intrinsically tied to Amon's—and that eldritch entities were casually manipulating the very narrative of their existence to ensure his survival—was almost too much to wrap her head around.
"I see..." Jeanne said softly, regaining her usual calm, dignified posture. "Then I suppose I should be grateful that you are on his side."
"On his side?" Amou chuckled, a sweet, chilling melody that vibrated through the cool night air. "My dear Jeanne... I am his. Now, if you have no further questions, I believe I have lots of headpats and cuddles waiting for me~"
"Wait a moment..." Jeanne called out, her hand half-raised as if trying to anchor the Primordial Beast in place before she could leave. "If your Authority grants you such terrifying control over fate... then what about all the tribulations and suffering Amon has endured thus far?"
"It is to grow him, of course," Amou shrugged casually, her expression making it seem as obvious as night and day. "Besides, it is utterly thrilling to watch Master overcome impossible obstacles through his own genius~ Every triumph makes me want to love him so much more!~"
As she spoke, a manic glint of pure, unhinged devotion ignited deep within her eyes, radiating an intensity so suffocating that Jeanne involuntarily flinched.
"She is a complete and total psychopath," Jeanne thought, a dark knot of dread tightening in the pit of her stomach. "I could almost understand her reasoning with the Red King, given how Amon survived... but to actively allow him to bleed to death at the hands of an Aimus assassin just for the sake of his 'growth' and her own entertainment...? Her idea of love is utterly twisted."
. . .
Amon sat near the back of the lecture group, rubbing his blindfolded eyes with a quiet, suppressed groan. Ever since Jeanne had knocked on his door in the dead of night to fetch Amou, his sleep cycle had been completely ruined. As an excessively light sleeper, once his rest was interrupted, falling back asleep was practically an impossible task.
Out on the academy's vast, sunlit open field, Professor Oberyn Lockhart's smooth, friendly voice resonated across the gathered students, delivering a passionate lecture on proper familiar dynamics and battlefield synergy.
"As I emphasised during our very first session," Oberyn said warmly, addressing the class. "Establishing a genuine, harmonious bond with your familiar is paramount. They are not mere tools to be commanded; they are trusted companions who will stand beside you, turn the tide of combat, or pull you from the brink of disaster with their unique abilities."
With a light snap of his fingers, a brilliant blue avian manifested directly onto Oberyn's shoulder. While it bore a striking resemblance to a kestrel, notable differences set it apart—most prominently a radiant white gem embedded in the centre of its forehead and an exceptionally long, sweeping tail plume.
The moment it appeared, the creature leaned in, affectionately rubbing its head against Oberyn's neck. Oberyn smiled softly, gently scratching its chin and petting its feathers. The charming display instantly caused a collective murmur of admiration to ripple through the female students, with several bursting into hushed squeals of delight.
"I am infinitely grateful that Jacqueline helped me shut down that absurd fan club, [Amon's Future Brides]..." Amon thought to himself, letting out a weary, internal sigh. "Deafening squealing and unneeded public attention are genuinely exhausting..."
His irritation was entirely justified. Situated at the very back of the outdoor formation, he had strategically planned to catch a quick, covert nap behind his classmates. However, the sudden chorus of excited reactions had thoroughly shattered his lingering daze.
"You don't look well at all, Amon," Seraphina's voice drifted over, hushed and laced with deep worry. "Your complexion is unusually pale... Did you fail to get any rest last night? Is something bothering you?"
Before he could respond, she leaned in close, her soft, warm hands gently cupping his cheeks to inspect his tired face.
"I am fine, Sera," Amon offered a reassuring, gentle smile as he reached up, placing his fingers over hers and giving her hand a tender squeeze. "It's simply that I received some rather troublesome news from Mother recently regarding my aunt, Daphne Von Crown. She hasn't been feeling her best, so it kept my mind occupied through the night."
"Oh no... What happened to Lady Daphne?" Seraphina asked, her bright eyes filled with genuine anxiety for his family.
"She is currently expecting her third child, and... well, you know how delicate and demanding things become during a high-risk pregnancy," Amon explained smoothly, shifting his hand to lightly stroke her silky hair with a fond expression.
"I see... I truly hope she remains safe and healthy," Seraphina murmured, her tense expression relaxing instantly under his soothing touch as she instinctively leaned her head into his palm.
"Every single time she does this, I end up falling for her ten times harder!" Amon's internal thoughts erupted into a chaotic storm of utter adoration. "How is it even possible for someone to be this impossibly pure, kind, and precious...?! I love this girl with every fibre of my being! PLEASE MARRY ME ALREADY!"
"Mr Crown," Professor Oberyn called out, his voice echoing across the open field and causing the entire class to turn their attention back toward Amon and Seraphina.
The moment his name was called, Amon smoothly withdrew his hand from Seraphina's head. Seraphina instantly composed herself, a subtle blush dusting her cheeks, though her posture remained impeccably aristocratic.
"Professor, I must politely decline any offer to perform a demonstration today," Amon said in a smooth, effortless register as he stood up, his blindfolded gaze fixed precisely in Oberyn's direction. "And as for your companion, it is a Bird of Wisdom—a high-grade A-Rank familiar, though judging by the subtle resonance of its magium signature, it is on the cusp of evolving into an S-Rank."
A quiet ripple of surprise passed through the surrounding students at Amon's instant, effortless identification of the rare creature.
"If I may offer a suggestion," Amon added seamlessly, "you should invite Miss Halestone and Mr Pantalone to handle the practical demonstration instead. Those two have been paying exceptionally close attention throughout your lecture."
"Now please go bother someone else and let me enjoy my time with my precious Sera!" An imaginary vein throbbed violently on Amon's forehead despite his impeccably calm demeanour.
. . .
As Lucy and Percy demonstrated a familiar duel, as per Professor Oberyn's instructions, the chat interface hovered at the periphery of Amon's consciousness, the barrage of Super Chats glowing in brilliant colours as hundreds of thousands of viewers chimed in on his love life.
ImaginaryLover712: "Now that I think about it, why does the Streamer even love Seraphina in the first place? What's his reason?" | (Donated 6,200 SCs)
FangirlingIsMyPassion: "If I remember, the Streamer said that he loves her for no reason. He doesn't care about her external beauty, but who she is. I AM SO JEALOUS! OML! IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME, NOT HER!" | (Donated 9,000 SCs)
MachineDeus: "So sad that your ugly ahh wants to be in Seraphina's place." | (Donated 5,000 SCs)
RandomGuy69: "Lmfao, but fr tho. Does he actually love her for no reason?" | (Donated 4,000 SCs)
"Yes, I don't need a reason to love her. Go and hang yourself," Amon spat back mentally, his internal voice dripping with venom before he forcefully minimised the streaming interface with a flick of his mind.
A pulse of genuine irritation throbbed behind his temples. He utterly despised how these nameless, faceless entities in his audience felt entitled to analyse, dissect, or question the purity of his devotion to Seraphina.
To him, love was not a calculated transaction based on traits, utility, or aesthetic perfection. It was an absolute, fundamental truth. If Seraphina were to ever ask for his heart, he wouldn't hesitate, bargain, or second-guess—he would carve it out of his chest and place it in her hands with a smile. It sounded absurdly corny, like something ripped straight out of a cheap romance novel, but Amon knew with terrifying clarity that he meant every single word.
Beside him, Seraphina felt his sudden, subtle shift in mood. She glanced over, her soft fingers gently tightening around his beneath the desk.
"Amon?" She whispered, her bright eyes searching his blindfolded face. "Is something wrong?"
Amon's internal irritation evaporated instantly, replaced by that familiar, overwhelming wave of warmth. He turned his head toward her, his lips curving into a genuine, affectionate smile as he squeezed her hand back.
"Nothing at all, Sera," he murmured. "Just remembering how incredibly lucky I am."