House Deimos. One of the strongest exorcist clans in the world, said to descend from a cursed celestial who drank death like wine and turned pain into power.
They weren't just warriors. They were pain-weavers. Death-born. People whispered their name like a prayer during plagues and war.
And yet, even among the legends, there was hierarchy.
House Deimos was split: the Main Family, direct descendants of the original Bloodline, and the Branch Family, adopted long ago to serve and support. Though the branch had no true Deimos blood, centuries of close contact, of shared Aether had changed them.
Twisted them.
It wasn't just imitation anymore. Their features—the main family had one color of hair— red, now due to years of mixed Aether and marriage the branch family hair had turned dark red, a mixture of Demios dominant Aether and their personal Aether —eyes that shimmered like cooled embers instead of the violent red, voices that carried the same weary weight—had started to mirror the main line. Even their auras carried that faint scent of inevitability.
But even with the same robes and similar power, the line was drawn deep.
And Zephyr—the body he now inhabited—was born to the Main Family. The last-born of four. The one who carried the "purest drop" of the original death-scorched bloodline.
And yet… he had not awakened.
The shame echoed through the halls of the citadel like a lingering ghost.
Especially since Serena, a mere branch family child once assigned as a sparring servant, had awakened the Clan's gift before him. She had summoned the black thorns of agonized pain when she was two.
The same thorns he should've wielded.
Instead, he'd only offered silence.
Even now, in his thoughts, Zephyr—or whoever this body once was—felt like a statue among flames. Out of place. Out of time. A carved disappointment in a family built on raw suffering and spectacle.
And now, with a new soul behind those eyes—a stranger—he was even more of a disgrace.
"Damn it…" Zephyr muttered, dragging his hands down his face.
This wasn't just about playing the role.
This was survival in a family that didn't tolerate weakness.
'This zephyr guy was morally screwed'. Not only did he not awaken the flame but a girl from the branch family had awaken. He begun to wonder how he had survived ever since, he could see from the memories the scorn and reproach the boy had endured.
The maid gave him one last look, her expression still filled with pity, before she turned and exited the room with a practiced, silent grace. The door closed softly behind her, leaving only the lingering echoes of the high, stone walls.
For a moment, the room felt eerily quiet, like the calm before the storm. But just as his heart began to settle, the door opened again, and she stepped inside again.
'Didn't she just Left, what is she doing here again'.
"Young Master," she greeted softly, her voice soothing like a gentle breeze. "I will go prepare the bath."
He blinked, still a little disoriented by the overwhelming strangeness of everything around him. The reality of the situation settled deeper into his bones with every passing second.
Without waiting for him to respond, the maid turned and walked to the door. He could hear her preparing something beyond the threshold of the room, the soft rustling of fabric and the clink of something delicate.
After a moment, she returned to the room entering again, her presence announced. She gave a small smile, and then in her quiet, polite voice, she informed him once more.
"Your bath is ready, Young Master."
The words sank in, and with an inward sigh, he nodded slowly, acknowledging the inevitable. There was no way around it—he had to bathe. At least here, he would have to adjust, no matter how embarrassing or uncomfortable it was.
"Thank you," he muttered, standing up and brushing a hand through his disheveled hair. A fleeting thought of escape crossed his mind, but there was no escaping this moment.
He glanced at the maid, still standing by the door, and then his gaze drifted to the bathroom entrance, or tried to figure it out, he could now make out of his environment cause the widow had been covered by the large curtains. Although everywhere was still blurry he could now make out of his environment.
"Lead the way," he mumbled to himself, his voice low.
She nodded, gesturing for him to follow. He hesitated for a moment before walking to the door, his thoughts still a mess of confusion. He had no idea what to expect.
The maid led him toward the adjacent door, which creaked open with the same quiet elegance that seemed to follow her every movement. She stepped aside to allow him to enter, and he took in the room before him with a sharp inhale.
The bathroom was nothing like he had ever seen before. The space was vast and luxurious, with polished marble floors that gleamed under the soft light of gold-trimmed chandeliers hanging from the high, vaulted ceiling. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting serene landscapes—lush forests, vast fields, and rivers that sparkled under a radiant sun.
To the far side of the room was a massive bathtub, carved from a single block of what appeared to be obsidian stone. The tub was wide enough to comfortably fit two people, its surface smooth and flawless, with delicate gold filigree etched around the rim. Steam rose lazily from the warm, sparkling water inside, giving off a fragrant aroma that reminded him of wildflowers mixed with fresh rain.
Beside the tub was a brass faucet, the handles shaped like delicate dragon heads, their eyes glimmering with small jewels. The water flowed from them with a gentle cascade, the sound soft yet steady, filling the air with a tranquil rhythm.
On the opposite side of the room, a large mirror hung on the wall, framed in the same gold filigree as the faucets. It was so polished that it looked like a window into another world. A wooden vanity sat beneath it, with finely detailed shelves holding crystal bottles and porcelain jars filled with perfumes, oils, and lotions.
A set of towels, thick and plush, were neatly stacked on a nearby stand, along with an assortment of sponges and washcloths that seemed to be arranged in an orderly fashion, ready for use.
The bathroom was opulent, like something you'd expect in a royal palace. It made his small room in the castle feel humble by comparison.
He stepped in hesitantly, taking in the extravagant surroundings. The maid followed behind him, still as composed as ever, her expression professional and serene.
"Everything is prepared, Young Master," she said, her voice slightly warmer now, though she maintained the same respectful tone.
He started to take off his shirt with a sigh but stopped when he realized a presence behind him. With hesitation he turned to her. "Hmmm what are you still doing here". His voice clad in confusion.
[Author note: I wanted to make his adjustments to this new life longer but it quickly became boring even for me, so I decided to speed up the adjustment.
The book is now ready to accept power stone please do support with with a few, it will serve as a source of dedication.
An thanks for reading]