Chapter 13 - Painting

Alastor was in a different room from before, a private space that he didn't share with his sister like all the others, such as the bedroom and bathroom. In his hand, a brush with a tip soaked in yellow paint danced between his fingers, gliding smoothly across the blank canvas.

It had been three days since his sister had given him these gifts, something he had unexpectedly come to like after a few hours of trying and failing. Painting had become a pleasant daily routine for him ever since.

At first, he was indecisive, staring at the blank canvas without knowing what to do or even anything to think about. But after a moment's reflection, he simply began to paint. He painted what he felt, what came to mind, without worrying about anything else.

Now, three days after painting a few pictures, it would be difficult for anyone to associate his works with a boy of just ten who had been painting for less than a week.

His hand seemed to move on its own, as if he had been born to paint. Refined, elegant strokes appeared on the immaculate paper as the brush glided almost automatically.

A bead of sweat trickled down Alastor's face as he entered a state of hyperfocus. Despite his fatigue, a happy smile lit up his face as he watched each stroke being painted, the work gradually forming before his eyes.

Sunlight fell on the blank canvas, revealing the figure of a stunning woman with long golden hair and blood-red eyes. She was sitting elegantly in a chair, her hands resting in her lap. A soft, affectionate smile played on her lips. In her black Victorian dress, she looked like a fairy shrouded in mystery and grace.

It was his mother - or aunt - Rowena Agrece. At least, that was how Alastor remembered her in his memories, even though it had been almost ten years since he had last seen her in front of him.

Almost a whole decade without the slightest glimpse of her again. If it weren't for his eidetic memory, he might not even remember her face, her gentle smile and her kiss on his forehead.

His father had never mentioned whether she was dead or alive, and Alastor had never asked either. He preferred to believe that she was still alive, well and safe, rather than face the possibility that her soul had already crossed the gates of hell.

Sometimes, ignorance was the best medicine for a wounded heart. And he clung to this idea, a way of hiding the deep fear of discovering his mother's final fate.

As he finished the last line of the dress, Alastor let out a sigh of exhaustion and rested his brush next to the color palette beside him.

He stretched, relieving the tension that had built up, and cracked his stiff neck after so many hours immersed in painting.

Although his body showed no signs of fatigue, his mind was exhausted. Spending so much time in a state of hyperfocus required a great deal of mental effort, draining his energy intensely.

Suddenly feeling watched, Alastor looked over his shoulder and saw Tereza approaching, carrying a silver tray.

"Young Lord," greeted Tereza, gently placing the tray next to him.

Alastor nodded and opened the tray, revealing a sumptuous breakfast: cheeses, breads, juices, sausages and even roast chicken.

As he nibbled on a slice of cheese, his gaze fixed on the screen in front of him. He couldn't help but flash a satisfied smile as he saw his mother portrayed to perfection, exactly as he remembered her.

"The Young Lord looks a lot like the Duchess," commented Tereza, admiring the painting. The resemblance Rowena shared with Roxane and Alastor was striking. It was impossible to deny that the woman on the canvas was the mother of the Agrece twins.

Alastor nodded slightly as he bit into a piece of bread.

As if remembering something, he turned to Tereza.

"How's Celine's training going?"

Celine was the name of the girl he had rescued - Celine Miller, to be exact. Gregory had adopted the girl on his father's orders. Not that the butler was dissatisfied; on the contrary, the old man had seemed radiant over the last three days.

It seemed that the girl's talent was remarkable, which pleased the old butler many days.

"From what my grandfather said, she chose to become a Witch, specializing in the field of blood and hand-to-hand combat," commented Tereza, with a genuinely surprised tone at the choice of her new sister, whom her grandfather had recently adopted.

Witches, in general, were known for their arrogance and disdain for using their own bodies as weapons. So, Celine's decision was sure to cause astonishment among the members of the Midnight Citadel, where the witches were trained.

Alastor was also surprised, but when he reflected on what Celine had experienced while being held captive like an animal, he could understand. For her, believing that violence was the most practical solution made sense.

Blood. Another choice that Alastor understood perfectly. Celine had witnessed, for days or perhaps weeks, blood being drained from the mutilated bodies of girls the same age as her.

"My Hunt Maiden..." muttered Alastor to himself. Hunt Maiden was an exclusive position in House Agrece, extremely intimate and important. In some ways, it was like a marriage.

The two would be connected by the soul, able to feel what the other felt and, if allowed, even access each other's memories. Thanks to this link, they would have such perfect coordination that it would be impossible for ordinary people to achieve, even after decades of living together.

Honestly, Alastor was surprised that his father had allowed Celine to become his Hunt Maiden. He had expected his father to postpone this choice until he had found a woman with exceptional talents.

However, in Alastor's eyes, Achille was more than satisfied with Celine's talent, enough to choose her as a Hunt Maiden. This showed just how promising the girl really was.

"Where's my sister?" asked Alastor, bringing the glass of grape juice to his lips as his eyes fixed on Tereza. Normally, it was his sister who brought his breakfast, not Tereza.

"The Young Lady is in her room, finishing her studies on mysticism." Tereza replied as she tidied up the mess that was spreading throughout her Young Lord's atelier.

Alastor nodded. His sister was very hard at her training; not that he wasn't. He also trained to exhaustion, although unlike the others, he didn't have to worry about going crazy when his Spirituality was low.

Alastor trained much harder than before, especially after being marked by the Crimson Moon. Since then, his training had intensified like never before. His only moment of rest were the few hours he set aside each day to paint.

Although the profession of Hunter was exclusive to House Agrece, its source of power was no different from any other profession. It depended on Spirituality to manifest the Gift. And as Spirituality was consumed, the risk of falling into madness increased.

This applied to Witches, Knights and Mediums. All powers were based on Spirituality. However, the Knights didn't face the madness of the soul like the Witches and Mediums. Instead, they feared that their bodies would turn into horrible monsters due to the mutagenic potions they used to strengthen their physical abilities.

Of course, although training to exhaustion and coming close to going mad is dangerous, it was extremely beneficial for increasing your resistance to the symptoms of madness and boosting your spirituality.

Although a lot of people don't take such risky training, it costs a lot of money to buy potions that restore your spirituality. In short, only the rich could afford such expensive training, and money was the one thing he didn't lack.

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