CHAPTER 4: MEETING

They entered the building in silence and saw a room surrounded by organized painting supplies. Canvases of various sizes were stacked against one wall, while shelves lined with paint tubes, brushes, and palettes filled the space. The smell of oils and acrylics hung in the air, mixing with the faint scent of turpentine. Theodore moved quickly, setting up an easel in the center of the room and laying out a blank canvas. He rummaged through the cabinet, gathering paints in a range of vibrant colors, readying everything for Azrael's work. 

"I shall take my leave, Your Majesty," Theodore said, retreating into the shadows. Knowing Azrael preferred to paint alone, he left without a word and hid in the shadows where human's eyes cannot reach.

Azrael picked up the brush and started painting, each stroke flowing from his soul as he sank deeper into his work. His hand moved without thought, guided by muscle memory. When he finally set the brush down, a startled exclamation broke the silence. Azrael wasn't surprised as he sensed that there was someone behind before. His perceptions, after all, were different from those of humans.

"Brother, are you a fan of the school idol?"

Azrael, puzzled, turned around to face the girl. "Idol?"

"Yeah! Isn't that who you painted? The hair and clothes are different, but I'm sure it's him!" the girl said confidently.

Azrael turned to his painting, surprised by what he saw. The figure in the painting gazed at him with warm eyes, long black hair tied loosely at the nape, draped over his shoulder. The soft glow of the painting seemed to accentuate the figure's delicate features, and Azrael found himself drawn to the gentle curve of his smile, the kind of smile that seemed to carry secrets, whispered promises, and unspoken longing. Unable to resist, he reached out to touch it—but was interrupted. 

"Hey newbie! Go buy us a drink!"

Azrael snapped out of his daze, turning to the man. "Were you talking to me?"

"Well, obviously! Can't you see me staring at you?" the man smirked, rolling his eyes. "Go get drinks for your seniors!" He could tell Azrael wasn't from around here, as he didn't recognize him. Trying to assert his dominance, he reached out to drape an arm around Azrael's shoulder, but Azrael swiftly dodged, casually patting the nonexistent dust off his shoulder.

Theodore was about to step forward, furious at the disrespect that his master experienced, but Azrael shot him a warning look.

Azrael glanced back at the man who was angry at his earlier action with a cool smile. "Very well, I shall buy a drink," he said, turning away before the man could reply.

Theodore suddenly appeared, startling everyone in the room. He took the painting and went out of the room but before he did so, he glared at Tonfa who gave Azrael the order before following.

"Are you really going to do what he asked?" Theodore asked, hesitating.

"No, I'm not stupid enough to follow his wishes," Azrael said, shaking his head. He found it an amusing experience and only said that to get away. He had overheard someone mention that the cafeteria was far, and only a vending machine was nearby, sparking his curiosity for the said machine.

"Though I said I would fetch a drink, I never specified that it would be for him." he added with a smirk. "Let him wait for a drink that shall never come."

Noticing Theodore still holding the painting, Azrael paused and said, "Take that to Gavin's office and return right away." Theodore bowed and left.

As Azrael strolled along, he spotted a large, mysterious box sitting outside. "Well, that's farther than I thought," he muttered to himself, stepping closer. After a few moments of awkwardly inspecting the strange contraption, he finally found the slot to insert the money.

"Goodness, I really need to relearn reading and writing," Azrael grumbled, squinting at the confusing symbols like they were some sort of secret code. The words felt totally foreign—like he'd woken up in a world where even the alphabet had changed while he was asleep.

Meanwhile, Thristan was still venting at Zephyriel. "I'm telling you, Zephyr, those guys were insane! I mean-they kept bothering you just because they heard from their goddess that you bullied her!" Thristan huffed, clearly exasperated.

Zephyriel, on the other hand, was barely listening, his mind already miles away. He'd already told him he didn't care and had recorded the conversation for a report, but his friend wouldn't stop venting.

As they passed the fine arts building, Zephyriel noticed a man dressed in a rich, medieval noble's outfit that immediately caught his attention. The man wore a finely tailored tunic made of deep, dark velvet, the fabric rich and luxurious, with intricate gold embroidery along the edges and cuffs. The tunic was fitted at the chest and flared out just slightly at the waist, giving it an elegant, almost regal silhouette. Over it, he wore a short, regal cloak draped gracefully over one shoulder, secured with a gold brooch shaped like a lion's head. The man's entire ensemble screamed wealth, status, and a time long past, making him stand out in the modern world like a prince from a forgotten era. 

The man was staring intently at the vending machine, clearly unsure how to use it. Without thinking, his body moved on its own.

"Hey! Where are you going?!" Tristan shouted, calling after his friend who was walking in the opposite direction.

Zephyriel ignored him and walked over to the man's side.

"The money's not enough, that's why it's not working," he said, inserting his own coins. "What drink do you want?" He glanced at the man.

The man had long blonde hair tied in a low ponytail, and his eyes, purple like gems, stared at him in astonishment. Zephyriel noticed his friend smirking from the side, and suddenly felt a wave of embarrassment.

"If you've decided, just push the button," Zephyriel said quickly, trying to regain his composure. "Bye." He turned to walk away, pulling his friend along with him.

"Wipe that grin off your face." He muttered, annoyed. Thristan made a gesture as if zipping his lips, but his smile only grew wider. Zephyriel ignored him, stepping into their department's building.

"Your Majesty, are you alright?" Theodore asked, concerned. After dropping off the painting in the headmaster's office, he returned to find Azrael standing still, looking in the direction of the person wearing a cardigan over a shirt.

"It's him," Azrael murmured, pressing his hand to his chest. His heart was racing. It didn't make sense. Vampires typically had slow heartbeats, a reason they always felt cold. Yet the moment he saw that person, everything blurred and his focus was entirely on him, unable to look away

"Shall we go, Your Majesty?" Theodore asked.

Azrael nodded slowly. "Did you see him, Theodore? He was as captivating as the figure in the painting, perhaps even more so," he said with a soft smile, full of affection. He turned and walked toward the moving vehicle, Theodore following silently behind.

Theodore glanced back, but that person was gone, yet his eyes glimmered with unknown light.