CLEAVER OF SIN Chapter 663: Emotions

Asher's steps echoed softly down the Wargrave family building's corridor. His recent meeting with Azaron concluded, he was now en route back to his chamber. This time, however, his pace was distinctly unhurried, a faint smile gracing his lips, a testament to a burgeoning happiness. He seemed lost in contemplative thought, his typical stoicism softened by an unfamiliar, gentle warmth.

The source of Asher's contentment was the recent interaction with Azaron. His formidable memory ceaselessly replayed the encounter, each word and subtle nuance looping with uncanny precision. He had never known paternal affection. Even during his past existence as Ethan, a life where he had resolved to sever ties with his parents just as they had with him, his emotions were unexpectedly stirred, contradicting the cultivated indifference he thought he had embraced.

Though he had never personally experienced the love, care, and attentiveness of a father, he had now, and he found himself immersed in the reflection of these emotions and thoughts. It was, after all, difficult to command the emotions and thoughts that surfaced, especially when they arrived unbidden yet strangely welcomed.

A fleeting thought surfaced: 'I hope this isn't a singular event.' A cautious part of him suggested that Azaron's openness might be fleeting, perhaps a result of subtle manipulation by the Emperor. Reasons beyond his current comprehension likely prevented Azaron from acting against the Emperor.

Asher dismissed the notion with a shake of his head. It was irrelevant for now; he would discover the truth at their next meeting. Speculation offered no practical benefit in the interim.

He continued his silent perambulation, the faint sound of his footfalls the only interruption. Presently, another contemplation arose: 'I wonder about Lily.' The term 'mother' felt alien, considering her demise and absence since his transmigration a year prior. She had left only fragmented memories and unanswered questions.

Asher pondered the kind of woman she must have been. Simultaneously, a suspicion of a conspiracy behind her death began to form. The available information categorized her as a Crownstar Life Ranker, and a ranker of such caliber succumbing to childbirth seemed tragically ironic, almost a mockery of her status.

He reflected that even in his prior life as Ethan on Earth, numerous women had navigated childbirth multiple times without complication, and they were ordinary individuals. Asher let out a sigh, his thoughts drifting. Having known Jennifer and delved into extensive medical literature, he understood that biology was a realm of both profound mystery and remarkable wonder, often defying the most logical predictions.

'Not every event necessitates a grand conspiracy,' Asher reasoned internally, his steps maintaining a calm, deliberate rhythm. Indeed, not everything unfolded according to a meticulously crafted plan. Moreover, considering his Father and Elder Brother's personalities, if Lily's death had been suspicious, action would have been taken eighteen years ago, he concluded, allowing logic to temporarily anchor his wandering mind.

'A dying wish to protect me, was it?' His thoughts lingered on Lily. 'It appears my predictions of banishment by Father and assassination upon leaving the Ducal Wargrave territory were merely figments of my imagination, fueled by excessive novel consumption in my past life,' Asher mused, a hint of amusement at how fiction had shaped his perception of reality.

Yet, he couldn't fault himself. Having just transmigrated then, assuming the worst seemed the most prudent course. After all, novelistic tropes frequently aligned with such predictable patterns, and caution felt like the only sensible approach in an unfamiliar world.

For the very first time since his transmigration, Asher felt a pang of pity for the original Asher—the one who had ended his life before it had truly begun its unfolding.

Upon his transmigration, Asher had felt nothing towards the original host. He neither judged nor pitied his act of suicide. Ethan had remained ambivalent regarding Asher's situation, but now something subtle yet undeniable began to stir within him, refusing to be dismissed.

The mother's dying wish was now rendered moot. Azaron, who had pledged to protect Asher, had failed precisely one year ago, driven by a desire to prevent his children from becoming spoiled, deluded noble brats, blinded by comfort and a false sense of security.

For the first time in his year of transmigration, Ethan felt like an utter fraud, the uncomfortable realization dawning on him as his thoughts began to race uncontrollably.

Had Azaron not spoken of Lily’s final wish, Ethan’s feelings might have been different; he had always acknowledged his inherent selfishness from the outset, which was precisely why he’d seamlessly adopted Asher’s persona… though to be fair, he hadn’t exactly possessed the option to vacate Asher’s body in the first place.

Yet… despite his selfishness, he wasn’t a complete monster.

His mind flashed back to Asher’s suicide note, a document he had carelessly discarded without a second glance back then. After all, Asher’s memories were now his own, and the contents were no secret; his thoughts then drifted to the potent concoction Asher had ingested to end his life, a quiet, desperate act that now resonated with a profound significance it hadn't held before.

Ethan couldn’t help but let out a sigh as a novel wave of emotions and concerns for Asher, feelings he’d never previously encountered, washed over him—all thanks to a mother’s dying plea that stubbornly refused to fade, even beyond the veil of death.

But would Asher, in some sudden turn of events, rise up and declare to Malrik or Azaron that their son and brother’s body had been usurped? The answer wasn't a simple 'probably not'; it was an unshakeable 'never,' absolute and definitive.

Malrik would undoubtedly be the first to strike him down, perhaps mistaking him for some Emovira capable of implanting its essence or memories into a human vessel, viewing the mentally fragile and emotionally shattered Asher as the ideal host. Azaron, that ever-stoic and composed figure, would most likely resort to imprisonment, possibly for eternity, until a method was discovered to restore the genuine Asher, no matter the exorbitant price.

Therefore, even if a hundred years hence, under the hypothetical scenario where he could confront Azaron, Malrik, and the entirety of the Wargrave lineage alone and prevail with effortless grace, Ethan would never utter a single confession, irrespective of the circumstances or the ensuing repercussions.

With these heavy thoughts occupying his mind, he entered his chambers as the door swung open with uncharacteristic smoothness; as was his custom, he gravitated towards the window, where he stood motionless, gazing out at the vast, ever-expanding Wargrave domain. From his elevated position, it appeared utterly boundless, stretching unfathomably beyond the distant horizon like an empire that recognized no limits.