Path of the Extra Chapter 392: Redo. Redo. Redo.

In contrast to Azriel, Jasmine kept her mask on. She felt grateful for that choice this time around. No one could catch the twisted expression distorting her features.

Yet that barely made a difference. Her eyes stayed fixed on her tightly clenched fists in her lap, as Azriel beside her observed the central performer with a serenity that disturbed her deeply. Spectators had assembled, staring in awe while the acrobat vaulted through a blazing hoop. Children exclaimed in amazement. Adults applauded, captivated.

After all she had learned thus far, Jasmine experienced just two emotions.

Sorrow. And rage.

Leo Karumi’s existence had been so viciously cruel and warped.

"What then...?" Jasmine inquired, despite a part of her wishing otherwise. Yet she sensed the necessity.

She needed to know.

She had to know.

How could she resist learning about the life her younger brother had endured before?

Still, even after her question, Azriel remained silent. He hadn’t lingered much recounting his days up to middle school’s close—nothing like this pause.

Raising her head a bit, Jasmine glanced his way. He stayed as motionless as when he began.

"Azriel," she murmured gently.

That snapped him from his trance. He turned to her and replied softly, "Hmm?"

Jasmine compressed her lips, suppressing her feelings before they colored her tone.

"What happened then?"

Plenty remained untold, as Jasmine realized. Like why his father got scarce mention, almost as if Azriel shunned the topic on purpose.

"Ah..." His mouth opened, then he scowled and shut it. He appeared torn on proceeding.

"I... I’m not sure you’d want to hear it," he finally stated. "It might prove uncomfortable for you, especially after Lea’s suicide."

And everything prior?

Jasmine edged nearer, her eyes—peeking through mask slits—locked on him intently. Azriel tilted his head and met her stare.

"I didn’t inquire about your days as Leo Karumi expecting comfort."

Azriel wavered still. Then he exhaled lowly and shifted back to the show.

"...I’m not comfortable," he whispered.

Jasmine blinked repeatedly, then deflated slightly.

What recourse did she have? She couldn’t compel him further than he’d already gone.

Yet by a minor wonder, Azriel yielded—likely sensing her burning desire to learn more of the youth named Leo Karumi.

He sighed louder now, resuming his serene voice.

"Well... after Lea’s death, Mother blamed me entirely. She persuaded me that my monstrous nature pushed her to suicide. That I should never have been near her. Or anybody."

Jasmine’s eyes narrowed, fury and ire clenching her chest. It enraged her that Azriel persisted in calling that woman Mother.

Azriel skimped on details now. As he’d warned, the later years proved too painful for elaboration. Nonetheless, Jasmine appreciated any revelation—even if it only fueled her wrath more. The idea that woman had twisted Azriel into shouldering Lea’s death revolted her.

"If I’m honest," Azriel went on, "Lea was likely the first since Nathan whose presence I truly savored in ages..."

A melancholic smile graced his features, stabbing Jasmine’s heart.

"The sole silver lining from her passing—if such a twisted notion fits—is that Lia and I connected at last during the funeral."

He chuckled lightly, almost incredulously.

Unintentionally, Jasmine smiled as well.

Then silence gripped Azriel once more.

Noting his struggle for the next words, Jasmine posed her own query.

"What about your father?"

Azriel’s expression shifted abruptly.

Revulsion warped it.

Moments later, he replied.

"Shortly post-funeral, I was out with Nathan the day before high school started. That’s when I spotted my father."

He now seemed on the verge of retching.

"He’d claimed a business trip kept him away. But there he was, kissing another woman."

Jasmine’s eyes bulged, yet Azriel pressed on.

"Sadly, he noticed me too. We clashed, and he insisted it was a slip-up. Promised no repeats. Blamed Mother’s absences, her stress on him, their constant rows. He begged forgiveness and warned that spilling it would shatter our family—I had to stay silent."

Azriel dropped his gaze. His fist balled anew.

Then came an even darker revelation.

"He recycled those excuses across the four other times I caught him cheating."

"What—"

Jasmine’s jaw dropped.

No surprise Azriel had glossed over him.

"W-why would you..." she stuttered. "Why keep that secret? It’s way too much."

Azriel averted his eyes, nearly shamefaced, but affirmed with a nod.

"I despise betrayal. But..." His tone softened further. "I simply couldn’t act. Nathan opposed it, urging me to end the charade... but stubbornness held me back."

His voice sank lower still.

"It escalated to a fierce quarrel."

Jasmine’s face hardened.

"And I snapped his arm."

"Azriel..."

He avoided her gaze. That recollection still brimmed with remorse.

Striving for cheer over sorrow, Jasmine infused warmth into her words.

"But you reconciled, didn’t you?"

As memory struck, Azriel grinned faintly.

"Yeah. That fool never held it against me. He pursued me relentlessly, arm in cast, while I dodged him."

Relief softened Jasmine’s smile.

Whatever else, Nathan had proven a steadfast ally. For that, gratitude filled her.

Though Azriel withheld his mother’s truth on his father’s infidelity, it forged his profound loathing for harems.

"Ahh, well... I scarcely spoke to Father anymore. Ties with Mother frayed further. Hiding that massive deceit nauseated me near her. Meanwhile, stagnation in all pursuits bred mounting frustration... She must have sensed our rift, so her outbursts and accusations intensified, I suppose."

Eyes shut, Azriel reclined as if easing tension.

Jasmine felt anything but ease.

It grew tougher to restrain her outburst at Azriel’s persistent euphemisms.

"I hit my limit eventually," he declared abruptly, claiming her focus while eyes closed and voice steady.

"I endured no longer. So I abandoned it all. Dropped piano, basketball, those premature medical tomes unfit for high school. Even picked up gambling’s vice. Fled Father’s company—or home itself. Ceased chasing perfection, grasping I’d never match Mother’s demands... or mine."

Jasmine observed his downcast eyes, grief clouding his visage, and softly touched his arm.

"Those demands were absurd from the start. Don’t torment yourself over them." She halted, then compelled the truth. "Frankly... that woman never deserved the title of mother."

A grave smile curved Azriel’s lips. He regarded her briefly, then dropped his gaze.

"Perhaps."

"I mean it," Jasmine insisted. "Stop calling her that."

Azriel seemed unmoved.

"I know," he uttered suddenly, grasping her intent. "I know I shouldn’t. You’re correct. Nathan was too... but I can’t shake it."

"Why?" Jasmine pressed, bafflement genuine.

"I don’t know..." Azriel confessed, his features bearing a bewildered lostness. "I just can’t. From childhood... she drilled those phrases relentlessly, till her final day."

Jasmine nibbled her lip.

By then, she knew those phrases well.

"I am a monster."

"No one would accept me."

"Only she could love someone like me."

That woeful smile resurfaced, wrenching Jasmine’s heart.

"I guess despite knowing better... I still believe her."

"..."

Azriel studied his hands, choking Jasmine’s response. She loathed his look.

"Back then, and now, she was right. More than ever, her words ring true."

"No!" Jasmine retorted sharply. "Everything she told you was false, always will be! I don’t view you as monstrous, and I love you. That disproves her utterly!"

Her outburst rang louder than planned, laced with urgency. Perhaps volume would pierce his thick head.

Yet Azriel appeared unconvinced.

That sight weighed her gut as he fixated on his hands.

"[Redo], [Redo], [Redo]..." he muttered. "I shared my unique skill. I’ve twisted people, slain them, torched dwellings, wrecked innumerable fates. Erasing timelines alters nothing of my deeds. Nor my capacity for such darkness."

Then Azriel fixed Jasmine with grave intensity, prompting her nervous gulp.

"The God of Time bestowed [Villain’s Script]."

"...Huh?"

"A divine skill. Among my most overpowered and perilous assets, untouched ever."

His tone hushed.

"For I know activating it ends my humanity. Unnoticed at first. Suddenly, I’d embody the very evil I fight."

A villain.

It begins as pretense.

Until reality claims it.

Eyes sharpening, his voice deepened—bitter, laden.

"[Redo] has warped this timeline excessively. I slew my parents and sister in cold blood. But what if I sparked all my woes? Or others’? What if [Redo] drove Lea’s end? Pushed Father to adultery? Molded Mother into her form? That..."

Azriel’s voice quavered increasingly.

"That my birth parents’ deaths fell to me too!?"

Jasmine recoiled, releasing his arm.

Self-loathing blazed in his eyes.

"I strove to delude myself," Azriel said, issuing a empty, mocking laugh.

"Twisted my thoughts pre-[Redo]. Before Azriel Crimson even. It succeeded. Might have endured longer sans this world."

His gaze shadowed.

"But I arrived. Each event here chipped the facade. Post-Pollux... nothing remains. He was right, Jasmine."

Azriel smiled coldly.

"I’m just a coward."

"What... what do you mean?" Jasmine questioned, voice quivering despite efforts.

Azriel met her eyes, chuckling softly in self-pity.

"Mother cherished me. Father beamed with pride. Little sister idolized me. A regular kid orphaned in a crash." He paused. "My grandest self-deception."

"..."

"I sold myself that tale. Buried truths, forged memories—to flee reality."

"..."

"Tell me, sister... can you truly love a wreck like me?"