Chapter 8: Seraphine’s Secret Kiss

Chapter 8: Chapter 8: Seraphine’s Secret Kiss

After Seraphine had called Michael out, it was as if the courtyard had suddenly gone still. Several teachers who had only ever seen the Dean from a distance suddenly appeared out of nowhere, drifting toward the black car in loose clusters, offering polite bows, careful compliments, and carefully worded questions about academy funding and future recommendations.

Seraphine answered most of them with short, civil replies, but the attention was enough. By the time she and Michael had moved out and he pulled his phone out, what filled the student forum were different rumors about him.

Sugar baby.

That’s why he always ranked first.

No wonder the principal covered for him.

Is he really a once-in-a-generation prodigy?

Michael read just enough to understand the shape of the new rumor, and honestly, he felt no real anger. Because of the sudden influx of people spreading the news and the fact that actual people had seen the Dean, the rumor about him awakening at the bottom had nearly vanished at this point.

He could already guess that every faction that had been sharpening knives—Fox family included—would now think twice before moving. A low-rank failure was easy prey. The possible favorite of one of the Seven Stars was not.

Michael clicked his phone off and placed it on his lap, finally taking in the interior of the car, which smelled faintly of roses.

Soft, old instrumental music played from the speakers at a volume just low enough to feel like background rather than a performance. Seraphine pulled away from the curb with smooth precision, her violet eyes fixed on the road ahead with an intensity that made her look less like a legendary powerhouse and more like a mother hunting for the last parking space at a crowded market.

Michael’s mouth twitched.

Seraphine caught the expression from the corner of her eye. "What’s so funny?"

The answer left him before his brain finished checking it.

"I didn’t know even hundred-year-old demons could look that focused while driving."

A sudden, tense silence fell over them. Almost at the same time, they both blinked.

Oh shit. Phrasing. Phrasing!

Michael’s smile turned awkward and too wide as he quickly lifted both hands in a defensive wave.

"I’m joking. It’s a trend right now—young people say stuff like that. Can you imagine the things these kids come up with?"

Seraphine’s shoulders eased a fraction. "Is that so?"

Michael allowed himself a quiet breath of relief. Then the air in the car grew heavy.

Her aura settled over him like a weighted blanket made of iron, pressing against his lungs and the back of his neck. It lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough to make his fingers tighten against his thighs.

"Do you think I’m a fool?" she asked, her voice mild.

The pressure vanished as suddenly as it had come. Seraphine exhaled through her nose and adjusted her grip on the wheel.

"Sorry... I overreacted a bit." She let out another sigh. "It’s just that I’m on edge since we’re heading back to the Sovereign Realm after this."

Michael took several breaths before raising his gaze to her. "The Sovereign Realm?"

She glanced at him, then returned her attention to the road, sliding the car past a slower vehicle with practiced ease.

"Oh, right. You only just awakened, so you wouldn’t know this." She spoke while watching the traffic. "But once an Awakened reaches Rank 3, the Heavens begin tightening their grip on them. We call it the Heavenly Shackles. Power becomes restricted—how long you can use it in a day, how often you can leave your personal domain, random lightning, pressure that builds if you stay among ordinary people too long. Because of this, living inside the regular cities becomes... impractical. So Rank 3 and above reside in the Sovereign Realm."

Michael nodded slowly. The description lined up almost perfectly with the old cultivation novels he used to binge on Earth—Heavenly Tribulations, realm barriers, the price of lingering too long among mortals.

Seraphine’s mouth curved slightly. "Soon enough, you’ll see what it’s like up there yourself."

Michael leaned back against the seat and let his eyes half-close. He wasn’t sure if Seraphine was being sarcastic or genuine there, but honestly, he wanted to see it too. Not merely the peak of the First Heaven, but the view from the highest point of all three. The thought settled warmly in his chest as the motion of the car and the soft music made his eyes suddenly feel heavy.

Without meaning to, he closed his eyes and drifted off into a deep sleep.

Seraphine drove in silence for a while, occasionally glancing at the young man beside her. In sleep, his features softened. The sharp confidence he wore while awake loosened into something quieter, almost boyish.

After a short while, she finally pulled into the driveway of a large skyscraper. Once she had parked fully, she clicked open her seatbelt and turned toward the sleeping Michael. Her hand rose to wake him, but instead of continuing with the action, she leaned forward, ash-blonde strands slipping forward as she reached out and brushed a few dark-white locks away from his forehead.

"What a handsome young man," she murmured under her breath. "Even in my day, I never saw a face quite like this."

Her fingers lingered a moment longer than necessary, a small smile touching her lips.

"How much must you trust this old witch to fall asleep so easily in her presence..."

The smile faded into something more complicated. Almost without deciding to, she let her fingertips rest against the soft line of his mouth, feeling the warmth there. Heat rose in her cheeks as she leaned closer, her hair falling forward like a curtain, and pressed a brief, careful kiss to his lips.

The contact lasted barely a second before Seraphine jerked back as though the steering wheel had shocked her. Both hands flew to her face, a deep flush spreading across her cheeks and down her neck.

’What—What did I just do?’

Not once had she kissed anyone since her husband died. Not once in the long decades that followed. She had made a quiet promise to remain faithful even after death, and she had kept it without struggle.

Yet here she was, stealing a kiss from a boy young enough to be her grandchild.

Something tight and unfamiliar twisted under her ribs at the thought of mornings and nights spent seeing that face across a table. She forced the feeling down and smoothed her expression into careful distance before reaching over to tap his shoulder.

Michael stirred, blinking blearily. The car had stopped. Outside the window rose the familiar glass-and-steel face of his family’s apartment complex.

He stretched slightly, yawning a little. "Sorry, I slept without knowing."

Seraphine shook her head without meeting his eyes, which Michael found strangely odd.

He paused for half a second, decided it was none of his business at the moment, and stepped out of the car.

"I’ll be quick," he said, glancing down through the windows. "And... thanks a lot for waiting."

Seraphine kept her voice even, waving him away. "Don’t worry. Take your time."

Michael didn’t share any other pleasantries with her and headed inside the building.

The elevator carried him to the thirty-seventh floor with its usual soft hum. When the doors opened, he walked the short length of the hallway to the center apartment, stopped in front of the familiar door, and pressed the bell.

Footsteps approached quickly.

Then—bang!

The door swung open with brutal force to reveal a girl in loose home clothes, her white hair still slightly messy from whatever she had been doing.

The moment she saw him, her blue eyes lit up.

"Big bro!" she exclaimed, launching herself forward without hesitation.

Elfi hit his chest with enough force to make him take a half-step back. Her arms locked around his neck, and her legs wrapped around his waist, her feet dangling well clear of the floor.

Michael’s arms stayed at his sides as he stared past her shoulder at the empty living room with a completely flat expression.

"Elfi," he said, "aren’t you a little old for this?"

She pulled her head back just enough to look him in the eyes, still clinging like a koala, and beamed.

"Hehehe, my dear brother, what do you mean by that? This sister is just sixteen, so how can she be old!"

He sighed, then yelled out at the top of his lungs.

"Mom! Remember the vase from last—"

Elfriede slapped a hand over his mouth before he could finish.

"You bastard, how dare you bring that up?!" she hissed under her breath.

Before Michael could reply, the soft voice of a woman drifted into his ears.

"Elfi, who’s at the door?"

Elfriede tilted her head back and answered.

"Bro’s back!"