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It's wrong, he knows, but he can't stop himself from watching you just behind the trees. You're by yourself, practicing your swordsmanship with the saber that defined your character. Each step you make, each leap you perform — it all left him breathless as he clasps his hands on his mouth to prevent the gasp that threatens to spill out.
It's as if you're performing a dance with how relaxed and flourished your moves are. He's so enamored by it.
But at the same time, it makes him seethe. It makes him frown.
"Why... why can't I be like (Name)...?" Epel tussles his lavender-colored hair as he sits and leans against the tree's bark. Whatever styling Vil did with his hair had became in vain as strands stuck out, showing his frustrations. He clenched his teeth at the thought of the Pomefiore dorm leader, "That bastard... makin' me do whatever he wants even if I don't like it..."
Just earlier, Vil restricted Epel from going outside the dorm after an injury he had gotten from his club. In an outsider's perspective, it would have looked like Vil cared for him, but in reality, that man wanted an excuse so he could style and turn him into what he sees fit. It's making the first-year's blood boil. That injury wasn't even bad in the first place. It was just a minor sprain!
Epel could rant and complain all he wants behind Vil's back, but it just can't change anything. The role as a 'cute' and 'petite' boy is thrusted upon him by fate. That damned mirror during the ceremony was the source of it all. If only he was sorted to the Savanaclaw dorm or at least any dorm that is not Pomefiore...
The light at the end of the tunnel, however, is you. You're a Pomefiore dorm member much like him, but you aren't bounded or affected by Vil's control. Sure, the dorm head took an interest on you, but overall, you don't fit whatever ideals he has running around in his mind. You're not remarkably 'cute' or 'petite' to the point you can rival Neige. You're not outstandingly beautiful where you're deemed as a threat in Vil's eyes. Rather, you're just you.
What's striking about you is your affinity with blades. Having come from a noble house, you don't hesitate to show your loyalty towards it by being one of its guards. A prized saber is always sheathed in its scabbard by your hip, your hand resting on its hilt, ready to immediately use it. Despite the forbiddance of weapons inside the campus, you don't seem to care in the slightest.
And Epel admires you so much for it. You're blunt and headstrong, ready to defend yourself and your house's honor without the slightest hesitation. You are what he wants to become. He wants no fear that looms behind him as he faces those in authority. He wants to not be looked down upon.
Students belittle him all because of his physical features. He's feminine-looking, much to his dismay and annoyance. It makes him seem inferior and frail, and unfortunately, you see him as that too. Though not exactly explicit, there's no mistaking the glint of reluctance in your eyes when you talk to him. In partnered works or assignments, you always handle the bigger tasks, always giving him the more mundane or plain tasks.
It's like you don't trust him, but you try to for the sake of respect.
The only ones who showed respect to him are his clubmates, but even then, he had to work his way up there because he looks so weak! They never take in account of the saying 'never judge a book by its cover'!
"Gahh!! Why does everyone think I'm so weak?? Why am I stuck in this stupid dorm—"
"Who goes there?"
Epel could barely react in time seeing your heel plant in front of him and the tip of your blade near his face. He looks up to see your figure tower over him. What intimidation your face held melted into recognition as you lower your saber.
"Sir Felmier?" you watch the lavender-haired male stand up from the ground, "Why are you hiding behind a tree, and why were you shouting all of a sudden?" curiously, you observe his face go red at your question.
"I—Uh... th-that's not important!" Epel sputtered out and quickly saves himself, "Actually, I-I kinda liked seein' you practice with your saber 'c-cause it's cool!" he admits as he looks down on his feet, quite ashamed.
Surprised, you widen your eyes as your lips curl up in a small smile, "Really? Thank you, then. It took years for me to cultivate my techniques and such," you bow down politely in gratitude.
The first-year blinks rapidly. Sure you do polite displays everytime, but he just can't seem to be used to it, "E-Eh, no need for that kinda stuff! Uh, I was wonderin' if you could..." he pauses as his face turns even more red, "T-Teach me how you do it?"
"Teach you? I'm afraid I can't do so," frowning, you shake your head 'no'.
Whatever giddy feeling he felt had quickly disappeared, replacing it with what's essentially insecurity.
"B-But..." Epel grits his teeth, cursing at how he stutters, "Is it 'cause I'm weak to you?! Am I not manly enough to do shit like that?!" his expression morphed into pure anger, his fists clenching. Why is he pitted against this miserable world? Why does the person he admires the most dislike him? He didn't deserve this!
As if you were oblivious to his outburst, you shake your head once more, "Oh no, it's not that. You see, I have doubts on my own way of teaching. Quite frankly, I've been called a horrible teacher..." you winced at that old memory where your senior had told you to help train the juniors who were below you. Needless to say, they learned nothing from you as your teaching techniques were unorthodox compared to your own swordsmanship.
Just like that, Epel's brain and thinking process had combust, "Oh... um..." the previous anger he held has been replaced with confused guilt this time as he twiddled with his fingers.
Ah, he's embarrassed again.
Face turning red, Epel squeaks, "I-I have to get back to Vil! Um, see you later, I think..." he quickly runs off in short strides, the sharp pain on his ankle coming back again causing him to hiss in pain. Still, he continued on without turning back to look at you.
/ /
He reached the Pomefiore dorm castle relatively quick as the forest behind him is quite small. Without wasting any time to rest, Epel pushed himself to enter the common room where, much to his relief, Vil isn't present. Unfortunately, Rook is lounging on the couch, reading a book and has just noticed his presence. Rook is much more milder than the dorm leader, but even he can be a bit... weird.
Rook puts aside his book and smiles, "Très bien! You managed to come back in time before Vil notices!" he praised as if whatever the first-year had accomplished is as big as winning an award. He narrows his eyes and slyly smiles at how the lavender-haired male subtly leaned on one side, intentionally putting less pressure on to the other leg, "My, but there's no mistaking he would notice your injury worsening! Oui!"
"Could you give me a little bit of help then?" Epel grits his teeth in both pain and annoyance. Ugh, if only Rook could just shut up. At the very least, he doesn't rat him out to Vil despite him being his technical 'right-hand man'.
Rook chuckles affably, "Bien sûr, Epel! Sit on the couch for the mean time while I fetch a cold compress and a new cast!" he stands up from the plush velvet and quickly walks away to another area in the dorm.
Epel awkwardly walks towards the couch and sits on it, sighing as he held his casted foot and crossed it on his lap, "Ugh, stupid uniform heels. It made everything harder than it should be," he muttered out in distaste and recalls how, despite the relatively short distance to come back to the dorm, the heel his good foot had worn made him a bit off-balance.
Now he's regretting not wearing the sports shoes he has in his room first thing in the morning. All he can hear now is Vil's disappointment, berating him for the fact that his heels aren't even that tall to begin with, and yet, he's still stumbling. Why wasn't he even given crutches in the first place? Did Vil just think there's no need for him to leave his room?
Sighing again, Epel adjusts himself so he can lie down on the couch completely, his hands placed on his chest. Whatever he's doing right now is completely 'not elegant', but he's just tired now. At least the dorm leader has yet to appear and give him a harsh lecture.
Rook comes back with the items he mentioned earlier in his hands. He makes his presence known to the lavender-haired male before replacing the cast. Afterwards, the blond gave Epel the cold compress, "I suggest for you to to back to your room. Who knows what beautiful reaction Roi du Poison will make when he sees you here!" he exclaimed the last part dramatically. His suggestion, though, is genuine.
Grumbling exhaustedly, Epel complied and sits up to excuse himself from the common room. He's just so drained now all because of the embarrassment that coursed through his veins earlier.
All he wants is sleep.
/ /
Epel could hear two voices talking outside his room. Bleary-eyed and still sleepy, he strained himself to hear what's going on by begrudgingly walking up to his door and leaning his head on the wooden surface. As if automatic, his eyes widen at the familiar voices from the other side. He clenched his fists in frustration at Vil's authoritative tone as he sounded like he is scolding the other person.
And that other person is you, he thinks, because your voice sounds blunt and monotone. You're probably disagreeing something with Vil right now. Surprisingly, despite how Vil's tone gets harsher at every word you bite back with, you still find yourself keeping a leveled tone. Even with how muffled everything sounded, he can discern the tones.
...There is a reason why you two are outside his room, right? He decides to concentrate more to hear the conversation clearer.
"Sir Schoenheit, I insist. I shall take care of Sir Felmier," you don't even blink under Vil's searing gaze. Rather, you simply stare on, unbothered by it in the slightest. He can sneer and criticize you all he wants, but you're never backing down from your decision.
"And what makes you think I shall allow that?" Vil asks, distaste dripping in every word. He crosses his arms, irked at how unaffected you seem.
"I must confess, but you're making this sound like I am asking approval from you to marry your son, Sir Schoenheit," you said it so seriously that even humor couldn't attach itself into your tone. You're making it sound like what you said is just a simple, yet random statement and one that is not made to be a joke. Actually — who can even tell whether or not you meant that as a joke?
Vil scoffs, flustered and annoyed at the same time, "Good grief... You're mysterious and a nuisance at the same time, you do know that?" he pointedly commented out, finally letting go of his venomous behavior, "But fine. You truly are stubborn, and there's no getting past you. Just remember to make him follow the beauty regimen. He knows what it is."
You nod, grateful for his approval, "Thank—"
"But before that," he cuts you off as his palm connects with your knuckle before you could knock on the door, "I must ask, why exactly that Baby Potato?" he leans close to you to the point you can see every inch of his face. You can smell a bit of his beauty products' scents, dizzying you. It's so alluring and so intoxicating.
"To explain, I felt bad turning down Sir Felmier when he requested me to teach him how to wield a blade. This is my way to make it up to him," you explain as you withdraw your hand from his.
The blond furrowed his eyebrows as he straightens his posture, "Hmph. He still isn't satisfied with joining the Magift Club? That boy..." he shakes his head in disappointment, "Regardless of the reason, I'm grateful you turned him down. He has no need to partake in another energy-extensive activity when his club is already enough."
Without another word, the dorm head swiftly turns his heels and walks away, still irritated over something, you think.
He heard everything. He wished he didn't. Epel went back to his bed and stuffed his face into his pillow, shouting profanities. What makes Vil think he can control his life? What makes that dorm leader think he can force him into being something he doesn't want to be? And of all things Vil is worried about, it's about that damned beauty regimen? The nerve is so aggravating that his blood is boiling even more now.
Epel's breathing starts to become erratic as he tried to contain his anger. Unfortunately, tears are starting to prick his eyes as he hid his face further in his pillow, his emotions overflowing.
Then there's you. He can't tell whether or not he's angry at you. The sentiment of you taking care of him is nice, but on the other hand, do you think of him as weak? Do you think of him as incapable? As much as his rational side tells him that you're just being thoughtful, he can't control his other thoughts telling him that you just want to rub it in his face that he's inferior to you.
That 'you're a horrible teacher' reason is purely an excuse in Epel's eyes. No, you just find him all weak and want to assure him that's not the reason so to be all nice. You just don't trust him to wield a blade, don't you?
Before his dark thoughts could expand further, he hears a knock on his door. Realizing who it might be, he quickly lies down properly and vigorously rubs his eyes to get rid of his tears. Weakly, he responds, "Come in...!"
Expectedly, you enter the room, unaware of what had transpired with him. After a brief scan of your surroundings, you approach his bed, "I apologize for my sudden appearance here, but rest assured, I will be taking care of you," as you said that, another Pomefiore student comes in with a utility cart. He bows down and leaves with a dismissive flick of your hand.
"(N-Name)?!" Epel stuttered out when you suddenly hovered above him and propped up a wooden bed tray just above his lap. Afterwards, you place a silver platter on the bed tray filled with delicious-looking food. His mouth waters at the sight.
"I heard from Sir Hunt you love barbeque and anything grilled," you mention as you finished plating, "That is why I thought of it as appropriate to grill vegetables and pork for you to enjoy."
"W-Wait!" the first-year sputtered out, "Wouldn't this fit more as lunch?" he asks as much as his stomach is trying to persuade him to eat already.
"Oh? Sir Zigvolt once told me the reason he managed to grow so tall is because he partakes in hearty everyday meals. A packed breakfast can help you grow, no?" you shrugged as you finish pouring water into a glass cup. You place it on the bed tray next to the plate.
"Ah yes — I almost forgot. Bon Appétit, Sir Felmier," a flourished bow soon followed after from you, "I shall stand by your door and wait for you to finish. Afterwards, I will change your cast," your mind went back to Vil's angry face, "And I suppose with your beauty regimen too."
True to your words, you station yourself near his door, akin to what a royal guard would do. You leaned against the wall and crossed your arms, closing your eyes as well.
'(Name) is so cool...' Epel forced himself to stare at his food instead of you. Embarrassed all of a sudden, heat quickly rises up his cheeks, 'Gah—! This is definitely bad though. Th-They're pampering me!!' he subtly takes a glance at you to see that you're still resting... in a way.
A conflicted look crossed the first-year's face as he stares at his food head-on. There's some guilt in his head now that just plainly crushes whatever dark thoughts he had of you. You... you're just looking out for him in the end.
However, it's hard to fully believe that now that he's heard your reasoning earlier. It irked him you're here just by obligation and not because of any emotional reason.
But the effort you do — the breakfast is a small example of it...! That is why he's so conflicted if he should be grateful or continue harboring grudge to you.
'Ugh...' he just doesn't know now...
/ /
Some time later, you cleared the empty platter and picked up the bed tray, placing them in the utility cart and wheeling it aside. Another Pomefiore student entered once more to retrieve the cart and had brought you a big medical kit and another bigger metal case. You dismissed the nameless student once again before approaching Epel.
"Sir Felmier, it is time for me to change your cast. Please don't squirm or flinch too much," you announced as you take off his covers. Epel stares at you quietly as you rummage through the medical kit to reveal... a saw?! It looks like a medical saw for all he knows, but still! It's a saw!
When Rook had changed his cast, he just dipped it in warm water that has magic sprinkled into it to dissolve the plaster material. But this method that you are about to do is making him so nervous as he brings his pillow to his chest and hugs it.
Seeing his worries, you softly shake your head, "Do not worry. The saw won't penetrate your skin, I assure you. I'll make sure of it," you pat his hair in hopes that it will soothe him.
Unfortunately, that only made his heart rate spike up as his cheeks went red. His hands automatically shot up above his head and gripped on your wrist. He doesn't know if he'll even try to push your hand away or make it stay in place. He... doesn't know...
Your touch feels so nice though. It's making him feel weird. Too weird.
"Is something wrong?" quietly, you watch Epel close his eyes and grit his teeth, frustrated. His grip on your wrist is firm, but you feel as if you can break from it relatively easy.
"A-Ah!" Epel's eyes suddenly snapped open, and he immediately lets go of his hands and puts them on his lap. He bows down, ashamed, as his face grew hotter, "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to do that. I-It's just—"
"Don't be ashamed, Sir Felmier. Chin up and you'll feel just fine," you're oblivious to his true feelings, assuming that it's something else. Unexpectedly to him, a small encouraging smile had plaster on your face as you smoothen his hair, "You will be okay, so don't you worry," you assured him one last time before retracing your hand and going back to the medical saw.
Stunned to silence, Epel could only close his mouth and open it repetitively while you make quick work of cutting his cast off. He didn't even react during the whole process.
But he did, however, react badly at how your hand brushes against his ankle — not out of pain though. He's flustered, again. He shudders at the minor contact as you softly pat his ankle and wrapped it in plaster. Finally, you finished the cast.
"There, all done," you discard the previous cast into a trash bin in the room and pack up the medical materials, "How painful is your injury, if I may ask?" you ask as you went to take a look inside the other case brought to you to find a long note that has a list of instructions.
Snapping out of his thoughts, Epel hurriedly answers, "It wasn't even that painful to begin with because it was a minor sprain! But it worsened now, I guess," he admits, reluctant, "But really, it wasn't even that bad at first, and I tried to reassure Vil...! I just wanted to prove I'm fine and can still do things!" he purses his lips now, fearing that he might do another outburst.
You look up from the note in your hand and give him a curious look, "For me, personally, an injury doesn't show that you are weak or the like," when the lavender-haired male gives you a confused look back, you expounded your explanation, "What I meant by it is that there is no harm on relying on another person since they're there to help you become strong again. Sir Schoenheit, for instance, was probably looking out for you and is worried about you. Though he may be rough around the edges with it, I can tell he is really concerned for your health and safety."
You falter when you realized your explanation is a bit lengthy, "Ah... I apologize for boring you with whatever I said. Moving on from that, I shall now help you with your beauty regimen as instructed by Sir Schoenheit... Oh my, I'm afraid I'm not exactly sure how these tools work?" ignoring the first-year student, you went back to intently reading the note once more, hoping that there's an explanation you missed.
You... you just keep surprising Epel, don't you? He could barely process more of your words without looking at you, wide-eyed as his thoughts clash with one another, screaming that his grudge towards you feels misjudged now. You're just more than what he thought of you as originally.
'Ugh— My heart—!' he winced slightly as he puts a hand on his chest and feels the erratic pulse of his heart, much to his dismay. He looks at you as you seem to be busy reading that damned note, 'It hurts...'
/ /
It's getting worse, he thinks. Epel could barely breathe as his head is forced to lean against your stomach while you brush his hair. Looking in the bathroom mirror, he could see how focused you are with the task at hand, ignoring him altogether. As much as he wants to ignore you back as well, you make it harder when you lean forward to fix his bangs.
He admits he's in quiet bliss, though.
"I suppose this is what he wants?" you murmured to yourself, doing the final touches of his lavender hair by tying it back. You huff in slight irritation as you put away the brush and went to open the metal case, surprising Epel in the process as he almost fell from the stool for leaning back too far, "...But I do have to admit, your hair is very soft," you don't notice how he visibly startles at your words since you're busy reading the different face care products.
The first-year student doesn't say anything in response, only slightly nodding despite the fact you can't even see it.
He's in pain.
You come back with a face cleanser in hand. You put it on the bathroom countertop near the sink, "Let me wash my hands first," as you said that, you turn on the faucet and thoroughly washed your hands. You then turn to the male, "It says in the note that I should wet your face first. Don't mind me," grabbing a small face towel, you run it under the sink and wring it with your hands.
Afterwards, you turn to the male and without much hesitation, you dab the wet towel on his face, unaware of the close proximity between the two of you. With that done, you get a small amount of the face cleanser and rub it between your hands for it to spread. You get behind Epel and begin to massage his face with the cleanser.
"Hm, your cheeks are very soft..." humming quietly, you pat his cheeks to prove your point, "Now I see why Sir Schoenheit really wanted for you to take care of your face. It's so nice..."
Ignoring the butterflies in his stomach, Epel mustered out a soft 'thanks'. He muses to himself that your hands feel both callused and soft — a mix. It's weird, but it really feels like that. Even more, he feels as if he's about to fall asleep with how gentle you are with his face.
He's kind of curious of your odd fondness for 'soft' things since you've complimented his hair and face now. He feels like he's overthinking about that out-of-character quirk of yours, but he wants to know why.
"Hey, (Name)...? Why is it that you like soft things?" the lavender-haired male asks, causing you to pause your actions to look at him in the mirror.
Pondering for a bit, you hum, "Good question, I suppose. To answer, I simply find soft things nice. They're comforting in a way," even if you sounded vague, somehow, your explanation is enough to him.
Epel just can't ignore how you're eyeing his hair, however. He can't ignore how you quickly snap your attention away from his lavender strands, your motions wavering for a bit. Do you actually... want to touch his hair?
"H-Hey, if you wanna pat my hair, I could let you," oh for the love of the Fairest Queen, this is the weirdest thing he's ever granted permission to. Ah, he guesses the 'manly' persona he tries to build is falling apart now...
As much as he wanted to know himself, he doesn't. He doesn't know why he's doing this for you.
Blinking in surprise as you rinse his face with water, you quietly gasp, "T-Truly? Th-That's nice of you, Sir Felmier...!" you clear your throat awkwardly while you use a dry towel to dry his face, "I apologize. Of course, thank you."
It's his turn to be surprised. He has never seen you flustered. Ever. It's cute, actually.
Thinking he has the upperhand now, he giggles, "Don't hold back now! Ahahaha!" he laughs in his hand, happy to see that new revelation about you... Happy to see you falter.
"A-Ah?" you tilt your head, not understanding of what's going on. But, you do get it must be about you. It embarrasses you that you didn't fully catch on though, "Y-Yes, I suppose? I'll do as you ask?"
'Bless your soul, (Name). You're adorable when you're not even trying to be!' Epel feels giddy again as he went to lean against your stomach like earlier. This time, he's purposefully getting a reaction out of you, all the while he's ignoring how his heart is beating fast.
He feels your fingers run through his hair like a comb. He closes his eyes and lets out a quiet sigh. He's in bliss, and this time, he accepts it now. Though he can't sort his grudges, conflicts, and whatnot, he's fine with this. This feels nice. Really nice.
Maybe you are right... Being pampered isn't all that bad after all...
/ /
Several weeks passed and his ankle has healed now. Epel relishes the feeling of freedom while Rook removes his cast, teasingly musing how excited the first-year is. The vice dorm leader dramatically tears up a bit seeing how Epel is now free from the 'gilded cage' he was trapped in.
"Ah! So beautiful! Just like a finch stretching its wings for the first time in forever!" Rook clasps his hand and smiles, as if he were a proud parent. He puts away the soggy cast and cleans the first-year's ankle with a towel. After that, he helps him wear the Pomefiore dorm uniform heels.
"Thank you, Rook!" Epel smiles as he swung his legs happily just like a child. His ankle doesn't hurt anymore!
But... he feels empty, truthfully. Epel hasn't seen you on the final days of his 'confinement'. Rather, Rook was the one who took care of him during those days.
What mild surprise he felt boiled down into irritation — irritation towards you. What the hell is wrong with you for leaving him without any notice? He had asked Rook what happened with you, but the only response he got is that you have a fencing tournament. It's weird because you would have told him that prior, right? Rook did look like he didn't want to talk much about it, however.
Vil, on the other hand, is quiet too. He barely makes any mention of you, and if he did, he always goes with the 'tournament' excuse. He gets defensively strict when prodded further.
Epel feels so confused and so lost. Is he out-of-the-loop? He did, however, remember that one memory days ago when Vil sounded guilty. Genuinely guilty. A simple walk along the Pomefiore hallway had turned into him eavesdropping at the door of the ballroom where Vil and Rook were at.
"...I tried to stop them because those students aren't worth it, but I couldn't in the end," Vil sucked in a breath, his heart heavy, "Now they're gone, off with that crowd. How careless of me..."
"Non, the weight of fault is not for you to carry entirely, Vil... I saw them at the Mirror Chamber when I was getting back from the shop. I could have stopped them as well," Rook somberly smiles as he looks out the window, "...But do you think they're happier now?"
The dorm head sighs, conflicted, "Truthfully, I have no idea, Rook. I wish I knew as all students of Pomefiore are under my watch," his voice drops in a whisper, "...I have failed as dorm leader. That cannot be disputed..."
And that's what Epel remembered. It's so vague, but he knew they were talking about you and that something happened to you. He wanted to do something, but what? It seems like the dorm leader and vice dorm leader don't even entrust information like that to him, so all he could do is rely on that vague bit of the conversation.
He has to do his own digging and prying.
With newly-found determination, Epel nods to himself and stands up from the couch. He turns to face Rook who's surprised at his sudden action, "I'm gonna find (Name). Stop me all you want, but I'll find them," he broke off into a short sprint, leaving the dorm altogether.
Baffled, Rook hopelessly sighs, "Good for our little Epel. At least he has found his objet d'affection. I am truly sorry, Vil," he weakly chuckled to himself, defeated.
/ /
Reaching the Mirror Chamber, Epel spots a familiar first-year much like him, Sebek Zigvolt, carry a sheathed sword in his arms. The green-haired male doesn't seem to notice him as he heads to the Diasomnia's mirror. Epel wants to approach him and ask of your whereabouts, but he can't help but stop, finally taking a closer look at the sword in question.
The shape of the hilt is familiar. Its elegantly-curved knuckle bow is a dead giveaway alongside the familiarly-bejeweled scabbard. It's a saber, not something he would expect Sebek to be carrying. He thought of him to carry something like a sword, not your saber.
Why does he have it anyway?
When the Diasomnia first-year entered the mirror, Epel huffs and enters the mirror himself as well. He needs to know what's going on. Now inside, a gloomy dark sky is shown above him, forcing him to look ahead to drown the incoming dread in his stomach. Sebek is already ahead as he is at the bridge.
A sea of pitch black thorns is what he sees at his sides. It's so creepy here and gives a certain aura... No wonder Diasomnia is the most respected, yet feared dorm in the school. Passing the arch with the Diasomnia emblem, Epel gazed at the equally gloomy castle. He mused to himself that the Pomefiore dorm's castle is much more livelier than this...
Despite that, he supposes he can find the elegance of the castle here. It's haunting and eerie, befitting for the Great Seven they honor and adore. Entering the castle quietly, he hides behind a wall as Sebek enters the common room. Surprisingly, there's virtually no other students present here. There, the lavender-haired male peeks just at the entrance to see what the other first-year is going to do.
His eyes widened when he sees your figure leaning against the wall next to the fireplace, however. What... what are you doing here? No, no... He can't be mistaken—! The dorm uniform you're wearing is very much different from the Pomefiore one—! Why... why are you wearing that?
"Master (Name), I have come to return you your precious blade!!" Sebek's voice boomed out as he shows you the pristine saber in his hand and gives it to you, "Please tell me how good I took care of it!"
"Hm..." as if you're scrutinizing him, you went to unsheathe the saber to find it still pristine as ever. It's even more polished now that you think of it, "It's in good condition — better, even. Thank you, Sir Zigvolt, for your hard work and effort," sheathing it back, you bow down to the green-haired male to emphasize your gratitude.
Sebek smiles, self-satisfied, "Of course! I give my all to everything, especially to Master Malleus!" his smile wiped off when he realized something, "Oh yes — speaking of the Master, I shall be checking up on him. I must go now, Master (Name)!" he marches out of the common room and into the hallway.
Epel thought he would have been caught by Sebek since he was literally right next to him as he walked out of the room. But fortunately, the green-haired male's elation blinded him to even notice much of his surroundings as he walked past. How utterly convenient.
Now you're all by yourself in the common room. He can finally do something.
Without wasting any time, Epel enters the room and approaches your side with a smile. He knows everything is off, but he doesn't want to show how he truly feels about it just yet, "(Name)...! What happened to you?" he asks as he eyes your new dorm uniform, acting all surprised, "And why're you dressing up as a Diasomnia dorm student?"
Surprised, you widened your eyes, "Sir Felmier...? Why are you—"
The lavender-haired male cheers as he goes in to hug your waist, "Haah, you remember me! I'm so, so happy," he sighs happily, his cheek pressed against your stomach. However, almost immediately, he frowns, "But yeah, why the hell are you wearing the Diasomnia uniform?" his tone had gone cold.
"...Sir Schoenheit didn't tell you anything?" puzzled, you asked as you slowly reciprocated the hug, much to the male's surprise.
He almost melted from your touch. Just almost.
Epel grit his teeth and broke off the hug immediately. He glared at you head-on, "No, of course not! Actually — why did you not tell me any of this?! You left me without any notice!" he shouted out in frustration, his chest pumping hard from the sudden surge of adrenaline.
Caught off-guard by his outburst, you try to tread his emotions carefully, "I apologize for the lack of communication. You see, I didn't get the chance to tell you because I was caught up with the dorm members here," you pause for a bit, noting how he looks as if he's hearing you out. He seems unbelieving though, "...There are some dorm members here who are affiliated with the house I serve. When they heard of me and the fact I am from the Pomefiore dorm, they took the opportunity to sort me to here."
Seemingly calmed down, Epel slowly nods. He mockingly thinks for a moment before dropping his verdict, "That doesn't excuse you of anything," the tranquility he feigned quickly died down as he clenched his fists, "Seriously... What the hell is wrong with you?! You left me all for some stupid reason, and in the end, you never cared at all," he catches his breath before continuing, "Good for you for enjoying shit here, but do you know how much it hurts, huh? Do you know how much it hurts me?"
You stare at him, wide-eyed, as you muster a response, "I...I am not aware... I-I apologize—"
Epel furiously shakes his head, silencing you, "Just shut up already! As if that even matters when you're not going to come back to the Pomefiore dorm anyway..." he mutters bitterly as he closes his eyes.
He knows deep down you see him as an acquaintance. It took him so long to realize it. You never saw him as a friend or greater than that — just a minor acquaintance, much like everyone else at the Pomefiore dorm. It was foolish for him to think you would care enough to tell him about where you'll go and such.
But, despite all of those errors, he can't just let you go. He's so deep under with his feelings for you. He admired you, he hated you, and then he fell for you. He had a feeling he wouldn't be all the same without you.
And he'll seize this opportunity now to take what will be his, whether you like it or not.
Truly calmed down now, Epel opens his eyes again to meet yours. You say nothing. Neither does he. After a short moment, the lavender-haired male finally breaks the silence and says something with a soft voice, "Close your eyes, hold your breath... Sleep Kiss," once the chant ended, without ample time to react, your consciousness dimmed down quickly as a glass coffin forms around you and seals you.
He smiles as he touches the cool surface of the coffin, satisfied. He doesn't have full control or full knowledge of his Unique Magic which meant he was lucky it quickly worked on you.
Lucky that he can have you now.
The first-year childishly giggled as he gazed at your sleeping face, "Hehehe~ I hope you don't mind this, (Name)!" the glass coffin floats behind him as he leaves the Diasomnia dorm's common room, not caring if he'll get caught.
Now at the Mirror Chamber, Epel pauses, "After all..." he darkly glances at your figure in the coffin, an unabashed smile on his lips, "It's for the best, you know? All you need to do is rely on me, just like what you told me! I don't wanna hold back on how I feel about you anymore, really..."