The butler, Casper Foss, was well past sixty, older than most people would expect a servant to be, but his age brought wisdom, patience, and an unyielding devotion to his responsibilities. Despite his advanced years, his mind remained sharp, his thoughts precise, a striking contrast to his employer, James Howlett, who had become increasingly reckless in his behavior as the years passed.
"Ahem, Master," Casper began, clearing his throat, his voice soft but firm. He adjusted the monocle passed down to him from his father, Wayne Foss, a symbol of the legacy he carried. Standing in the doorway of the study, his posture impeccable, he observed James as he hunched over a desk, lost in his writing. "I must remind you, once again, about Asazo's behavior. Master Asazo—he's gone to the city center again, for the third time this month. And this time, he didn't even try to hide it. Now, the whole town is buzzing with rumors. People are saying something like a demon has come into the world."
James, with a pen in hand, didn't immediately respond. His concentration was deep, his focus singular as he carefully placed the last words on the page. A few more strokes and the task would be complete. The year was 1910, and James Howlett, the patriarch of the Howlett family, was approaching his eighty-first birthday. Yet, despite his advanced age, he hadn't made a public appearance in years, and his health had been declining for quite some time.
From the outside, people speculated that James was nearing his final days, quietly waiting in the family manor for death to come. But in reality, his son, Bruce Howlett, had been the one seen by the world. He was young, healthy, and bore a striking resemblance to his father, enough so that no one would question their familial ties. In fact, there were arrangements in place, including legal documents, ensuring that Bruce could step into his father's shoes without causing suspicion.
James paused, lifting his eyes from his work and meeting the butler's gaze. "Casper, it's Young Master, remember? And after a while, I'll be Bruce Howlett to the rest of the world. Don't make that mistake. It's important."
Casper sighed but said nothing. He'd long since accepted the peculiarities of James's behavior, his resistance to growing old, and his need to keep up appearances for reasons only James could understand. He folded his hands and cleared his throat again, his voice tinged with frustration. "Master, please. You must do something about Asazo. He's not a child anymore. He doesn't need to be coddled."
James lifted his hand, gesturing for the butler to wait. "Azazo," he muttered under his breath, the name of the young man he had raised from a boy. "He'll be fine. He's just a little... impulsive. You know how he is."
Butler Casper pursed his lips, clearly unconvinced. He gave a small, wistful smile. "I remember when he first arrived here. A little thing, trembling in my arms. Now, he's grown, a young man, but still so unpredictable."
James smiled softly at the thought, his hand reaching for a photo on the desk. It was a black-and-white image of Asazo as a child, sitting on his lap during a holiday, a toy train in his hands and his little tail curling around the Christmas tree. His fangs, even then, had been visible. He'd been so small, so innocent.
"Yes," James said, his voice soft and nostalgic. "He was cute back then, wasn't he?"
Casper nodded but didn't say anything further. He knew how much James cared for the boy, even if the man didn't always show it.
Meanwhile, below in the manor's underground chambers, Asazo Howlett was far from the innocent child in that photo. The now-adult man flickered through the shadows, his tall frame moving with a grace that belied his strength. Standing over six feet tall, he wore a black linen suit, the buttons on his shirt casually undone, revealing a muscular chest. His once-doll-like features had matured into something far more commanding, a face that was sharp and striking. His hair, now longer, was swept back carelessly, and his tail—a sharp, bone-like appendage—lashed behind him as he moved.
"Father? Are you there?" Asazo called out into the quiet stone chamber, his voice echoing off the cold walls. His tone was a little too casual, a hint of mischief in his voice.
From the depths of the stone room came the deep, steady voice of James. "Come here."
Asazo grinned, his tail flicking with excitement. In the blink of an eye, he teleported to his father's side, appearing in a burst of energy. He seemed restless, his gaze darting around the room as he fidgeted.
"I don't understand why I have to keep this wrapped up. I look ridiculous," Asazo said, tugging at the cloth around his neck. "It's like being a mummy. I can't even move freely with it. And Casper's no help—he'll lecture me for days if he finds out I left again. You know that."
James crossed his arms, his expression hardening. He leaned back, the stone chair creaking beneath him as he studied Asazo. "You're making it too easy on yourself. You can't just keep running off like this. You're drawing too much attention."
Asazo rolled his eyes but didn't argue. "Fine. But I've been cooped up here for too long. You promised we'd go on that long trip, remember?"
James didn't respond immediately. Instead, he fixed his gaze on Asazo with a seriousness that cut through the playful air. "How far along are you with your training? Have you reached the third stage yet?"
The question seemed to hit Asazo harder than expected. He faltered for a moment, his playful demeanor slipping away. "The third stage? It's... difficult. Very difficult," he muttered, clearly uncomfortable.
James's voice grew stern as he leaned forward. "You need to push through it. You're too capable to let it defeat you."
Asazo shrank back slightly, feeling the pressure of his father's expectations. "I'll try. But it's hard."
James exhaled slowly, then shifted his focus. "Good. Stay here with me for a while. Watch and learn. It'll help you when you're ready."
Asazo hesitated, unsure if he could handle the intensity of his father's training. The temperature in the room began to rise, the air thickening with energy as James centered himself. Asazo stepped back, his eyes wide as he watched his father.
James's body began to radiate heat, the air warping around him. The pressure in the room mounted, pushing Asazo back against the wall with a force that left him breathless. James's skin paled, and his features seemed to drain of color as his energy gathered in a single point.
Asazo could feel the sheer power emanating from him, a force so immense that it was almost terrifying. He pressed his hands to his ears, trying to block out the increasing pressure, the pounding of his heart in sync with his father's rising intensity.
The shockwave exploded outward, rattling everything in the stone room. For a moment, everything stopped. Then, as quickly as it had come, the energy receded, leaving the room still and silent. James was once again still, his breath shallow, his form pale and fragile.
Asazo stood frozen, unable to speak, his mind reeling from the display of raw power.
"Come," James's voice was barely a whisper, but it carried weight. "We'll try again tomorrow."
The room was quiet once more, and Asazo couldn't shake the feeling that he was witnessing something far beyond his understanding.
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