Path of the Extra

Chapter 392: Redo. Redo. Redo.

Unlike Azriel, Jasmine still wore her mask. For once, she was grateful for that decision. At least no one could see the expression twisting across her face.

Though even that hardly mattered. Her gaze had dropped to her clenched fists resting in her lap, while beside her Azriel watched the performer in the center with a calmness that unsettled her. A crowd had gathered there, watching in admiration as the performer leapt through a flaming hoop. Children gasped in wonder. Adults clapped, impressed.

After everything she had heard so far, Jasmine felt only two things.

Sadness. And anger.

Oh, how cruel and twisted Leo Karumi’s life had been.

“What then…?” Jasmine asked, even though a part of her didn’t want to. But she felt like she had to.

She had to know.

She needed to know.

How could she not want to know about the life her little brother had lived before?

Yet even after she asked, Azriel said nothing. He hadn’t really paused much at all while speaking about his life up until the end of middle school—certainly not like this.

Lifting her head slightly, Jasmine turned to look at him. He was just as still as he had been when he started.

“Azriel,” she called softly.

That seemed to pull him out of whatever he’d drifted into. He glanced at her and responded with a quiet, “Hmm?”

Jasmine pressed her lips together, forcing her emotions down before they could leak into her voice.

“What happened then?”

There was still so much he hadn’t told her. Jasmine knew that. For example, why his father had barely been mentioned at all, as though Azriel had been deliberately avoiding the subject.

“Ah…” He parted his lips, then frowned and closed them again. He looked as though he was debating whether to continue.

“I… I’m not sure it’s something you would want to hear,” he said at last. “It might not be very comfortable for you, with everything that happened after Lea’s suicide.”

And everything before that was?

’Just how much worse can it get?’

Jasmine leaned a little closer, her eyes—visible through the openings in her mask—fixed on him with seriousness. Azriel turned his head slightly and looked back at her.

“I didn’t ask about your life as Leo Karumi thinking any of this would be comfortable.”

Azriel still hesitated. Then he let out a low breath and looked back toward the performance.

“…I’m not comfortable,” he said quietly.

Jasmine blinked a few times, then felt herself sink a little.

What could she do? It wasn’t as if she could force him to speak of this anymore than he already had.

But, by some small miracle, Azriel seemed to relent—perhaps because he’d noticed how desperately she wanted to know more about the boy called Leo Karumi.

He sighed more audibly this time, then spoke in the same tranquil tone as before.

“Well… after Lea died, Mother said it was my fault. She convinced me that, because I was the monster I was, I had driven her to take her own life. That I never should have spent time with her. Or with anyone.”

Jasmine narrowed her eyes, frustration and anger tightening in her chest. It infuriated her that Azriel still called that woman Mother.

Azriel didn’t go into as much detail now. Just as he’d said, he was too uncomfortable to speak much about the latter half of his life. Still, Jasmine was grateful he was sharing anything at all—even if what he had just said only made her angrier. The thought that that woman had manipulated Azriel into believing Lea’s death was his fault made her sick.

“If I’m being honest,” Azriel continued, “Lea was probably the first person since Nathan whose company I genuinely enjoyed in a long time…”

A sad smile touched his face, and Jasmine’s heart ached at the sight of it.

“The one good thing that came from her death—if I can even say something that messed up—is that Lia and I finally bonded during the funeral.”

He gave a light, almost disbelieving laugh.

Without meaning to, Jasmine smiled too.

Then Azriel fell silent again.

Seeing that he was struggling with what to say next, Jasmine decided to ask one of her own questions.

“What about your father?”

Azriel’s face changed instantly.

Disgust twisted across it.

After a second, he spoke.

“Not long after the funeral, I was outside with Nathan the day before our high school debut. Then I saw my father.”

Now he looked as if he wanted to vomit.

“He had said he was away on a business trip. But I saw him with another woman. They were kissing.”

Jasmine’s eyes widened immediately, but Azriel wasn’t finished.

“Unfortunately, when I spotted him, he spotted me too. We confronted each other, and he kept saying it was a mistake. That he wouldn’t do it again. That he only did it because Mother was almost never home when he was, because she stressed him out, because they kept fighting. He kept apologizing and told me that if I didn’t want to tear our family apart, I had to keep quiet.”

Azriel lowered his gaze. His fist had clenched again.

Then he spoke of something even uglier.

“He used those same excuses the four other times I caught him cheating on her.”

“What—”

Jasmine’s mouth fell open.

’F-four more times? That… how disgusting!’

No wonder Azriel had barely mentioned him.

“W-why would you…” she stammered. “Why would you still keep that secret? I mean—that’s far too much.”

Azriel looked away, almost ashamed, but nodded.

“I hate disloyalty. But…” His voice grew quieter. “I just couldn’t do it. Nathan disagreed. He kept trying to tell me I didn’t have to put up with it anymore… but I was too stubborn.”

His voice dropped even lower.

“We eventually got into a heated fight.”

Jasmine’s expression tightened.

“And I broke his arm.”

“Azriel…”

He didn’t look at her. Even now, that memory clearly filled him with guilt.

Trying not to sound too sad, Jasmine forced a gentler, brighter tone into her voice.

“But you two made up, right?”

As if remembering something, Azriel smiled again.

“Yeah. That idiot didn’t really blame me. He was the one who kept chasing after me with a broken arm while I tried to avoid him.”

A relieved smile touched Jasmine’s lips.

For all it was worth, that boy—Nathan—had truly been a good friend. And for that, she was grateful.

Even though Azriel never told his mother the truth about his father’s betrayal, it was the reason he came to despise harems so deeply.

“Ahh, well… I barely spoke to my father anymore. My relationship with my mother kept getting worse too. The thought of keeping such a huge lie from her made me sick whenever I was in the same room as her. At the same time, I was growing more and more frustrated with my lack of progress in everything… Mother must have noticed our relationship worsening as well, so her ’discipline’ and ’reminders’ became more frequent, I guess.”

Closing his eyes, Azriel leaned back as if to relax.

Jasmine was anything but relaxed.

’Discipline? Reminders?’

It was getting harder and harder not to snap at the way Azriel kept softening it with those words.

“I eventually reached my breaking point,” he said suddenly, drawing her full attention as he kept his eyes closed and spoke with that same calm tone.

“I couldn’t take it anymore. So I quit. I quit everything. I quit piano, basketball, and studying medical books I never should have touched before finishing high school. I even developed a bad interest in gambling. I quit trying to stomach my father’s presence—or being at home at all. I quit trying to be perfect, because no matter what I did, I realized I would never live up to Mother’s expectations… or even my own.”

Jasmine watched him lower his gaze, sorrow settling over his face, and gently placed a hand on his arm.

“Those expectations were ridiculous from the very beginning. You shouldn’t punish yourself over them.” She paused, then forced herself to say what needed to be said. “Quite frankly… that woman was not worthy of being called your mother.”

A solemn smile touched Azriel’s lips. He looked at her for a moment, then lowered his eyes again.

“Perhaps.”

“I’m serious,” Jasmine said firmly. “You shouldn’t even call her that.”

Azriel didn’t seem to take her words to heart.

’That bitch wasn’t even his real mother. Why can’t he let go?’

“I know,” Azriel said suddenly, acknowledging her thoughts—or at least her meaning. “I know I shouldn’t call her that. I know you’re right. And I know Nathan was right too… but I can’t help it.”

“Why?” Jasmine asked, genuinely unable to understand.

“I don’t know…” Azriel admitted, his face carrying the lost look of someone who truly didn’t understand himself. “I just can’t. Since I was a child… she kept saying the same things over and over, right up until the day she was gone.”

Jasmine bit her lip.

By now, she already knew what those words were.

“I am a monster.”

“No one would accept me.”

“Only she could love someone like me.”

That sorrowful smile appeared again, and the sight of it made Jasmine’s heart ache.

“I guess even though I know I shouldn’t… I can’t help but still believe her.”

“…”

Azriel looked down at his hands, and Jasmine’s words caught in her throat. She hated the expression on his face.

“Back then, and even now, she’s right. Now more than ever, I’ve realized her words were always true.”

“No!” Jasmine snapped instantly. “Nothing she ever said to you was true, and it never will be! I don’t see you as a monster, and I love you. That alone proves her words false!”

Her voice came out louder than she intended, desperation spilling through it. Maybe that was for the best. Maybe if she said it forcefully enough, it would finally drill itself into his stubborn skull.

But Azriel still didn’t look convinced.

The sight of that made something sink heavily in Jasmine’s stomach as he continued staring at his hands.

“[Redo], [Redo], [Redo]…” he murmured. “I told you about my unique skill. I have manipulated people, killed people, burned homes, and ruined countless lives. Just because I erased those timelines doesn’t change what I did. It doesn’t change the fact that I am capable of that kind of evil.”

Then Azriel looked at Jasmine with a deadly seriousness that made her swallow nervously.

“The God of Time gave me a skill called [Villain’s Script].”

“…Huh?”

“A skill given by a god. It’s probably one of the most broken and dangerous things I possess, and I have never used it. Not once.”

His voice lowered.

“Because I know that the moment I do, I won’t be acting anymore. I won’t even realize when it happens. Before I know it, I’ll become exactly what I wish to prevent.”

A villain.

It always starts as an act.

Until it doesn’t.

His eyes narrowed further, and his voice turned darker—bitter, heavy.

“[Redo] has already affected too much in this timeline. I am the one who killed my parents and my little sister in cold blood. But who’s to say I wasn’t also the cause of all the misery in my life? Or in other people’s? Who’s to say Lea’s death wasn’t something I caused with [Redo] too? That I might have manipulated my father into sinning? Or that my mother became who she was because of me? That…”

Azriel’s voice trembled more and more.

“That my biological mother and father—that their deaths were by my hands as well!?”

Jasmine flinched and let go of his arm.

There was hatred in his eyes. Not for her but for himself.

“I kept trying to convince myself,” Azriel said, letting out a hollow, self-deprecating laugh.

“I manipulated my own mind long before [Redo]. Before I even became Azriel Crimson. And it worked. It might have worked for much longer if I had never come to this world.”

His eyes darkened.

“But I did. And every time something happened here, it cracked the lie a little more. And after Pollux… there’s truly nothing left. He was right too, Jasmine.”

Azriel smiled, but there was nothing warm in it.

“I’m nothing but a coward.”

“What… what are you talking about?” Jasmine asked, trying to suppress the shake in her voice and failing.

Azriel looked at her and laughed softly again, like he found himself pathetic.

“My mother loved me. My father was proud of me. My little sister looked up to me. I was a normal student who lost his family in a car accident.” He paused. “That was the biggest lie I ever told myself.”

“…”

“I managed to convince myself that it was the truth. I forgot everything else and built a fake reality—fake memories—in my own head just to avoid the real one.”

“…”

“Tell me, sister… can you really love someone as messed up as me?”