The extra is a fox eyed jester-Chapter 69: An extra’s monologue

The bath felt satisfying, his exhaustion waning with each droplet that rolled off his skin.

Steam clouded the glass walls of the bathroom, for a moment everything descended into a perfect silence save for the sound of running water but even that had its own allure.

Azazel exhaled slowly.

The weight of everything, it just came crashing on to him.

All he wanted to do was to go to school like a normal person, make friends and maybe... if the heavens was benevolent enough, then maybe, just by chance he could find love.

But he couldn’t, not with everything that was going to happen.

He couldn’t wait for Elias’ merry band of heroes to do anything, the trial had shown him that.

While they were parading with the power of friendship and all, he was going to have to clean up after their messes, from the shadows like a true extra.

So far, the main story hadn’t started yet, but he could already feel the headache building up.

’Valenis... that vixen would’ve started making preparations.’

But it was all good, he would let her do what she wanted to do, it was needed for the story to progress.

Azazel wasn’t foolish enough to believe that his actions hadn’t caused some sort of butterfly effect.

He could only observe and eliminate them when they showed up.

’Guess I have to create an information guild and maybe take over an assassin’s order while I’m at it.’

He scoffed at the ridiculous idea, but ridiculous as it seemed, it was something he was going to have to do.

Shaking his head, he ran his fingers through his hair then sighed.

"Should I get a haircut?" he muttered softly.

Still pondering on it, he grabbed his towel and exited the bath.

Lily had already prepared a set for him and my oh my did that pink haired succubus have great taste.

Resting on a sofa was a midnight blue linen shirt with ivory trousers.

A black boot—made from the skin of a shadow fox—was arranged beside the sofa while a black leather belt folded with utmost care was placed beside his attire.

Azazel didn’t waste any time. He slipped into the outfit with careful, measured motions, careful enough not to ruin the steamed tunic.

After donning the outfit he proceeded to check himself in the mirror.

The outfit suited him just fine.

Heck even that was an understatement.

Azazel had the kind of physique that made anything look good on him.

He was just born that way.

Back on earth, with a face like this, it was enough to make companies fight over him.

He smiled.

The linen shirt draped neatly over his frame while he left the first three buttons open enough to display the pale skin beneath the attire.

He brushed a strand of red hair out of his face then clicked his tongue in displeasure.

"I should really get a haircut, this stuff seems weird for some reason."

Understandable.

For someone who lived most of his life on earth, having long hair he could tie into a ponytail was more infuriating than he thought it would be.

’No seriously I should really consider getting a haircut, should I ask Lily?’

The thought made him shudder.

’Hell no, who knows what she might do to my glorious hair, that witch is unpredictable.’

To be fair, he was right to be cautious.

Unless he was willing to explain to his mother why his hair looked like it had been attacked by a raccoon, he would rather not take the risk.

But then again, who was to say that the pink haired succubus couldn’t give good haircuts?

Azazel was judging the book by its cover, even though the book happened to be one hell of a seductive demoness carved in mockery of perfection.

’Maybe I should ask Karina, who knows she might be skilled with the scissors, she looked the type.’

Big mistake though.

But no one was going to tell him.

Perhaps in the attempt of running away from looking like the victim of a raccoon attack, his mother would end up asking if he switched ’that’ way.

Karina served his sister so it wouldn’t be surprising if Azazel ended up looking like a cheap imitation of his mother, with flattering braids, the type to wash out any remaining masculinity left in him.

And speaking of his sister.

Azazel’s expression morphed into a small frown.

He didn’t know if the herbs were effective, he needed to ask or at least see the results with his own eyes.

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

He considered breaking into her room just to check on her, but if Leona really was healthy then he was in serious trouble.

Azazel had all doubts that Leona would spare him an audience before she proceeded to beat the living day shit out of him.

’Yikes...’

He was all out of options but the day wasn’t over, there was still a chance of meeting her during a casual stroll or something...

He hoped.

He just needed to see her once, to know if she was ok.

That was enough for him.

He couldn’t bear the thought of his mother being distressed because of Leona’s health, he was sure some rumors would’ve already spread on her recent appearance.

A weary sigh left his lips.

"What a bother."

It wasn’t like he was looking any better himself, at this point he couldn’t even tell if the Astavore’s were cursed with the ability not to fall asleep without meeting some sort of freakish crap.

Even Azazel was having mixed feelings about falling asleep, for all he knew he could meet something worse than his damned blade.

What if he ended up in the middle of a volcano or a frozen lake, what if it was worse, like plummeting down an endless sky with a crushing pressure the more he descended or waking up in the middle of a den of nightmarish creatures

A shudder coursed through his body.

He gulped audibly.

"I think I need to see a psychic."