A suffocating tension filled the grand halls of Veythor's mansion. The air was thick, almost tangible, as if it carried the weight of the unspoken. The dim candlelight flickered against the walls, casting long shadows that danced like specters in the silence.
Vaelina stood there, her delicate frame trembling. Tears rolled down her cheeks, falling soundlessly onto the cold marble floor. Each drop, heavy with sorrow, seemed to echo in the vast chamber, like pearls sinking into an abyss.
Veythor remained still, an unmoving monolith of indifference. His crimson eyes, sharp as a predator's, bore into her without a shred of warmth. There was no sympathy, no hesitation only an irritation that gnawed at the edge of his mind.
This woman… she could become a great obstacle. I should have killed her in the past. A foolish, blind creature.
He turned toward her, his gaze like a blade against her fragile resolve. His voice, when it came, was cold and distant.
"Return to the royal castle. It would be a problem if someone saw you here especially considering you are already engaged to Lord Sugen."
Vaelina stiffened. The words should have crushed her, should have made her surrender. But instead, she wiped away her tears, straightened her back, and met his gaze with a fire of her own.
"I will not give up," she said, her voice firm despite the tremor beneath it. "I will never give up on you."
Veythor's eyes narrowed.
Foolish. Naïve. Her stubbornness disgusted him.
His mind drifted, thoughts curling like tendrils of smoke in the darkness.
The world is cruel. Life is cruel. If existence itself is a cycle of endless suffering, then the only true mercy is to end it all.
Love. That wretched, miserable thing. How he loathed it. How he wished it could be eradicated from the very fabric of existence. His fingers twitched slightly. If only he could tear this woman apart strip away her foolish hope, carve it from her heart, and leave her to rot.
Instead, he exhaled.
"Do whatever you want. It doesn't matter. I will never fall for anyone."
Vaelina's fists clenched. Her voice rose, thick with desperation.
"Even so… even so, I will try! I...I will not give up!"
Veythor's gaze darkened. "In this cruel world, love has no meaning."
Vaelina's breath hitched, but she did not falter. "No! No, you're wrong! Even in this cruel world, love and happiness are worth fighting for!"
Veythor sighed. There was nothing more to be said. She would never understand. She would never grasp why he rejected love, why happiness was nothing more than an illusion an insult to those who knew the true face of suffering.
His voice dropped to a whisper. "Go back to the royal castle."
Silence stretched between them. Vaelina hesitated, searching his face for something,anything But there was nothing. Only the abyss.
Finally, she turned. Her footsteps echoed through the halls as she walked toward the exit. At the doorway, she met Grey.
Grey's expression barely flickered, though surprise glinted in his eyes. He bowed slightly. Vaelina gave a small nod before disappearing into the night.The doors shut behind her.
Grey entered the mansion. Veythor was still standing where Vaelina had left him, his figure bathed in the dim light of the chandelier.
"Oh, Grey. You're back. Did you bring the wine?"
Grey gave a slight nod. "Yes, my lord. Shall we go upstairs?"
Without another word, they ascended the staircase, heading toward Veythor's private balcony. Outside, the evening air was cool, carrying the scent of distant rain. The last remnants of sunlight painted the horizon in hues of deep red and violet, bleeding into the encroaching darkness.
Grey pulled out a cigarette, offering one to Veythor. They lit up in unison, the glow of burning embers briefly illuminating their faces. Smoke curled lazily into the air.
After a few moments of silence, Grey poured the wine. The deep crimson liquid reflected the dying light, swirling in the goblets like blood. They took a sip. The bitterness was sharp, cleansing.
Then, Grey spoke.
"Sir, may I ask you something?"
Veythor exhaled smoke. "Ask."
Grey hesitated. "The princess… why was she here?"
Veythor chuckled, low and sharp. "Oh, that? She just came to see a broken and injured commoner. Nothing special. Formalities."
Grey remained silent. He took another slow drink, letting the weight of the words settle between them.
"Forgive me for asking, my lord."
Veythor waved a hand dismissively. "No need." He took another drag of his cigarette, his gaze drifting toward the horizon. "Where are Eliya and Morgan?"
"Still at the academy. They should return soon."
Veythor said nothing. He simply watched as the last light of the sun was swallowed by the endless dark.
Eliya and Morgan were the offspring of Miral Krules, which made them Erika's siblings. But why had Veythor kept them alive? That remained a mystery, one that gnawed at the edges of the mansion's oppressive silence.
The darkness of night crept steadily, swallowing the last traces of daylight. Eliya and Morgan lived in Veythor's mansion now. Perhaps it was Veythor himself who kept them there, a game within a game, and they were mere pawns in it.
Grow stood, his movement deliberate.
"Sir, I'll prepare the food. Eliya and Morgan should be arriving soon. Should I tell them that you've returned? They've refused to go back to the academy for days… ever since you disappeared."
Veythor's lips curled into a knowing smirk.
"Let's give them a big surprise," he replied.
Grey nodded slightly, then exited the room.
------
In the quiet streets of Kranel, two children walked in silence, drawing closer to Veythor's mansion. Eliya and Morgan siblings of Erika had known little else but the shadows of this place. They were roughly the same age, both wearing academy uniforms, both with similar features. Eliya, with long black hair and piercing blue eyes, was an image of her sister. Morgan, with short brown hair and the same blue eyes, walked beside her, his silence speaking volumes.
Suddenly, Morgan spoke.
"Hey, do you think Big Brother Veythor has really come back? They were all talking about it at the academy."
Eliya glanced at him, her gaze soft, but her words firm. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the wind catch her dark hair. "Maybe we'll see that soon."
They reached the mansion and entered through the grand entry hall. It was empty. Morgan, with a puzzled expression, called out.
"Old Man Grey? Old Man Grey... old man Grey?"
His voice grew softer as he muttered, "Where's that old fart? He's usually here by the time we return."
A faint sadness flickered in his voice. Eliya, not in the mood for complaints, smacked his head lightly.
"Ouch!"
"Don't call Mr. Grey 'old fart.' He's probably out shopping. Let's go to our rooms. He'll be back eventually," she replied, her voice carrying the authority of someone far older than her years.
There was no sign of Veythor's return, not yet. The two siblings ascended the stairs, heading to their respective rooms. Morgan entered his room, tossing his bag onto the shoulder of the chair beside the study table. There, a sword lay beside it, and a balcony stretched out behind him. The room was dark, and Morgan didn't bother turning on the lights. His mind wandered, lingering on old memories.
Then, a chill ran through him. A presence a dark, suffocating presence hovered behind him.
His body froze, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.
What the hell...?
He turned to face the balcony, the curtains fluttering in the wind. And for a moment, there was a figure standing in the shadows, indistinct, ominous.
Morgan's blood ran cold. Slowly, his feet moved, backing toward the door. He reached for the handle, only to find the door locked.
What the fuck?
He clenched his fists, his body tense. Grabbing the sword, he raised it, but before he could react, the dark figure stepped forward, moving with terrifying speed. Morgan's breath caught in his throat.
"Who the hell are you? What are you doing here? Show yourself!" Morgan shouted, his voice shaking.
The dark figure leapt at him, a glinting dagger raised in the air. Morgan's scream echoed through the room.
"Whoaaa—!"
From her room, Eliya heard the commotion. She rushed to her feet, panic surging through her chest. Without thinking, she dashed toward Morgan's room, banging on the door.
"Morgan! Morgan, what happened? Why are you screaming like that? Open the door!"Morgan open the door or else I'm gonna destroy this door
The dark figure struck with his dagger. Morgan barely dodged, crashing into the door as he evaded the blow. The figure lunged again, but Morgan managed to block it, the force sending him sprawling to the ground, his back pressed against the door. Silence enveloped the room as he struggled to catch his breath, unable to speak. Outside, Eliya's frantic shouts and pounding on the door echoed, but Morgan could do little to respond.
He gritted his teeth, desperately holding his ground against the relentless strikes. But the pressure was too much. With a sickening crack, his sword shattered. The dark figure stepped back, a brief pause before he kicked Morgan in the chest. The force of the blow shattered the door lock, sending it tumbling toward Eliya.
Stunned, she froze, her mind struggling to comprehend the scene unfolding before her. She saw Morgan on the floor, bloodied and barely conscious, but her body refused to move. Her heart pounded in her chest. Then, she heard the sound of boots echoing through the hallway.
The dark figure slowly emerged from the room, his presence like a suffocating storm. The hall's lights flickered under the weight of his aura. When Eliya saw his face, her breath caught in her throat. Her hands instinctively went to her mouth, her voice barely a whisper.
"Big... Brother Veythor?"
Morgan, in a daze, lifted his head, pain shooting through his neck. His eyes widened in realization. Despite the agony, he couldn't help but let out a strained gasp.
Yes, it was him. The surprise Veythor had mentioned with Grey.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, as if a dam had broken, Eliya and Morgan rushed forward, their emotions overwhelming them. Eliya threw her arms around Veythor first, clutching him tightly as tears spilled from her eyes. Morgan, still weak, forced himself up and joined them, burying his face in Veythor's chest.
"You idiot… you were gone for so long," Eliya choked out between sobs.
Morgan clenched his fists against Veythor's coat. "We thought… we thought you" His voice cracked, unable to finish.
Veythor stood still for a moment before letting out a quiet chuckle, placing a hand on their heads. "Now, now," he murmured, his smirk softening.
"Did you really think I would die that easily?"
But beneath the confident words, his gaze darkened because even he knew how close he had been to never coming back.
"This was shocking. But what was even more disturbing was Eliya and Morgan's reaction. They did not shrink away in fear. They did not scream accusations like Erika had. Instead, they ran to him, embracing the very man who had taken their father's life. Just how much had Veythor twisted their minds? Only he and God knew."