I finished my work quietly, my hands moving out of habit while my mind lingered elsewhere. When it was done, I didn't leave right away. I remained there for a moment, standing still, waiting—no, expecting. Maybe he would call me. Maybe he would say something, anything at all. But the silence stayed exactly as it was. Lucian didn't call.
When the time finally came, I walked toward his office, my steps slow and hesitant, as if I already knew what I would find. I pushed the door open gently and paused at the entrance. He was gone. There was no goodbye, no instructions, no trace of his presence left behind—just an empty room. My gaze shifted to the table, where the money had been placed neatly, as always. I looked at it for a few seconds, absorbing the quiet finality of it, before stepping forward and picking it up. Without another thought, I turned away. I take the money and vanish back into my real world, where months pass quietly, almost without me noticing.
In my real world, everything feels different. It is not heavy or confusing; it simply feels right. Life moves with a quiet steadiness, free from the weight I had once grown used to. Arian and I grow closer over time, and so does Elsie. The three of us slip into an easy rhythm, something natural and unforced. There are no expectations between us, no complications—just a simple, genuine connection. We make plans without overthinking them—movies, random outings, exploring new places, even trips that come together at the last minute. Somehow, those moments stay with me, leaving behind a warmth that lingers long after they pass.
Then there is Alexander. What begins as occasional conversations gradually becomes a part of my everyday life. His calls feel effortless, as though they naturally belong in my routine. There is a quiet comfort in speaking with him, a lightness that makes everything feel a little easier. One day, he tells me he will be coming to my country in a month because he wants to meet me. Almost casually, he mentions that he wants to show me things that once belonged to his late fiancée—her photographs, her memories. There is something unspoken in his voice when he says it, something he still carries with him. Yet, he is trying. He has started meeting other women, going on dates, even if he never stays long enough for a second one. Still, he is trying to move forward. He also says he wants to meet my friends—Arian and Elsie—and I find myself looking forward to it more than I expected.
I am happy—not in a loud or overwhelming way, but in a quiet, steady sense of contentment. My life—my real life—is slowly becoming everything I once dreamed it would be. I have built something for myself: my own house, my car, and properties that give me a sense of stability. Now, I am saving to open my own café someday. Everything I once imagined is gradually turning real, falling into place in a way that feels calm and certain. For the first time in a long while, everything feels settled. Everything feels right.
And in that hell world, things continued in their own quiet, unsettling way.
David had become a familiar presence at the entrance gate. "Hey… how are you doing?" he would ask almost every day now, his tone easy, almost friendly. The sharpness he once carried was gone. Sometimes, he even made small jokes, as if trying to fill the silence that used to exist between us. I would respond with a slight smile, offer a brief reply, and continue walking inside without stopping.
With Lucian Ravenswood, however, everything had changed.
We had become nothing more than an owner and an employee—distant, professional, and detached. The memories of how he used to be felt faded now, like something that belonged to another time, another version of him. He had changed, and I didn't know why. Maybe it was because of his girlfriend. Then again, it didn't really matter. Demon or not… in the end, he was still a man. And men, I reminded myself, were all the same. I pushed the thought aside and chose not to dwell on it.
His relationship with Amelia had grown stronger. It was visible in the way they spoke, the way they laughed together so easily. Whenever Lucian came to the library, Amelia was always with him. They would walk together toward the deeper side of the library, a quiet corner that had gradually become theirs.
Sometimes, when they passed by me, Amelia wouldn't even look in my direction. Not once. No acknowledgment, no greeting—nothing. It was as if I didn't exist. She didn't like me; that much was clear. I never understood why. Maybe it was simply because I was human.
Lucian never approached me directly anymore. If he had work for me, he would speak from wherever he was—his cabin or the far end of the library—and I would hear him clearly, as if distance meant nothing in that place. I would complete the task without question. And if I needed something, I would speak from where I stood, knowing he would hear me too. That was how we communicated now—voices carried through space, detached and impersonal.
It still felt strange at times, how much he had changed. But I had already accepted it—his behavior, his world, the distance between us. So I adjusted.
The payment process remained exactly the same. After they left, I would enter the cabin at the usual time. The money would already be placed neatly on the table, waiting. I would take it without a word and disappear back into my world.
Most of my time there was spent in the library or in Alexander's cabin.
He was the only one who knew everything—my past with Lucian, what he had been, and what he had become. At first, he didn't believe me. Not when I spoke about Lucian's past self, and not when I described the man he had become now. To him, it didn't make sense. I could see it in his reactions, in the way his words slowed down, uncertain and searching.
"How can one person have so many personalities?" he had asked once, almost to himself.
He couldn't understand it.
And honestly, neither could I.
That evening, I was in my world, walking down the road as the soft glow of streetlights began to replace the fading daylight. My phone was pressed against my ear as I spoke to Alexander. He was asking about dates—when he should come, how we would plan everything ahead. I listened, replying casually, everything feeling normal, steady… safe.
Then suddenly, something shifted.
Out of nowhere, I saw a small girl—no more than four years old—running toward the road.
A car was coming.
Fast. Too fast.
For a fraction of a second, everything around me seemed to freeze. The sound of the world dulled, my heartbeat echoing louder than anything else. Then, without thinking, I ran.
There was no hesitation, no second thought. I just moved.
I reached her just in time and pulled her back, holding her tightly as we stumbled away from the road.
She was safe.
But I wasn't.
A sharp impact followed, and everything went dark as my body hit the ground. Somewhere in the distance, I heard the faint sound of something breaking—my phone sliding across the road—and then, silence swallowed everything.
When I opened my eyes, the world was blurred and unsteady. Figures surrounded me, their faces unclear, their voices overlapping in panic. Someone was calling for an ambulance. Someone else was shouting instructions. The noise felt distant, as if it were happening far away from me.
My head throbbed.
Warmth trickled down—I realized it was blood.
Everything felt like it was slipping away.
A sharp impact followed, and everything went dark as my body hit the ground. Somewhere in the distance, I heard the faint sound of something breaking—my phone sliding across the road—and then, silence swallowed everything.
When I opened my eyes, the world was blurred and unsteady. Figures surrounded me, their faces unclear, their voices overlapping in panic. Someone was calling for an ambulance. Someone else was shouting instructions. The noise felt distant, as if it were happening far away from me.
My head throbbed.
Warmth trickled down—I realized it was blood.
Everything felt like it was slipping away.
Just moments ago, everything had been fine—my life, my dreams, my café… Arian, Elsie, Alexander… even Lucian. Faces and memories flashed through my mind in fragments, like pieces of something I was about to lose.
A single thought formed, heavy and terrifying.
Is this it? Am I going to die?
And then… darkness.