Elian climbed the stairs, his shadow flickering on the stone wall from the candlelight.
He felt so tiny walking between those intimidating walls, and the chill air made his skin sprout with goosebumps.
'What am I walking into?' he thought.
He finally emerged into a vast hallway, the dim curtains draped throughout the walls blocking the windows.
The air smelled clean, rich, and of Lucien.
There was no doubt he had stepped into the devil's lair.
"Follow me, Elian," Ms. Beck walked past Elian and ahead.
Elian looked around him one last time before following the woman.
As he walked, he couldn't help the sudden flutter of his chest as he passed by the double gigantic doors.
He knew who the room belonged to.
And knowing that he was going to be sleeping in the same space as Lucien made his heart flutter... with hate, probably.
"Enter," Ms. Beck said right in front of the room by the side of the double doors, pushing the door open.
"E-enter?" Elian stammered, staring at the door like it had wronged him.
"What about the other rooms? The one farthest from here?" He pointed at the end of the corridor.
Anything but next to Lucien.
Ms. Beck didn't answer him; she walked into the room, lighting up the bedside lamp as she did.
"His Grace will be up soon. If you don't want to get into trouble, do as you're told." Ms. Beck's stern voice carried out from the room.
Gulping, Elian slowly nodded.
Of course, he'd made a pact with the devil; now, he was bound to obey.
With great difficulty from his will, he dragged himself into the room.
The scent of lavender candles filled his senses, calming him despite his environment.
The floor was made of smooth marble, cooling his tired feet, and the bed... so much bigger than any he'd ever owned.
He was really sheltered... in hell.
The curtains were drawn, the evening sunlight streaming in, pulling him close to watch the sunset.
As he neared the window, his breath almost hitched as he caught sight of such a vast, lovely garden below.
He never knew the mansion had such a beautiful, peaceful place.
That looked like a place he could spend his whole day without needing to eat.
Away from Lucien and all the darkened members of his home.
"Hurry, undress. Rid yourself of those sacks," Ms. Beck spoke behind Elian, her tone clipped.
Elian blinked, turning to face the woman.
"Ms. Beck... why am I here?" he asked slowly, his eyes scanning the large room.
He felt so... out of place.
He was used to his tiny home before his father's incident, and then the dungeon and the stables. He'd never slept in a room this large; it made him feel uneasy.
"You shall ask His Grace that when he visits you. Now, I don't have all day. Undress," Ms. Beck ordered, stepping away to go over to the tall wardrobe by the wall.
Elian had learned not to argue with her about his nudity, hence he'd be reminded that she had seen the Duke naked from infancy until this date.
He gradually rid himself of his ragged clothing, standing naked beside the window with his hands covering his manhood.
"You shall wear this after cleaning yourself," she dropped a few clothes on the mattress, turning away from him.
"The washroom is right here," she moved toward a door beside the wardrobe and pushed it open.
"Thank you," Elian murmured awkwardly.
He clenched his jaws as he walked toward the washroom, needing to leave her sight urgently.
The washroom was small, tucked just beyond the narrow wooden door, but unlike the servants' quarters, it was… refined.
Cool stone tiles lined the floor, smooth beneath bare feet, and the air felt cleaner—less damp, though still carrying a faint trace of moisture. A deeper basin sat atop a carved stand, wider and sturdier than the one he had used before, with a polished jug of water placed neatly beside it.
A folded cloth rested at the edge, softer, newer. A proper bar of soap lay in a small dish, its scent faint but clean. Above the basin hung a modest mirror, slightly clouded at the edges, catching just enough light from the taller window set into the wall.
The window itself was larger here, letting in a thin stream of daylight that softened the room, chasing away the heaviness he had grown used to.
A towel—thicker, untouched—hung neatly within reach.
Nothing lavish.
But not neglectful either.
Just enough comfort to remind him—
He was no longer in the dungeon…
…but he wasn't free, either.
He wasted no time, washing himself quickly with the soap and cloth.
The water wasn't as freezing as the one in the servants' quarters, just lukewarm and right.
This time, he washed his hair, too, rinsing the dirt and dried blood from it.
When he was done, he wiped his body with the towel and tied it around his waist.
Ms. Beck might not mind him stepping out naked, but he wasn't comfortable with the whole scenario.
Ms. Beck was still standing beside his bed as he entered the room, her eyes cast on the wall as if she hadn't noticed him.
He quietly went over and picked up the brown cotton pants.
It wasn't as rich as Lucien's or other nobles', but it was comfortable enough for a common man like himself to wear.
He fixed his legs in and pulled them up from under his towel.
He had just taken off the towel around his waist when the door creaked behind him.
His movements stilled, a tingly sensation running down his spine.
"Leave us," Lucien ordered.
Ms. Beck simply bowed her head and walked out of the room without a word.
The door clicked shut, and the large room suddenly started to shrink Elian in.
He felt exposed as he stood shirtless under Lucien's heated gaze.
Slowly, he heard Lucien's footsteps approaching.
He gritted his teeth, clutching the towel tightly in his hands.
He stared at the white shirt on the bed, wishing it could magically appear on his body.
Suddenly, the hair behind his neck rose as Lucien halted right behind him.
Lucien wasn't expecting to walk into a naked Elian, but he did. And he had suddenly realized that every part of Elian seemed to be infuriatingly flawless.
The slightly damp skin glowed under the warm light, his damp hair slowly dropping water down his neck and rolling down his slender waist.
And then... something caught his eye.
A very small but distinct mark on the side of Elian's waist.
Elian bit his lip and suddenly decided to step away from Lucien.
He could no longer bear the heat Lucien was channelling toward him.
However, before he could lift his leg, Lucien's large, gloved hand caught his waist, locking him in place.
Elian gasped, the glove sending a chill down his spine but instantly warming him up and threatening to turn his knees to jello.
"Your Grace," Elian rasped, hating himself for lacking conviction.
Lucien crowded Elian's back, his eyes narrowing at the flush at the back of Elian's neck before it lowered to his waist again.
"What is this?" Lucien murmured, dragging his hand to the mark on the side of Elian's waist.
"Nothing," Elian tried to move away, but Lucien suddenly spun him around, his hands clutching his waist tightly.
"You're hurting me," Elian groaned as Lucien's fingers dug painfully into his skin.
Lucien didn't respond; his eyes were locked on Elian's face, watching the way the damp brown curls framed his delicate face.
And, for a second, he was tempted to remove his gloves and touch Elian again.
He'd never felt anything as smooth as Elian's skin before.
It was bothersomely addictive... dangerous.
"You're hurting me, Lucien," Elian cried out, his hands clasping around Lucien's wrists.
Like his name on Elian's lips was a spell over him, his hands instantly loosened on Elian's waist... loosened, but not releasing.
He lifted his eyes to Elian's widened ones, his eyes darkening as he took in Elian's flushed face.
He looked scared, but those flushes did nothing to hide how annoyingly attractive the traitor was.
"What did you call me?" he questioned lowly, his face leaning down just a bit to make sure Elian had no choice but to look at him.
Elian swallowed hard, shaking his head, "I'm sorry, Your Grace. You were hurting me –"
"Why did you say my name, Elian?" Lucien's voice dipped so low that it vibrated between them like a string.
Elian was heaving, from Lucien's hand on his waist and the face that seemed to be slowly nearing his.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, turning his face away.
His heart was thudding like a racing horse, his pulse dancing in his ears.
"Look at me," Lucien commanded, his tone relaxed.
Elian shuddered slightly, shaking his head again, "I really am sorry. It was a slip of the tongue –"
"I said, look at me, Elian," Lucien murmured huskily.
Closing his eyes, he returned his face to Lucien, refusing to open them.
"Don't make me ask again," Lucien whispered, his fingers tightening slightly on Elian's waist.
Sighing in defeat, Elian opened his eyes, and his heart almost stopped beating when he saw the look in Lucien's eyes.
Hunger?
It can't be!
He must be imagining things.
He had to be.
A gasp escaped his lips as Lucien leaned in, his toes curling as Lucien's warm breath ghosted over his sensitive ear.
"Never say my name in that manner again. Or else..." Lucien shut his eyes, inhaling very gently, then he stepped away from Elian.
Elian was panting by the time Lucien released him.
He was trembling, but he tried his best to hide it as he hurried to cover himself up with the shirt.
"Stop," Lucien said, his tone reverting back to the cold and detached one Elian was used to.
Elian's fingers paused on his buttons, his heart still racing from their earlier encounter.
"Lift your shirt," Lucien commanded.
Elian frowned, about to refuse but suddenly recalled what had drawn Lucien's attention in the first place.
Reluctantly, he lifted his shirt to reveal the mark: a droplet with a thin vertical slit inside (like an eye/pupil).
Lucien stilled.
Even if no one knew what that mark meant, he would.
He'd read about them for so long that he wouldn't miss such a sign.
And if he had seen it sooner, he would have known what Elian was a long time ago.
He stepped closer, his hand reaching out, almost touching it but dropping back to his side at the last second.
"You bear the Truth Seeker mark," Lucien stated quietly.
Elian nodded, almost unbothered.
Lucien already knew who he was; what was the use of hiding his mark?
"I am the Truth Seeker," Elian replied, fastening the remaining of his buttons.
Lucien suddenly cupped Elian's chin, gazing deep into his eyes, "You will not expose yourself to anyone else... just me," he murmured.