Ivan furrowed his brows, taken aback by Lucian's sudden question. It sounded simple on the surface, yet there was something strange and heavy lingering beneath the words. He looked at Lucian intently, trying to decipher what his Young Master truly meant.
"What do you mean, Young Master? Your face looks as handsome as ever," Ivan replied, his voice laced with slight hesitation. He couldn't understand why Lucian was asking such a thing. There was something oddly unsettling about the question.
Lucian fell silent for a moment, then slowly shook his head. "You are being honest with me, right?" he asked, his voice sounding faintly disappointed. He looked at Ivan with an expression that was hard to read.
"What I mean is... is there something wrong with my face? Some kind of abnormality? Or a wound? Or perhaps a scar that can never be healed? Something that is... hideous?" He added the last part in barely more than a whisper.
Ivan went quiet, gazing at Lucian with deep concern and attention. He was starting to realize that something much more serious was going on. This wasn't just a casual question; it was a manifestation of deep-seated fear and confusion.
"Young Master..." Ivan began softly, his voice gentle and full of empathy. "I do not see any abnormalities or wounds on your face. You look... exactly as you always have. However..." He paused for a moment, hesitating. "Did something happen that made you feel this way?" He stepped closer carefully, trying to understand what was truly going through Lucian's mind.
"No, I just feel... like there is something wrong with my face," Lucian murmured uncertainly. He couldn't explain the feeling exactly, but he was certain that something was off. His mind drifted back to the memory—the black shadow obscuring his face and the strange, unsettling sensation that came with it.
Ivan let out a long, weary sigh. "You always tend to overthink things like this, Young Master..." he said softly but firmly, trying to calm him down and reassure him that his face was perfectly fine.
"Overall, your face isn't strange at all! Your eyes are as beautiful as sparkling rubies gleaming under the moonlight. Your white hair looks so incredibly smooth. And your complexion is flawless, like the finest porcelain—soft and pure, just like fresh milk. So please, stop thinking like that anymore!" He tried to offer him genuine praise, doing his best to convince Lucian that he was truly handsome and that there was absolutely nothing wrong with his face.
"Truly, I am grateful that you allow me to see your face."
However, Ivan's words seemed to vanish into thin air. To Lucian, the voice sounded distant and faint, like an echo from another world. He could see Ivan's lips moving, could see the caring expression on his face, but the words refused to reach his ears.
It felt as though an invisible barrier blocked them out, preventing him from accepting the praise and comfort. Only one voice rang clear in his mind—a cold, piercing voice coming from within himself, repeating the same damning words over and over: "Your face is a mistake. Do not show it to anyone ever again."
"Wh... what is happening...?" Lucian whispered, his voice barely audible. He curled up in fear, feeling that familiar pain and despair washing over him again. He tried to resist the voice, tried to push the memories away, but he was powerless against them.
The voice was too strong, too real, too painful. He felt trapped in a vicious cycle, caught in an endless loop of horrifying memories. He wanted to scream, he wanted to call for help, but he couldn't. He could only curl up in the darkness, waiting for it to be over.
"Young Master...!" Ivan called out, his voice filled with panic. But to Lucian, it sounded like nothing more than wind whispering in the distance. The world around him went silent, occupied solely by the terrifying voices from his past.
"Young Master...!!" Ivan tried again, this time louder and more desperate. He gently shook Lucian's shoulders, trying to bring him back to reality. But Lucian didn't react. He was still trapped, imprisoned within his own mind, isolated from everything outside.
It was only when Ivan called out much louder that Lucian finally snapped back. "Eh?" He jolted awake, feeling a vibration run through his body and feeling Ivan's hands on his arms.
"Young Master... are you alright?" Ivan asked anxiously, his voice soft but firm. Seeing Lucian looking so pale and exhausted made him realize that something was definitely wrong.
Ivan looked at him with worry, seeing the exhaustion and despair etched clearly on his master's face. He had momentarily forgotten just how sensitive this topic was for Lucian.
"Very well then. I apologize, Young Master," Ivan said gently and understandingly, bowing slightly to show his respect and care.
"In that case, I shall take my leave." He turned and walked toward the door, leaving Lucian alone.
However, he didn't leave immediately. He stood just outside the door, lingering for a moment to make sure Lucian was truly okay before departing.
Ivan let out another long sigh, heavy with regret.
"Hah, I got too carried away," he muttered to himself, his voice almost inaudible.
"I knew perfectly well how sensitive this topic is for him. I just got so excited that he actually asked me about it," he continued, staring at the closed door with eyes full of remorse.
"I hope he doesn't end up hating himself because of me," he whispered, afraid that his words might have caused more harm than good. He felt guilty for being too enthusiastic and possibly hurting Lucian unintentionally. Then, memories of the past came rushing back to haunt him.
×××
Eighteen years ago...
Ivan, who was then twenty-eight years old, stood tense before the Head of the Witte family, Lucian's father—a man who was only twenty-five at the time. They were in a large, grand room that felt cold and oppressive, furnished with expensive antiques that looked gloomy under the dim lighting. The air was thick with unbearable tension.
"My Lord, this is outrageous! How could you do such a thing to the Second Young Master?" Ivan protested, his voice trembling with suppressed anger and deep concern.
"You haven't even given him a proper name yet!" he added, his voice filled with indignation. He felt it was incredibly unfair that Lucian, such a young child, had to bear the weight of a mistake he never made.
"Aurelia left me because of that child. And look at him ... his features are nothing like mine or hers," the Head of the Witte family said quietly, his voice heavy with hidden grief and regret. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, revealing the depth of the pain in his heart.
"I could have forgiven her if she had simply cheated on me. But instead, she left me like this... choosing to give birth to that child instead?" he continued, his voice shaking as he struggled desperately to hold back his emotions and tears.
"My Lord! Miss Aurellia was loyal to you! There is no way she would have turned her cheating on you, not after sacrificing her own life just to bring the Second Young Master into this world!" Ivan snapped, his voice filled with fury and sorrow.
"Ivan, since I consider you a friend, it seems you are forgetting your place," the Head said coldly, his tone turning sharp and authoritative. He glared at Ivan, making it clear that he would not tolerate such insolence.
"Let the maids raise him. Allowing him to stay in this mansion and granting him the Witte name—all of this is solely because he is Aurelia's son. That is already more kindness than he deserves," he added arrogantly. He truly believed that merely permitting Lucian to live under the same roof was an act of generosity, completely oblivious to how cruel his treatment was.
"Fortunately, I already have Cassian as my heir," the Head stated in a flat, emotionless voice. He seemed indifferent to Lucian's fate, viewing him merely as a burden to be tolerated. He stood up from his chair, signaling that the conversation was over.
Ivan fell silent, feeling a surge of anger and helplessness rise within his chest. He knew he could not change the man's mind. Frustrated and heartbroken, he realized there was little he could do but hope that one day, Lucian would find his own happiness.
"I apologize for my disrespect, My Lord," Ivan said calmly and respectfully, lowering his head slightly. He didn't want to make the situation worse. He had to accept the decision, even if he didn't agree with it.
"Then, I shall take my leave," he said, turning to leave the room with heavy steps. He felt sad and disappointed, but he knew he had to move forward. He made a silent promise to himself that he would always watch over Lucian and be there for him.
"If the Second Young Master grows up treated like that... he will never smile at me the way he did as a baby, My Lord," Ivan said quietly but firmly. He looked the Head of the family directly in the eye, his gaze sharp and meaningful. It wasn't just a statement; it was a hidden challenge. The image of baby Lucian smiling sweetly at him was still vivid in his memory.