Lucius stepped out of the bathroom, slightly drenched yet composed, every inch the picture of effortless elegance—despite having just spent an eternity inside.
"I need a reset button," he muttered, adjusting the cufflinks on his sleeves.
Standing tall, he strode toward the ballroom, his movements quick and precise.
Then, a flash of his sister's image crossed his mind.
His body reacted before his thoughts could catch up.
He froze mid-step, his jaw tightening.
A low groan escaped him.
"I am not going back to that bathroom," he declared coldly.
He exhaled sharply, then picked up his pace.
He had left his sister unattended.
He just hoped that wasn't a mistake.
Lucius entered through the golden arch, his fingers effortlessly plucking a glass of wine from a passing waiter.
He barely glanced at it as he walked, only pausing when the deep crimson liquid caught his eye.
"Should I?" he murmured, brows furrowing.
He swirled the glass, watching the way the light caught in the wine's depths.
"Is this even safe? It doesn't have the best reputation."
Then—
An intrusive thought.
His grip tightened, his pupils dilating. The tips of his ears burned red.
Without another second of hesitation, he tilted his head back and downed the entire glass.
The sharp burn spread through his throat, yet he exhaled like it had been relief.
Panting lightly, he dragged his tongue over his lips, savoring the taste.
"More."
This time, Lucius snatched another glass of wine from a passing waiter, startling the poor man.
Without a second thought, he downed it.
The burn hit instantly. He coughed, his chest tightening, yet the warmth spread through him like a slow poison.
His vision blurred—just slightly. His usually clear eyes lost their sharpness, and a faint flush dusted his pale skin.
Unfocused, he blinked forward.
"Y... Y-Your Highness," the waiter stammered. "Would you like another?"
Lucius paused. His head tilted ever so slightly, a slow, unreadable smile stretching across his lips.
"...No, thank you. I appreciate the consideration."
Then, without hesitation, he strode ahead.
His thoughts were a mess, his mind clouded—but his body moved with practiced elegance, leading him straight to the source of the commotion.
The center of attention.
The one thing he couldn't look away from.
HIS SISTER—smiling, laughing, touching—
With another man.
She hadn't even smiled when she danced with him.
Outwardly, he was composed. A polite, effortless mask.
He plucked a wine glass from a passing tray, lifting it to his lips.
Then—pain.
His fingers throbbed. Something warm dripped down his palm.
Lucius blinked, lowering his hand.
The delicate glass lay shattered in his grip, shards biting into his flesh.
Dark red streaked between his fingers, indistinguishable from the wine.
"Where are my manners? I'm being wasteful."
A smile tugged at his lips, head tilting slightly.
His gaze flickered back to the dance floor.
Take her. Claim her. She's yours.
Somewhere deep inside, Little Lucius howled and raged.
But Lucius only watched in silence, hands neatly folded behind his back, ignoring the slow trickle of blood down his wrist.
Then, his gaze settled on the man she was dancing with.
And something inside him broke.
Prince Alastor.
The words replayed in his mind like a curse.
"Prince Lucius, I regret to inform you that I will formally propose to your sister."
"Why regret, Prince Alastor?"
"Because I plan on pestering your family. I'm just warning you beforehand."
Lucius scoffed under his breath, his piercing gaze locking onto the oblivious prince.
He'll steal her. You'll be left with nothing.
Little Lucius shrieked, a silent tantrum.
But Lucius was quiet. Thoughtful.
Then, low and dark, the words curled from his lips like a promise:
"We want her. YOU want her. She's already yours. So there's nothing wrong with taking what is ours."
His fingers twitched.
His pupils dilated.
His world narrowed.
"Mine."
And with that, every last inhibition shattered—
His body moved on instinct.
Striding straight toward them.
***
Alexia's smile faltered. She paused as a shadow loomed over her and Alastor.
A familiar presence. Heavy. Overwhelming.
"Greetings, Prince Lucius."
Alastor's voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. A challenge.
Alexia's breath hitched. Lucius?
Slowly, she stepped back—only for her wrist to be caught in an iron grip. Pain shot up her arm.
Lucius turned his gaze to Alastor, his expression warm. Almost gentle.
"Forgive my intrusion," he said smoothly. "But I have to tell my sister something. She shouldn't be speaking with a dead man."
Before Alastor could react, Lucius turned, dragging Alexia with him.
She struggled. Hard. But his grip didn't loosen.
Alastor remained still, watching their retreating figures. His fingers twitched.
Dead man?
The words echoed in his mind, cold and final.
His instincts screamed at him to chase after them.
But he forced himself to remain rooted in place. He was representing Terra. He couldn't afford reckless offense.
His jaw tightened. His fists clenched.
Then, inhaling deeply, a slow, sharp smile curved his lips.
"This isn't the end."
****
Lucius' grip tightened with every struggle, every hit.
"Lucius! Why are you doing this?"
He paused.
"Because you are mine to protect." His voice was steady, deliberate. "Mine to value. Mine to cherish. Mine to..."
His tone grew warmer—yet far more sinister.
Alexia's breath caught.
Then—
"Claim."
The word left his lips like a vow, like something inevitable.
Her eyes widened. Before she could react, he slammed her against the wall, the impact stealing the air from her lungs.
Trapped.
Her wrists were pinned above her head, his body looming over hers.
CLAIM HER.
NO ONE ELSE CAN TAKE HER IF YOU MARK HER.
IRREVERSIBLE.
Lucius inhaled sharply, his pupils dilating.
"Forever," he whispered, almost to himself, his fingers trailing lightly down her face.
His body burned, and this time, he didn't suppress it.
He let the heat consume him—his thoughts, his rationality, everything.
Then, without hesitation, he licked her.
A slow, deliberate drag of his tongue across her cheek—down to her neck. Biting. Flicking. Claiming.
CLAIM HER.
He leaned in to kiss her—
She flinched.
Recoiling like he was something to fear.
Something to hate.
No.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
Lucius froze.
His body trembled—violent, uncontrollable, a barely restrained seizure of want and restraint. Yet still, he refused to let her go.
CLAIM HER.
Lex will hate me.
SHE WON'T BE ABLE TO ESCAPE.
YOU CAN KEEP HER.
His breathing hitched.
He looked into her eyes—the way she stared at him now.
Like something monstrous.
Something loathsome.
Lucius exhaled shakily.
He has to stop.
But he didn't want to.
He wanted to have her. Taste her. Possess her.
He… needed her.
In more ways than one.
Heat coiled in his chest, searing through his veins. His gaze dropped to her lips.
YES.
IF YOU DON'T, SHE'LL ESCAPE AGAIN.
SHE'LL ABANDON YOU.
THE SIGNS ARE THERE.
SHE'LL UNDERSTAND LATER.
"She'll understand."
The words left his lips, fragile—cracking at the edges.
Then—he shook his head, frantic, desperate.
No.
She won't understand.
No one understands.
No one ever will.
A shaky breath. His body trembled.
No one should ever understand.
He took one last look at her before his lips found her neck.
YES.
His body burned. Unrelenting. Consuming.
THIS IS NOT ENOUGH.
YOU WANT MORE.
YOU NEED MORE.
His fingers traced the curves of her body—unbridled, unrestrained.
His lips moved lower. Desperate. Starved.
Until—
"Big brother."
He froze.
A single moment of clarity. A blade of ice slicing through fire.
Lucius trembled, his grip unsteady.
Then, voice hoarse, he whispered, "Inferno."
From the shadows, a black cat emerged. Golden eyes watching. Waiting.
"Take care of her."
His hands still bound her wrists as he lifted her—
And stepped to the window.
"Lucius!"
She struggled, panic lacing her voice.
But he only smiled.
"Don't worry," he murmured, his tone eerily soft. "I suspected something like this might happen."
He held her over the edge, wind whipping through the night.
"You'll land safely."
For a second, he just looked at her.
"Sister," he exhaled, pained. "I love you. I don't know how to explain it, or what kind of love it is."
The cold air pulled at him, stripped him bare. His mask slipped, revealing something raw. Unraveling.
"I vowed to protect you. So run."
Alexia didn't move. Didn't breathe.
She just watched him.
Lucius smiled.
"If I ever catch you..." His voice dropped, hushed and reverent.
"I will never let you go."
Then, slowly, his grip loosened.
Blood dripped from his lips.
"Goodbye, Sister."
And he let her fall.
[Congratulations, Host, for surviving until midnight.]
Above, fireworks burst into color.
A new day. A new dawn.
Watching Alexia free-fall, Lucius staggered backward.
Vulnerable. Unguarded. Blank.
But before the moment could settle—
Something crashed into him.
The impact sent him slamming into the wall.
And then—something soft collapsed on top of him.
A door creaked. Then shut.
A voice slurred through the dimly lit space.
"Husband, where are you?"
Lucius turned, his breath uneven.
Berlinda.
Drunk. Disoriented. Trapped too close in the small, suffocating space.
"Lex?" he murmured, staring at her.
His mind blurred. The face in front of him overlapped with the one in his memory.
No. That's not right.
His body burned again. Unrestrained. Unrelenting.
But instead of resisting—
He laughed.
A dark, choked sound.
Then, with slow, eerie ease, he pulled Berlinda closer.
"I warned you to run." His voice was a whisper. "But you came back."
His grip tightened. His breath ghosted against her lips.
"You can't blame me."
Berlinda blinked, dazed.
"Huh?"
She barely had time to react before Lucius flipped her.
Before his lips crashed into hers.
Possessive. Violent. Consuming.
She stiffened, letting out a muffled sound—"Husband?"
Lucius didn't let her speak.
CLAIM HER.
Lucius leaned in, his breath hot against her ear.
"I'll never let you go."
His grip tightened. His gaze, searing.
"Tonight, you are mine."
***
Elias moved from door to door, knocking.
Berlinda had been right there just a minute ago.
He'd only stepped away to clean his vomit-stained clothes—barely a moment. And now? Gone.
Maybe she went home?
…No. That woman was far too drunk for that.
Maybe she actually found her husband this time?
Elias exhaled sharply. Why did that feel so unlikely?
He stopped in front of a particular door.
The storage room.
No way.
Still, unease crept up his spine. Just to be sure, he raised a hand to knock—
Then hesitated.
Instead, he pressed his ear against the door.
And immediately yanked back, his face heating.
…Are they—?
Who even says that?
Okay. This was serious.
Leaning back, Elias strode off quickly, his face burning with secondhand embarrassment.
Then, as an afterthought, he shrugged.
Well… I guess she really did find her husband. He was real after all.