The mansion was quiet that morning, its endless hallways bathed in golden light that filtered through tall glass windows. Fresh from the shower, Grayson's hair still faintly damp, he had chosen something simple yet sharp—black slacks with a crisp white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled halfway to his forearms. His presence, even dressed down, carried the sharp grace of someone who owned every shadow he walked through.
He adjusted his cuff absently as he strolled past one of the smaller wings of the estate, where staff usually busied themselves with the morning's duties. His expression, as always, was unreadable, silver-grey eyes like still water—reflecting nothing, betraying nothing.
It was there, rounding the corner of the corridor lined with tall arched windows, that he found Rose. She was bent slightly forward, carefully arranging a fresh vase of lilies on a polished oak side table. Her simple maid attire was spotless, her blonde hair tied neatly back, a small lock escaping to frame her delicate face. Her lively blue eyes sparkled, betraying her surprise and quiet relief at seeing him.
"Master Grayson," she said quickly, straightening herself, her hands still clutching the vase as if it shielded her from him.
Grayson allowed a small smile to play at his lips, just a ghost of one, but it was enough to flush her cheeks a delicate pink. For a brief moment, the air between them shifted—light, warm, unspoken.
And then—
"There you are."
A silken voice slid through the air before Rose could exhale. Alora appeared from behind, her movements smooth and deliberate, her dark crimson hair flowing freely, her lively silver-grey eyes flashing with mischief and calculation. Her dark dress fell just above her knees, sandals tapping against the marble floor. Her expression was a mixture of playfulness and suspicion. In one smooth motion, she slipped her arms around Grayson's shoulders from behind, pressing close, her voice low and teasing against his ear.
"You're not avoiding me, are you?"
Grayson glanced over his shoulder at her, his faint smile untouched by her presence, his silver-grey eyes unreadable. "And why is that?" he replied evenly, his tone almost mocking, but quiet enough to sound casual.
Alora released him, stepping smoothly to his side. Her gaze, sharp and assessing, slid toward Rose. Suspicion danced in her eyes, narrowing with curiosity.
"And who is she to you?" Alora asked, her voice deceptively soft, her expression shadowed with something more dangerous.
Grayson chuckled under his breath, low and calm, his hands slipping into his pockets. "What—you're not jealous, are you?"
Alora's laugh cut sharp, dismissive, like silver against glass. "Me? Jealous of her?" She tilted her head, lips curving into something almost cruel. Without waiting for an answer, she strode toward Rose, her heels clicking with quiet authority.
Rose froze under that gaze. Even though Alora's tone carried no venom, the weight of who she was—heiress, cousin to Grayson, mistress of authority in the mansion—pressed down like an invisible chain. Her heartbeat quickened, her palms sweaty against the vase.
"You're Rose, right?" Alora's tone was almost friendly, but her eyes never softened. "I've been hearing your name around every block in this place…" She paused, deliberately, letting Rose feel the space between her words. "…so if you don't mind me asking…who's my cousin to you?"
Rose's chest tightened. She glanced very briefly at Grayson—one fleeting, desperate look for rescue—but he only stood where he was, watching, unreadable, his slight smile still lingering. Her eyes darted back to Alora.
"Um…" her voice faltered. "He's…he's my boss. That's all. I swear."
"Oh really?" Alora said smoothly, tilting her head, lips curling.
"Stop teasing her." Grayson's voice cut the tension—not sharp, but calm, dismissive, carrying authority. He took a step forward, his tone light. "She's just my favorite maid."
Both women turned toward him at once.
"What?! Her?" Alora exclaimed, eyebrows arching.
"I am?!" Rose blurted out, wide-eyed, clutching the vase tighter.
"And why is that?" Alora pressed, crossing her arms.
Grayson smirked, tilting his head with a mock-casual shrug. "Is it not obvious? She's the one that wakes me up for breakfast."
Rose's cheeks burned crimson. Alora, however, narrowed her eyes at him, her brows curling—she knew something in that answer was off. Still, after a beat, she sighed, exhaling her suspicion. "whatever"
She turned away from Rose, looping her arm back around Grayson's as if nothing had happened, and guided him forward down the hall. They walked together, Alora's head tilted toward him, but just before they disappeared from Rose's sight, Grayson glanced back over his shoulder. His lips curled into a knowing smirk, and with a slow, deliberate wink, he left her speechless in the hallway.
*********
Grayson's room smelled faintly of smoke and polished wood. Alora lounged lazily across his bed, hair spilling over the pillows, one arm resting above her head, the other tapping idly against the cover. Her dark crimson hair fell across her shoulders, her lively silver-grey eyes tracked him as he moved across the room, shrugging on a dark jacket over the same shirt, fingers tightening the cuffs.
"You're going somewhere?" she asked, curious.
Grayson nodded, his back half-turned to her as he adjusted the mirror. "Going to finish this college stuff....and also, college entrance exams are today."
Alora arched a brow. "By the way…what made you change your mind about going to college?"
Grayson chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets, his smirk reflecting in the glass. "I just want to see how it feels to be better than everyone."
Her brows rose higher. "So you're going to college just to show you're better than everyone?
Alora sat up on her elbows, eyes narrowing with disbelief. "well cousin....You've never been to school, and now you want to waltz into a college? Have you lost it?"
Grayson only chuckled again, sliding his watch onto his wrist. "Not mad. I know I can. And besides…" His silver-grey eyes flickered, distant for just a heartbeat. "…I have some old friends I want to meet there. So yeah. I'm going. Regardless of what I know or don't know."
Alora froze, blinking. Old friends. Her breath caught faintly, and for a moment, she could almost see someone else in his words. But she knew her cousin—if he said he was doing something, no force in this world could stop him. She exhaled sharply, conceding. "Fine. At least pay for the entrance exam instead of embarrassing yourself with your performance."
"Pay?" Grayson laughed, fastening the last button of his jacket. "I'm going to contend. And I'm going to pass."
His confidence was absolute, suffocating and annoying at the same time.
Alora shook her head. "You know what, just tell me which college you're starting from."
Grayson turned to her, smirk curling sharper, eyes glinting with cold excitement. His voice lowered, deliberate, as he uttered the name:
"Varnguard Academy."
The words rang heavy in the air, each syllable a brand, a weight that hung between them like the toll of a distant bell.
********
The towering gates of Varnguard Academy loomed above them, wrought iron twisting into elaborate, almost gothic designs, flanked by carved stone gargoyles that seemed to watch the crowds of applicants with silent, judgmental eyes. The morning sun spilled golden across the cobblestones, illuminating the throngs of students moving toward the entrance, their chatter and footsteps creating a restless symphony.
Ben Karana stood near the gates, tall and lean, green eyes scanning the crowd. His brown hair caught the sunlight, slightly messy, a strand brushing his forehead as he shifted weight from one foot to the other. His expression was calm but expectant, a mix of excitement and apprehension. Beside him, Lara's blonde hair shimmered in the sunlight, her lively blue eyes darting across the gates and the people passing through. Her posture was poised, elegant even, though the faintest tremor of curiosity and anxiety betrayed her outward composure. She wore a crisp white blouse tucked into dark trousers, a long, flowing scarf draped casually around her shoulders.
"So this was your choice?" Lara's voice broke through the murmur, soft yet teasing.
"Of course," Ben replied, a faint grin tugging at his lips. "I hear it's one of the best."
"It better be ,last ti____
The words stuck at her throat once he saw him.
Grayson walked to her side. Not through the gates, not as part of the crowd—he simply appeared beside her, as though the world had parted to make room. Every other movement and chatter fell away, leaving only him.
He was tall, lean, his form radiating effortless control. Dark hair, just long enough to fall slightly over his forehead, caught the sunlight, giving a faint golden halo at the tips. Silver-grey eyes locked onto Lara's, piercing yet calm, alive yet unreadable. His expression was serene, almost playful, yet carried a weight that made every other detail of the world seem insignificant.
His attire was simple but impeccable: black slacks, a white shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows, jacket open, unassuming yet perfect in its fit. Hands rested lightly in his pockets, movements precise, deliberate, every motion drawing attention without effort.
Lara's breath hitched. Her heart stuttered, a pulse skipping in sudden recognition she could not name. The sun, the gates, the distant chatter—all blurred into nothing. The world shrank around him, and for a moment, it seemed impossible to tell where he ended and the air of authority, calm, and presence began.
Grayson's faint smirk tugged at his lips as he inclined his head slightly toward her. "Hi," he said, voice smooth, calm, measured. "Nice to meet you. I'm Grayson."
Her eyes locked on him, frozen as she shook his hand, There was something in that smile—warmth just enough to feel human, distance just enough to make her ache. Recognition? Fascination? Her chest tightened as if it remembered a memory she hadn't lived yet, a pulse quickening from a connection she didn't dare define.
Ben turned just then, finishing a conversation with another applicant. His green eyes fell on the pair, narrowing for a heartbeat before he took a step closer. Grayson extended his right hand casually toward him. "Hi, I'm Grayson," he said, the same calm, unflinching confidence.
Ben studied him briefly, reading nothing but poise and subtle strength, then shook the hand firmly. "Hi, I'm Ben Karana. Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you, Ben," Grayson replied, eyes locking on his for a heartbeat longer than necessary. "I'm Grayson Bond…but all my friends call me Grayson."
There was an unspoken weight in the words, a resonance that neither Ben nor Lara could quite name, but it lingered, pressing against the air between them. A subtle gravity, something older, sharper, almost dangerous, yet entirely captivating.
Lara's gaze wavered between his eyes and his smile, her heartbeat wild. Even as she tried to steady herself, the memory of that first awe, that first feeling of something impossibly ethereal, washed over her again. She realized, almost painfully, that her pulse, her fascination, her sudden intake of breath—all of it was involuntary. It was him. Not a demon, not some apparition—yet entirely otherworldly, entirely unforgettable.
Grayson's gaze lingered on her just a fraction longer before he inclined his head politely, eyes flicking toward Ben, then back to Lara. The faint smirk remained, calm, confident, in total control, yet disarmingly approachable.
And with that, the introductions—so simple, so brief—left a heavy, silent impression. One name lingered in the space between them: Grayson.
It was more than a name. It was a declaration. A presence. A weight that would resonate far beyond this first encounter, echoing in hearts and minds without a word more.