Seoul, 3:17 A.M. – Equinox's Private Studio
Yul sat cross-legged on the polished wood floor, candlelight flickering across his flawless, ethereal features. The city outside hummed like a living organism, but inside, the room was silent—except for the quiet pulse of a music track looping softly in the background.
He closed his eyes, letting the lingering energy from Monarch's performance wash over him. Something had shifted—not just in the world, but inside him. The golden-blood inside pulsed with memories long buried, like a river breaking through a dam.
And then he saw it.
A fragment of the past.
The studio walls melted, and Yul found himself standing in the marble halls of a castle long burned to ash, the chandeliers swinging overhead as though time itself trembled. A man emerged from the shadows—tall, imposing, cloaked in black leather armor that had once gleamed, his face scarred and familiar.
Yul's heart skipped.
It was Kaelen, the hunter who had cornered him centuries ago, the one who had nearly ended him after the first "love" he had allowed himself to feel. The boy with silver eyes—no, the man he had feared and never wanted to see again.
Kaelen's gaze burned into him. Cold. Sharp. Accusing.
"You survived," Kaelen said, voice low, like steel scraping stone. "I thought you were gone. Thought the fire finally claimed you."
Yul's golden eyes flickered with anger and something deeper—fear, yes, but also an unbidden longing to understand why he had been hunted in the first place.
"I survived," Yul whispered back, stepping forward, the glow of his aura spreading like molten gold across the hall. "I always survive."
Kaelen smiled—not kind, not warm, but a predator's smile. "Always? Or just until someone gets in your way?"
Yul's chest tightened. Memories of that night flooded back—the masquerade hall, the boy with silver eyes, the betrayal, the fire, the screams. The powerlessness he had felt, the guilt he carried for what had happened afterward.
And now Kaelen was here. In this memory, in this vision—or was he real? Yul couldn't tell. But the sensation of fear, that old, sharp, clawing fear, it returned as if no time had passed.
"Why are you here?" Yul asked, voice steady but low, the words almost swallowed by the weight of the past.
Kaelen's shadowed form leaned closer. "To remind you. To make sure you never forget who you are. Who you were. And what you lost."
Yul felt something stir in his chest—a mixture of defiance and yearning. He could taste the memory like copper on his tongue, feel it in his bones. And yet… he didn't flinch. Not this time. Not after centuries of learning to control the fear, to weaponize it.
Instead, he stepped forward until the distance between them was almost imperceptible, his golden eyes glowing brighter than ever.
"I remember everything," he said softly. "And I'm still here. Stronger than you ever imagined."
Kaelen's smile faltered, just slightly, but the tension was far from broken. The air between them crackled with energy—fear, power, history, and a subtle undercurrent of unresolved emotion that neither had anticipated.
And then, as quickly as he had appeared, Kaelen's form began to dissolve into smoke, leaving only the echo of his words and the lingering pulse of memories.
Yul sank to the floor, hands braced against the wood, chest heaving. The candlelight flickered violently, shadows stretching across the studio walls. He didn't speak. He didn't move.
All he could do was feel the past claw at him, a reminder of the hunter he had once feared, the boy he had loved, and the war that had never truly ended.
Outside, Seoul slept, oblivious to the storm raging in Yul's mind—and the faint, lingering hum of golden blood awakening, calling him forward.