Lucian stepped into the pleasure house, and the scent of perfume and wine immediately filled his senses. The main hall was alive with movement: beautiful demon women glided across the floor, their horns gleaming under the candlelight, their tails swaying behind them as they laughed, whispered, and guided their guests upstairs. Their exotic dresses shimmered in deep reds and purples, cut to reveal more than they concealed.
Some lounged lazily on couches, gossiping with one another. Others clung to the arms of wealthy merchants, whispering sweet nothings as they led them away. It was a place of indulgence—exactly what one would expect of a demon-run establishment.
Lucian sighed inwardly and kept moving. Three women tried to intercept him before he could get far, their smiles promising trouble, but he skillfully dodged them and made his way up the stairs. On the second floor, he stopped at the fifth door, checked to make sure it was empty, and slipped inside.
He had only waited a few moments when soft hands suddenly covered his eyes from behind.
"Guess whooo?" a playful voice teased.
Lucian exhaled. "Lilia. I don't have time for this."
The hands dropped, and a demon woman stepped in front of him. She had long, silky black hair, crimson eyes that glowed faintly in the dim light, and two sharp horns that curved elegantly from her head. Her lips curled into a seductive smile.
"What's the rush, especially in front of someone like me?" she purred. "And here I was, so happy you came to see me."
"Correction," Lucian said flatly, "I came for information from you."
She pouted dramatically. "Rude."
"So? Do you have anything for me today?"
The pout vanished, replaced by that dangerous, playful grin he knew too well. "A pretty big one."
Lucian raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Let's hear it."
Instead of answering, she turned her head aside and began to whistle as though nothing had happened. Lucian sighed, pulled a pouch from his pocket, and tossed it at her. She caught it effortlessly, weighing the coins in her hand.
This better be worth it, he thought grimly.
"So?" he urged again.
"That's all?" Lilia asked, shaking the pouch in front of him. "How boring. I want you, not this."
"Nope. Not a chance."
"But you look tired," she cooed, stepping closer. "I could—"
"Don't push it." Lucian's voice was sharp enough to cut the air.
She huffed in disappointment, then straightened her posture and finally grew serious.
"Fine. Here's what I heard: your brother is trying to tug the human princess into marriage."
Silence stretched between them.
"You're surprised?" she asked, tilting her head.
Lucian gave her a flat look. "Are you kidding me? I'm his brother. Of course I know."
"O-Oh… well, what about this then? The human princess doesn't like your brother back!" She declared it as though she were unveiling a great secret.
Lucian pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm taking my coin back."
He stood and reached for the pouch, but Lilia hugged it tightly to her chest.
"Wait, wait! I have more!"
"No thanks. I'll come back in three days."
He extends his hand toward the pouch, but her next words froze him in place.
"What about the assassination plan?"
Lucian's hand froze. Slowly, he turned to face her again, his expression hardened.
"…What?"
She shifted uneasily under his stare. "Some men were talking… They're planning to assassinate a noble and blame it on a dwarf."
"Which noble?" Lucian demanded.
"I don't know," she admitted quickly. "He wasn't one of my clients."
Lucian let out a long breath. "Fine. I'll report this to the duke. I'm leaving."
He moved for the door, but felt a tug at his sleeve. Lilia looked up at him with pitiful eyes.
"Already? You could at least spend some—"
"No thanks," he cut her off firmly, pulling free. "I'm leaving."
He walked out without looking back, descended the stairs, and left the pleasure house behind. The night air felt cleaner the moment he stepped outside.
His carriage waited at the gate, and soon enough he was on the road again, knights riding close behind. The trip back to the Merrick estate was uneventful, but his thoughts lingered on the assassination. Whoever the target was, things could spiral quickly if the plot succeeded.
When he arrived, he went straight to his father's office and reported everything he had gathered that day: Derek's words about discrimination, Elaida's complaints about the prayer ground, and now the whisper of assassination.
The duke listened quietly. His only response was short and cold:
"I will take care of it."
And that was the end of the matter.
Lucian knew better than to press for details. He held no real power in these affairs. His role was only to gather, not to act. Still, a small part of him wished he could do more than play the errand boy of his family.
He left the office, returned to his chambers, and decided to wash away the day with a hot bath before dinner. But when he entered his room, he immediately noticed something unusual.
On the small table beside his bed sat an envelope.
Lucian paused. Slowly, he approached and picked it up.
"Who even put this here?" he muttered aloud.
The paper was plain, sealed only with wax. No crest, no mark. Suspicious. Carefully, he broke the seal, unfolded the letter, and frowned at the messy scrawl inside. The handwriting was hurried, almost desperate, but still legible.
Should I even bother reading this?
He sighed and sat down on the edge of his bed, deciding to humor it. If nothing else, maybe it contained some complaint or request relevant to his work.
He began to read.
"I have no idea who will read this, but you must help me. I have done everything I can just to send this letter. Tomorrow, the academy will prepare for an expedition to the elven kingdom—while they are locked in battle with the dwarves."
Lucian's eyes narrowed in confusion.
"Elves and dwarves…? And an academy expedition?" He muttered aloud. "That was… almost a decade ago."
Still, he continued.
"While the kingdom sees this as an opportunity, I see it as suicide. We will be caught between two forces. I cannot imagine the casualties that will follow."
The words triggered something deep in his memory. That expedition. The one from ten years ago. He remembered clearly—he had been in his second year at the academy when he was sent on that very mission.
And the result? Catastrophe.
Dozens, no, hundreds died in the crossfire. The war between elves and dwarves spilled over them like a tidal wave. It was one of the darkest chapters of his life.
The letter continued:
"We have promising talents, but in this situation? I'm not sure. Her Highness Seraphine is leading the expedition, of course, with her companions. Marcus is too soft. Evelyn too emotional. And Irena… she'll faint the moment she sees blood. Im not sure whether Robert and Tess could even keep up."
Lucian froze as he read the names. Marcus. Evelyn. Irena. Robert. Tess. All of them. All dead before the war's end. Before the peace treaty established .
He swallowed hard, his chest tightening. Their deaths had struck him deeply, even if he had been nothing more than a useless tagalong in their eyes. He had admired them, followed them, even shared in their laughter. They had accepted him despite his lack of talent.
And Tess… Tess had been his first love. His crush. She had never looked at him that way, but he had cared for her all the same.
His hands trembled slightly as he kept reading.
"So please, guide me across time. Tell me what to do. This is my last effort. I don't know if anyone will ever read this from the future, but if you can… write on the back of this letter, and I will receive it immediately. Thank you."
Lucian sat there in silence, staring at the paper.
"…Guide you across time?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "Nonsense."
He crumpled the letter in his hand and tossed it into the wastebasket in the corner of the room. The room fell quiet, but his mind churned.
Memories of the war. Memories of the expedition. Memories of his friends who never returned.
I shouldn't have read it. Damn it.
It had to be a prank. Probably Elaine's doing, after her tantrum at breakfast. Who else would leave something so ridiculous in his chamber?
Deciding not to waste another thought on it, Lucian pushed the matter aside and focused on his evening. Dinner. Sleep. Tomorrow would be another ordinary day.
Just like always.