I stepped into his mansion and immediately froze.
Voices.
Soft laughter.
Crystal glasses clinking.
Victor was in the living hall, surrounded by guests — well-dressed, polished, talking business and politics like it was a daily ritual.
So many people.
At 9 p.m.
Does he ever rest?
Does Lucien's uncle survive on conversations and wine?
I was so lost in those thoughts that I didn't even hear Lucien calling my name.
"Nyx."
I blinked.
"Huh—"
Victor finally noticed us and excused himself from his circle, walking over with that effortless host smile.
"Well," he said to Lucien, "you didn't inform me we'd have a guest this late."
Lucien didn't hesitate.
"Oh. She's my guest."
Flat. Final.
Victor looked at me briefly, nodded politely."Enjoy your evening."
Before Victor could say another word, Lucien took my hand and pulled me away.
Just like that.
No explanations.
No introductions.
His fingers wrapped around mine firmly, guiding me through the hallway.
He led me straight to his room.
I hesitated at the doorway.
Isn't this… weird?
I almost said it out loud.
Instead, I swallowed the thought.
I changed the topic.
"You left your uncle standing there."
He shut the door behind us.
"Forget it," he said. "I'm tired of him introducing me to his new guests every single day. I spared myself today."
Then, quieter—
"I'm with you."
I only hummed in response.
He took me to his study.
Calling it a "study room" felt criminal.
It was enormous.
More like an exhibition hall.
Tall shelves lined the walls, soft lighting illuminated fabric displays, mirrors stood between racks of gowns. Everything smelled faintly of cedarwood and expensive perfume.
I stopped in my tracks.
Rows.
Rows of ballroom gowns.
Carefully arranged by color and design.
Lucien started explaining something about designers and imported fabrics, but his voice faded into background noise.
My eyes were already moving.
And then I saw it.
In the corner.
A gothic gown.
Wine-red accents woven through deep black fabric. Spider lily designs curled along the bodice and sleeves like living shadows.
My feet carried me there before my mind caught up.
I reached out, fingers hovering over the fabric.
Lucien went quiet.
He turned.
Noticed I wasn't beside him anymore.
He walked over slowly.
"I knew you'd go for that one."
I looked at him.
He continued, softer now.
"It's from my private collection."
I didn't respond.
He lifted the hanger slightly.
"I brought it in last month. Didn't know why. Just felt like I should."
Then, after a pause—
"Let me show you mine."
He gestured toward the doorway.
A maid entered — dressed differently from the others. Head maid, probably.
She carried an outfit carefully wrapped.
When she revealed it, my breath caught.
A black tailored coat with wine-red leather lining.
A crimson corset layered beneath an elite white shirt.
Perfectly cut trousers.
Elegant.
Dark.
It looked like something straight out of a gothic legend — western royalty meets 90s vampire aesthetic.
I imagined him wearing it.
The image stayed.
Lucien noticed my stare.
"That matches your gown."
I nodded.
"It suits you."
He held my gaze for a second longer than necessary.
Then turned to the maid."Arrange everything."
She bowed and left.
Lucien brought me back to his room.
"Sit," he said. "I'll get coffee."
I sat on the edge of his couch, hands folded, absorbing the quiet.
His room was minimal.
No clutter.
No unnecessary decor.
Everything had purpose.
After a few minutes, a maid entered with coffee and handed it to me.
She stayed silent until I spoke.
"Where's Lucien?"
"He's downstairs, ma'am. With Lord Victor."
I nodded.
She turned to leave.
Then stopped.
"Ma'am… may I ask something?"
I hesitated."Go ahead."
Her voice lowered.
"Are you Lord Lucien's girlfriend?"
"No," I said. "Why?"
She looked genuinely confused.
"Because, ma'am… he doesn't allow anyone into his room or study without permission."
I stayed quiet.
She continued.
"We need his approval even to clean. Guests aren't allowed here."
I took a slow breath.
"He probably made an exception. I'm his friend."
She tilted her head.
"Ma'am… even Lord Elias isn't allowed inside."
That landed harder than it should have.
She hesitated, then spoke again.
"Last week Lord Victor's cousin asked to see his room. He refused directly. Even today, he personally permitted me to bring your coffee. Otherwise I would've had to leave it outside."
I didn't know what to say.
She gave a small bow.
Then added softly—
"After all this… you still think you aren't special?"
And she left.
I sat there alone.
Coffee untouched.
Her words replaying in my mind.
He doesn't allow anyone.
Not even Elias.
Then why me?
I stared at the floor.
At the quiet walls.
At the closed door.
And for the first time in a long while…
I found myself seeking answers from silence.