I woke up in my real world with a strange softness in my chest.
A quiet sadness lingered—for Lucian.
He was a demon… yet he had been so well-behaved, so controlled, the entire time. The thought stayed with me as I brushed my teeth, staring at my reflection, lost somewhere between worlds.
For just a heartbeat, my reflection seemed to hold my gaze a little longer than it should have.
During breakfast, my mood slowly lifted.
French food on the plate, warm and rich, and the thought of the money made me smile—€9,500 + €9,500.
The numbers felt real… solid… grounding.
For the first time in a long while, I felt light. Happy. 😁
I can spend on good things now… live well.
"Alright," I whispered to myself. "Let's get ready for work."
I dressed neatly—simple, classy clothes—and headed to my part-time job at a small café.
A soft, warm breeze brushed past me on the way, lingering for a second before disappearing into the ordinary morning air.
The owner was an older French woman, about fifty, with sharp eyes but a calm presence.
Madame Claire, the owner, introduced me to the team.
There were only four of us in total.
She showed me how everything worked, her voice firm but not unkind.
Then I met the others.
Élise, around thirty, worked with coffee and pastries.
She was beautiful—elegant, clearly a foreign woman, moving with confidence behind the counter.
At the cashier stood Arian, twenty-four.
Handsome. Sharp features. Striking blue eyes that caught attention without trying.
For the briefest moment, as he looked at me, I felt something shift in the air—so faint I almost imagined it.
They both smiled.
"Hello," they said.
"Hello," I replied softly.
It was my first day, and I promised myself silently, I'll give my best.
Everyone was helpful—more than I expected. Their kindness wrapped around me like comfort, easing the tightness in my chest.
Élise taught me how to make coffee.
The steam from the machine curled upward in slow spirals, almost forming shapes before fading back into nothing.
Between orders, I stood near her, observing how she shaped the pastries, her hands quick and confident.
I also paid attention to how Arian worked at the cashier—
the way he spoke to customers, calm and efficient, fingers moving fast over the register, his sharp blue eyes always alert.
Soon, the café filled up.
Customers kept coming, one after another. The workload doubled—maybe tripled.
With only four of us, there was no single role anymore. I moved everywhere—taking orders, carrying trays, helping with coffee, cleaning tables. My feet ached, but I didn't slow down.
During a rare moment of calm, when the rush finally eased, Arian asked for a short break.
The three of us slipped into small talk without even realizing it.
Simple things. Easy laughter.
Élise joked about how customers always changed their minds after ordering.
I laughed, nodding, already understanding what she meant.
Arian shared how he once mixed up two orders on his first day and nearly panicked.
We laughed louder at that, the sound filling the café like music.
For just a second, the warmth in my chest returned—quiet, steady—like a distant presence listening.
I added a few thoughts of my own—nothing deep, just little moments, little observations.
It felt comfortable. Effortless.
For a while, there was no past, no other world—
just pastries, warm coffee, soft laughter, and people sharing a quiet moment between rushes.
After the break, we returned to work.
The café slowly found its rhythm again—orders, voices, cups, movement.
As evening settled in, one by one, people began to leave.
Élise finished her shift and waved goodbye.
Arian left soon after, offering a casual smile as he passed.
Finally, it was my turn.
I stepped out and headed home, my body exhausted—my feet sore, my shoulders heavy.
After reaching home, a deep sense of satisfaction settled into me.
I smiled to myself.
I'm building my empire.
Step by step. On my own terms.
I felt happy. Truly.
I took a long shower, letting the day wash away.
Then I curled up and watched a series, mind relaxed, body finally at ease.
Later, I cooked dinner just for myself.
wore a deep wine-colored dress, knee-length, fitted neatly at the waist.
The fabric was soft, the cut clean—beautiful.
.After reaching home, a deep sense of satisfaction settled into me.
I smiled to myself.
I'm building my empire.
Step by step. On my own terms.
I felt happy. Truly.
I took a long shower, letting the day wash away, water running warm over my shoulders as if rinsing off exhaustion, doubt, even memory.
Then I curled up and watched a series, my mind relaxed, my body finally at ease.
Later, I cooked dinner just for myself.
I wore a deep wine-colored dress, knee-length, fitted neatly at the waist..The fabric was soft, the cut clean—beautiful.
I slept, and as always, I visited the demon office.
I completed the formalities at the gate and walked down the corridor toward the cabin.
I was in a good mood today, light-hearted, and without thinking too much, I called Alexander.
"Hello," I said.
"Hey, Cristina. Everything alright?" Alexander asked.
"Yes," I replied softly. "Don't worry. I just wanted to share something."
"Oh?" he said. "What is it?"
"I got a part-time job," I said. "And I'm doing well with my money too."
"That's good to hear," Alexander said, a small smile in his voice. "All the best. Are you happy?"
"Yes," I said without hesitation. "I am."
"Great," Alexander said. Then, after a pause, "I wish I could say this to you in person… wish you properly. But I guess I can't."
I smiled to myself. "Well, I can take permission from Lucian."
There was a brief silence.
"Really?" Alexander asked. "That would be fine—if you can get it."
"Where do you work?" I asked casually, my footsteps echoing softly through the long corridor.
"I'm not supposed to say," he said.
I laughed softly. "Really?"
"It's just that I work alone here," Alexander explained.
"So you don't report to anyone?" I asked.
"Yes," he replied. "I can't explain it right now. When you come, I'll tell you. Okay?"
"Okay," I said. "I'll make sure I get permission."
The call ended.....
I was absorbed in my work when the gate opened.
A quiet shift in the air. Slow. Controlled.
The weight of his presence settled into the room, familiar and controlled. Lucian had arrived.
When I glanced up, I kept my eyes lowered—only his half-visible form entered my view. The line of his shoulders. The stillness of his stance. The way he paused just inside the room, as though something had held him there.
"Hey, Cristina," he said.
"Hey, Lucian," I replied evenly, my attention returning to the documents in front of me.
He didn't move right away. I was aware of him standing there, unmoving.
Then his voice came again, quieter than before.
"You look beautiful."
There was a brief pause. I sensed the restraint in him before he added, almost dismissively, "You always do. I just… never mind."
Lucian moved past me and took his seat behind the desk. I heard the chair shift as he settled in. A moment later, papers rustled—the familiar sound of work began again. He tried to occupy himself, to return to order.
"You look happy today," he said without looking up.
"Yes," I replied. "I started working part-time at a café. I'm also saving money to buy a home… and maybe own a café one day."
There was a brief pause. I felt it before he spoke.
"You will, Cristina Smith. I promise," Lucian said quietly. "I want you to live your life. Happy."
The way he said it was so calm that I felt it more than I heard it.
"Hmm…" I replied softly.
I couldn't fully control my emotions. My pen slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor.
I bent down to pick it up—almost as if I needed an excuse. As if lowering my gaze would help me ignore the weight of that moment… because I couldn't face it.
At the same time, Lucian's hand moved—swift, precise—bracing against the edge of the desk so I wouldn't bump my head as he leaned forward slightly.
I picked up the pen...
When I straightened, I kept my gaze lowered—careful, always careful.
I couldn't see his face, but I noticed the shift in his posture. His shoulders had angled slightly away from me. His upper body had turned just enough so that his gaze could not fall directly on mine.
It was subtle.
Deliberate.
As if he were making sure that—even accidentally—I would not look at him.
A small crease formed in my thoughts.
Why?
It would benefit him if I looked at him. One direct gaze. One unguarded second. And he could take my soul.
"I don't understand," I said quietly.
The papers in his hands stilled.
"Lucian."
He looked up slowly.
"Yes, Cristina."
"Why are you avoiding me?"
A faint crease appeared between his brows. "Avoiding you?"
"You turned away," I said. "You made sure I wouldn't see your face."
A pause. Long enough to feel deliberate.
"You're reading too much into posture."
"Am I?" My grip tightened around the pen. "Then why did you tell me to close my eyes that day?"
Something unreadable crossed his expression.
"You work under my authority," he said. "There are boundaries."
"That didn't stop you before." My voice lowered. "The last employee looked at you. And you took his soul."
The air in the room grew heavier.
His jaw shifted slightly.
"So why not me?" I asked.
Silence.
Not empty. Charged.
When he spoke, his voice had lost none of its control.
"I don't want yours."
The words were quiet. Precise.
His hand came down on the desk.
Not violently. Not emotionally.
Decisively.
"That is not your concern," he said. "You are here to work. Do not mistake tolerance for permission."
His gaze hardened—not wild, but warning.
"I told you before. Do not dig."
"Fine."
I straightened.
"I'd like to meet Alexander," I said evenly. "Or is that outside my limits too, Mr. Ravenswood?"
A flicker. Barely there.
"You may," he replied. Smooth again. Controlled. "Miss Smith—"
I turned before he could finish..
Scene shift to Lucian ravenswood
After Cristina left the cabin, I remained seated.
My breathing was steady, measured. I let the anger settle rather than act on it.
It was not rage.
It was restraint.
Why, Cristina?
Why do you never listen? Why do you refuse to fear me? Why do you insist on making this harder than it needs to be?
My jaw tightened as I leaned back in my chair, my gaze fixed on the closed door she had walked through moments ago.
The silence did not last.
A familiar presence brushed against my mind—intrusive, unwelcome.
David.
The gate demon had never required doors.
"You look troubled, Lucian," David's voice echoed through my thoughts, dry amusement woven into every word. "Women never listen. Human or demon world… they are all the same." A low, mocking chuckle followed.
"Do not laugh," I replied inwardly, my tone colder than before.
The sound faded, though the amusement lingered, settling around me like a shadow.
David did not withdraw. His presence pressed against my mind, smooth and unyielding.
"I know her," he continued, voice calm but deliberate. "Every time she scans her card at the gate, I see her face. It tells more than she realizes."
A deliberate pause hung between us, heavy with unspoken warning.
"You should never have chosen to work so closely with a human woman," David said, his tone sharp, almost harsh. "I warned you. But you said it didn't matter."
"And now look," David continued, quiet amusement threading through his voice. "She does not fear you at all
A brief pause.
"Not even me. She speaks to me as if I am nothing more than a gatekeeper. As if I am… ordinary."
The insult lingered in the air.
"She deals with us like we are normal people, Lucian."
"Enough, David," I replied, my voice sharp even within the confines of my mind.
David's voice darkened.
"You have to stop her, Lucian. If she keeps stepping closer…" He paused deliberately. "You know what happens."
The unspoken consequences hung heavily between us.
"I know," I replied.
A brief silence followed.
"Then deal with it," David said at last, the amusement gone from his tone. "Before someone else does."
Bye lucian ..... ... ... . . .