Scene shift to Cristina
I walked slowly toward the entrance of the demon office, my steps unsteady, each movement heavier than the last. My body still carried the weakness from before—so much that even walking felt like an effort. The air around the place felt tense… almost aware of everything I had gone through.
David was already there.
The moment he saw me, his expression changed—concern replacing his usual calm. … the way I struggled, the way I held myself just to remain standing.
"Are you alright now?" he asked softly, his tone careful.
My breathing faltered again, uneven.
That was when he noticed it fully.
Without another word, he stepped closer and extended his hand.
"Take my hand."
It wasn't forceful. Just there… steady… offering support.
As I lifted my gaze—
I felt it.That presence.Lucian.
He was already watching me—I had felt it without looking as if he had been observing everything from the beginning. Then, without hesitation, he stepped forward slightly and extended his hand as well—silent… direct… expectant.
For a brief moment, everything stilled.
Then—
I made my choice.
I ignored Lucian's hand.
Instead, I placed mine in David's.
The shift was immediate. David's grip was gentle, steadying me without pulling, without rushing—simply supporting me as we moved forward at my pace.
Behind us…
Lucian remained where he was.
Watching.
David guided me toward the library.
"Thank you, David," I said quietly.
He looked at me for a moment, then he said . "If you need anything… call me."
He helped me settle into the chair, steadying me briefly before stepping back.
"Take care."
Then he left.
The door closed behind him.
A few moments passed—
And then it slammed open.
Scene shift to Lucian
I stood outside, watching her disappear inside.
A few minutes later, David stepped out.
"Well," he said, a faint laugh slipping through, "your woman is fine."
"Enough, David," I replied, my voice low.
He looked at me for a second, the amusement fading slightly.
"Go," he said. "Take care of her."
I didn't respond.
I simply walked past him and went inside.
Scene shift to Cristina
Lucian walked in, shutting the door with force. His presence filled the room instantly.
"Why are you here?" he said, his voice firm and controlled. "Come to the cabin."
"I'm not going," I replied calmly. "This is my workplace now."
He turned toward me—
His hand struck the table with a sharp sound. I flinched.
"Why do you keep defying me, Cristina?" His voice remained low but carried weight. "Why?"
"I don't want to work here anymore," I said. "Terminate me… ."
His expression hardened.
"That decision is mine—not yours. Recover first. We'll deal with this later."
"I don't need your care," I said. "I can manage on my own."
A brief pause.
"I've seen how that turns out," he replied. "And I won't have my work affected again."
My chest tightened. "I'm sorry… because of me, you've suffered. My accident affected your business. So just fire me."
...
"Just recover first," he said quietly. "We'll talk later."
Without warning, he picked up a knife and cut his own hand.
Blood slid down slowly, dripping onto the floor.
My breath caught. "What are you doing?"
"Use my blood," he said evenly. "It will help you heal."
I shouted, "Are you mad, Lucian? I don't want it. I don't want anything from you—not your blood, not your concern. Go back to your cabin… and wait for your girlfriend. Show all that concern to her."
The words landed.
In the next second, he moved—fast, controlled.
Closing the distance as I was sitting on the chair, he bent slightly. I lowered my gaze, refusing to meet his eyes. He was too close. I could hear his breath, steady… deliberate.
"You will," he said quietly, his voice dark with anger. "I'm not allowing this to continue."
I pushed against his chest. "What are you doing, Lucian?"
For a brief second, something flickered across his face—quick, contained—before it disappeared.
"You leave me no choice…" he murmured.
Before I could react—
He pulled me up from the chair, and I was standing on his feet, his hand firm at my waist.
Then—
He leaned in.
His lips met mine.
Cold.
Not harsh—but distinctly cold, as if something inhuman lived beneath his skin… yet strangely steadying. His hand rose slowly, his fingers brushing my cheek before settling there, holding me in place—not forcefully, but with quiet control. And for a moment… I didn't feel threatened. I felt… steady. Safe, in a way I couldn't understand.
As he started kissing me, I pushed him with my hands, but he held me more tightly from the waist. My breath caught—not just from the closeness, but from the way his hold felt… firm, certain… almost protective, though it made no sense.
The moment lingered. Then the kiss deepened. Slow. Deliberate. Unrushed… yet impossible to ignore. Something heavier moved within it—something restrained for too long. My thoughts blurred, slipping out of control, and for a second… I didn't know if I wanted to pull away.
Then I felt it. A faint metallic warmth.
His blood.
Transferred through the kiss… measured and intentional. A strange warmth spread through me, unsettling… yet grounding at the same time.
For a moment, I didn't pull away. I stayed. Not because I wanted to—but because i felt something that I don't know.
Until the realization cut through.
I pushed him back and slapped him. The sound echoed sharply, and the sting in my hand brought me back to myself. "I told you to… stop." While saying it, I looked into his eyes—my voice trembling despite my effort to steady it.
And I kept looking at him.
He was looking into my eyes too, as if something held us there—something neither of us chose to break. I didn't look away. Neither did he. The moment stretched, quiet and intense, like something unseen had taken hold of us.
I realized it then.
I had broken the rule.
Still, I didn't move.
I remained frozen, staring at him, as if something had already been decided… as if stepping back was no longer an option. A thought surfaced, and I stilled completely.
His eyes were purple.
Deep. Unnatural. Beautiful.
Not red.Not like in his portrait. Not like Alexander had said.
I couldn't look away.
He stepped toward me quickly, both his hands coming to my shoulders—urgency in every movement.
"Tell me… do you feel anything?" he asked, his voice lower now, strained beneath control.
I didn't respond.
"Answer me," he said. "Are you alright?"
There was something in his voice—
Something I had never heard before.
Fear.
His gaze moved over my face, searching… reading… waiting. His purple eyes held mine as he stood close—too close—and I found myself looking straight into them, unable to pull away.
And for a moment—
Everything stilled.
"You lied, Lucian," I said, my voice unsteady.
"I don't lie," he replied quietly.
"Then what is this?" I whispered. "Your eyes… they're not red."
He went completely still.
"They say demons take your soul if you look into their eyes…" I murmured. "Then just take it."
He went completely still.
"They say demons take your soul if you look into their eyes…" I murmured. "Then just take it."
His hands slipped from my shoulders, and he exhaled slowly.
Something shifted in him—sharp… restrained.
He stepped closer again, this time slower, more controlled.
"My eyes are… purple now?" he asked, as if confirming something he already feared.
"Yes," I said softly.
He moved even closer, his breath brushing against me.
"My original eye color is red, Cristina," he said quietly. "Trust me… something has changed. I don't fully understand it yet."
I kept looking at him, still caught in his gaze.
"What happened to you?" I asked, my voice softer now, almost lost in the moment.
"I don't know," he replied. "I'm trying to find out."
"Does it hurt… when it changes?" I asked.
"Not now," he said after a brief pause. "I don't know about later."
A silence settled between us.
"That's why you didn't take my soul," I said quietly.
"Maybe," he replied. "If my eyes had been red… my demonic side might have taken over. You know that."
Another pause.
Then his voice lowered—different this time. Not sharp. Not commanding.
Concerned.
"From tomorrow onwards… don't look into my eyes."
Then he took my hand and guided me back to the chair, helping me sit.
"I'm sorry for my behavior," he said quietly. "I only wanted you to take my blood so you could heal… that's why I did it that way."
Before I could respond, he lowered himself—kneeling in front of me, almost like something out of another world… controlled, yet unexpectedly sincere.
"I'm sorry," he said again. "Forgive me."
I frowned slightly, uncomfortable with the gesture. "Don't do that again in the future. Ever," I said firmly. "Now stand up."
Then, trying to ease the tension, I added lightly, "And don't tell your girlfriend that you kissed me… otherwise, she might kill you."
He straightened, his expression returning to its usual composure.
"I don't consider that a kiss," he said calmly. "I don't kiss like that."
I looked at him for a moment, then shrugged faintly.
"Never mind."
We sat across from each other, returning to our work. The silence between us wasn't uncomfortable… just heavy, lingering with everything that had already happened.
After a while, I looked up at him.
"Lucian… today is the only day I can look at you like this, isn't it? From tomorrow… it becomes dangerous."
"Yes," he said, without hesitation.
I held his gaze for a moment. "Then… may I look at you a little longer? At your face… your eyes."
Something in his expression softened—subtle, almost restrained.
He shifted his chair closer, then turned mine slightly toward him, as if offering me a clearer view without making it a question.
"yes ," he said quietly.I looked at him.
And didn't look away.
There was something about him —the precision of his features, the quiet intensity in his presence. It felt unreal…
How could a man appear so flawlessly composed—almost unreal, like something not meant to exist among ordinary things? I had never encountered a face like his… and before I realized it, I had already lost myself in his eyes.
I hadn't even noticed when I moved.
My hand lifted toward his eyes… but as I drew closer, my fingers faltered, shifting instead to rest against his cheek. My touch lingered—slow, deliberate—as though I needed to confirm the reality of him beneath my fingertips.
Then my other hand followed, and I found myself holding his face between my palms.
I leaned in.
A strand of his hair had fallen across his eyes. Carefully, I brushed it aside, my fingers grazing his temple… just enough to see him clearly again.
My gaze settled on his eyes.
Purple.
Deep… quietly consuming, without effort.
My fingers lifted once more—this time reaching for them. I traced just beneath his eyes… then lightly across his lashes.
Soft.
Unexpectedly so.
The contrast lingered—something so sharp, so inhuman… and yet, undeniably delicate.
My breath slowed.
Without intention—
And for a moment—
everything fell into stillness.
No movement.
No distance.
Only the quiet, suspended closeness between us.
My hands remained where they were… my breath near his… my thoughts slipping into something unformed, something I could not yet name.
And still—
I did not move away.
"Beautiful…" I said, almost under my breath.
"You don't realize what you're doing… do you?" he said softly, his voice low—nearly grazing my skin.
A pause followed.
"I said… what?"
The awareness came all at once.
I stepped back, restoring the distance between us. "I'm sorry…" I said more quietly.
He shifted slightly in his chair, as though gathering his composure again. "Don't look at me like that… not with those eyes," he murmured.
"Like what?" I asked.
His breath changed—subtle, but uneven for the first time—as he maintained that distance.
"So… that's why Arian fell for you," he said.
"Why did he?" I asked, meeting his gaze again. "Tell me."
He held my eyes for a moment, something restrained flickering beneath the surface.
"Look at the way you're looking," he said quietly. "Any man could fall for you."