"He had been called many things in his lifetime—
monster… king… devil…"
"But never—
brother."
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The moment Lucien left the human world, it was not like walking away—it was like dissolving out of existence itself. His body did not simply move; it vanished into the night like a shadow slipping between breaths, crossing distance with a speed that no human eye could ever perceive. The air bent around him as he moved, the world blurring into streaks of darkness and silver until the scent of civilization disappeared completely, replaced by something far more ancient.
The forest.
The moment his feet touched the soil of the dark forest, something in him shifted.
It was subtle at first.
A hesitation.
A disturbance.
Lucien stilled.
His senses, far sharper than any mortal creature, stretched outward instinctively, reading the world around him the way others read words on a page. The wind brushed past him, but it did not feel natural—it carried no rhythm, no softness. The silence that followed was not peaceful. It was… watching.
His brows drew together slightly.
"…Strange," he murmured under his breath, his voice low, almost swallowed by the darkness around him.
This forest—he knew it. He had walked through countless forests over centuries, had hunted in lands far more dangerous than this, yet something here now felt altered. As if the forest itself had become aware.
As if it was waiting.
His hunger, which had brought him here in the first place, began to fade into the background. It did not disappear—but it became irrelevant.
Something else was more important.
Without another thought, he began to move deeper into the forest, his steps soundless, his presence blending seamlessly into the shadows. The further he went, the thicker the air became, heavy with something unspoken. The scent of damp earth grew stronger, mixed now with something bitter… something unnatural.
Time passed.
Minutes.
Or perhaps longer.
Even Lucien didn't care to count.
Then—
He saw it.
A house.
Half-hidden beneath creeping vines and layers of moss, as though nature itself had tried to swallow it whole and failed. The structure leaned slightly, aged wood darkened by time, its windows dimly lit by a faint, flickering glow that pulsed unevenly—like a dying heartbeat.
Lucien slowed.
His movements became even more precise, controlled, as he approached without a single sound disturbing the ground beneath him.
As he came closer, the scent in the air sharpened.
Rot.
Herbs.
Blood.
And something darker.
He stopped just outside, his gaze shifting toward the narrow opening where faint light spilled out.
Inside—
The Witch.
She stood before a crude wooden table, her figure bent slightly, her long fingers moving with unsettling precision. Her appearance alone would have been enough to disturb even the bravest soul—skin sagging, stretched thin over bone, her hair tangled and dull like threads long forgotten by life itself.
But it wasn't her that caught Lucien's attention.
It was what lay before her.
A doll.
Small.
Fragile.
And attached to it—
A picture.
A girl's face.
Pinned to the chest of the doll like a mark of ownership.
Lucien's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched her hand move.
One pin.
Slowly pressed into the doll.
Another.
Deeper this time.
Each movement deliberate.
Each action filled with intent.
"…Black magic," Lucien thought, a faint curl of distaste forming at the edge of his lips.
He had seen it before. He understood it well.
It was not something he involved himself in.
This was not his concern.
He turned.
Prepared to leave.
Then—
A voice.
Low.
Almost affectionate.
"…Lily…"
The name slipped from the Witch's lips like something cherished.
Lucien froze.
It wasn't a physical reaction—it was deeper than that.
Something inside him tightened.
Sudden.
Sharp.
His chest felt… restricted.
As if for a brief moment, something had wrapped around his lungs and refused to let go.
"…What…" his thoughts faltered slightly, irritation rising instantly as he tried to dismiss it. "Why would that name—"
He cut himself off.
Annoyed.
Displeased.
He had lived for centuries. No name—no random voice—should have had any effect on him.
"…Irrelevant," he decided coldly.
And yet—
For a fraction longer than necessary—
He remained still.
Then, forcing the thought away, he turned again and moved deeper into the forest, his focus returning to his original purpose.
Hunger.
But fate—
Was not done with him yet.
Not far from the Witch's house, something moved between the trees.
Lucien stopped instantly.
His gaze sharpened.
A figure.
A girl.
Walking.
Slowly.
Too slowly.
Her movements were wrong.
Not weak.
Not tired.
Controlled.
Unnatural.
His eyes traced her form carefully as she stepped forward through the dim light filtering between branches. She wore a thin white night gown, the fabric brushing against the damp ground, soaking at the edges. Her bare feet moved across cold soil, small stones pressing against her skin, yet she showed no reaction—no hesitation, no discomfort.
Her arms hung loosely at her sides.
Her head slightly tilted downward.
And her eyes—
Empty.
No awareness.
No presence.
"…Under a spell," Lucien realized instantly.
His gaze shifted forward—
And then he understood.
She was walking toward the Witch's house.
Without another thought, his body moved.
In a fraction of a second, he appeared beside her, his hand reaching out and gripping her wrist firmly, pulling her back before she could take another step.
"Lily."
The name left his lips before he even realized he was saying it.
The girl's body jerked slightly.
Her steps faltered.
Her eyes blinked once.
Twice.
Slowly, awareness began to return.
Her gaze lifted.
Confusion flooded her expression as she looked around, her breathing becoming uneven.
Then—
Her eyes landed on him.
And everything changed.
"…Y-You—!" she gasped, her voice rising suddenly as fear overtook her, her body instinctively pulling back, though his grip still held her in place. "What are you doing?! Are you trying to kidnap me?! Bad guyyyy!"
Lucien stared at her.
For a moment—
Silence.
Then he exhaled slowly, a faint smirk forming, though irritation flickered behind it.
"…You truly are foolish," he said, his voice calm, edged with cold amusement.
He released her wrist.
"You were the one wandering in the forest like a lifeless doll."
His eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned closer, inhaling subtly.
Her scent.
"…You're a werewolf," he noted, his tone shifting slightly, more analytical now. "And an omega at that."
A pause.
"…A weak one."
Lily's expression shifted instantly, fear mixing with offense as her brows furrowed. "So what?!" she snapped, her voice small but filled with emotion. "Does that mean you can just bully me?!"
Lucien let out a soft, humorless chuckle. "Bullying implies effort," he replied smoothly. "You're not worth that."
Her lips parted in disbelief, hurt flickering across her face, though she tried to hide it.
"…You're mean," she muttered under her breath.
Lucien ignored that, his gaze sharpening again. "You should be more concerned about your situation," he said calmly. "Do you even realize who is standing in front of you?"
Lily blinked, then frowned slightly as she leaned forward a little, sniffing the air awkwardly.
"…No," she said after a moment, confusion evident. "Why can't I smell anything properly?"
Lucien's smirk deepened slightly. "Exactly," he said. "You can't even sense your enemy."
A pause.
"…A vampire."
The word dropped between them like a stone.
Lily froze.
Her eyes widened slowly, fear creeping in.
"you .... what? V… va… vampire…?" she stammered, her voice trembling as she took a small step back. "Y-you're… really a vampire?"
Lucien tilted his head slightly, watching her reaction with quiet interest. "Yes," he answered simply. "Does that frighten you?"
Her throat moved as she swallowed, her fingers curling slightly into her dress.
"…A-are you going to kill me?" she asked softly, fear clear in her voice despite her attempt to stay steady.
Lucien looked at her for a moment.
Then—
He chuckled.
Low.
Amused.
"I don't kill weaklings," he said, almost casually. "There's no satisfaction in it."
Lily let out a small breath she hadn't realized she was holding, though her body remained tense.
"…Then why am I here?" she asked, her voice softer now, confusion returning. "I was… in my bed…"
She frowned, trying to remember. "And then… I felt like someone called me… like something was pulling me…"
Her eyes lifted to meet his again. "Then I heard my name ,when I open my eyes..I saw you."
Lucien's expression shifted slightly, more serious now. "You were being controlled," he said. "A spell."
A pause.
"Do you know the Witch who lives here?"
Lily nodded quickly. "Yes! She's nice!" she said, a small smile appearing unconsciously. "She teaches us things… me and my friends go there every day…"
Lucien's gaze darkened.
"…Of course you do," he muttered under his breath.
He stepped closer, his voice lowering slightly. "Listen carefully," he said, his tone no longer amused. "Witches like her are never kind. Not without reason."
Lily frowned, shaking her head. "But she never hurt us—"
"That doesn't mean she won't," Lucien interrupted calmly.
The words lingered.
Lily fell silent.
Her thoughts began to twist, doubt creeping in, though she tried to push it away.
"…Then why are you telling me this?" she asked after a moment, her voice quieter now. "Aren't you… my enemy?"
Lucien laughed softly. "You?" he said, a hint of mockery returning. "You're not even close to being my enemy."
Lily pouted immediately, irritation flashing across her face.
Without thinking, she reached out—
And grabbed his finger.
"I can touch you," she said stubbornly. "So stop calling me weak!"
Lucien froze.
Completely.
Not from anger.
Not from irritation.
But from something else.
Something unfamiliar.
Warm.
His gaze dropped slowly to where her small fingers held his.
"…Strange…" he thought.
Then his eyes lifted to her face.
"…Who are you?" he asked quietly.
Lily smiled slightly, innocent, unaware of the shift she had caused.
"…Lily," she said softly.
A small pause.
Then—
"…Brother."
Lucien's entire expression stilled.
The word echoed inside him.
Deep.
Unfamiliar.
Yet—
It didn't feel wrong.
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