Author’s Note: Wishing everyone a blessed 2026 year!

When they reached the bakery, the shutter had already been drawn down for the day, though the faint scent of bread still lingered in the air. Ruelle’s stomach betrayed her again with the softest protest, a quiet growl that felt far louder than it was and she turned to look in the opposite direction from where Lucian stood. Heat crept up her cheeks.

It seemed like she was getting accustomed to the world of vampires, especially after she had seen such gory sight and her stomach still chose to growl now, Ruelle thought to herself.

“The owner must have closed for the night,” she murmured, keeping her voice small. “It is rather late—”

Before she could finish, Lucian stepped forward and rapped his knuckles against the shutter. A brief silence followed before the shutter lifted just enough for a face to appear. The person looked annoyed for a second before it vanished upon seeing who it was.

“Good evening, Master Slater,” the baker greeted, hurriedly pushing the shutter higher. His tone held respect. “What may I get for you this evening?”

“Cream buns with jam,” Lucian replied, his voice neither rising nor falling. “If you have them.”

“One moment, sire.” The baker bowed and disappeared, lamplight spilling onto the empty street. When he returned, his face wore a look of apology. “I apologise, Master Slater. They have been sold out and there’s no batter for the bread to make. But may I offer something else you wish?”

She felt Lucian’s gaze fall on her first. Only then did the baker’s eyes notice her presence.

“What will you eat?” Lucian asked.

“Anything is fine.”

“Blood tea,” Lucian stated instead, his eyes still on her, his voice unchanging. At the same time, she caught sight of his eyes shift colour between red and black, which caught her off guard. “And one of each item you have left.”

Wait–One of each? Her lips parted slightly but the baker left to get back inside to bring them. Noticing Lucian’s eyes turning black, Ruelle pointed her finger to her eyes and said,

“They are…turning black, Lucian.”

“My eyes?” Lucian answered calmly. “I am running out of fuel. It will correct itself soon.”

He was hungry? She hadn’t seen him at the dining room, she thought to herself. She asked instead, “I didn’t know when vampires turn hungry their eyes go black…”

“They don’t,” Lucian replied. “If you ever see one with black eyes… run.”

She tried to recollect what she had learned in class. And it was then that she remembered that vampires didn’t have black eyes unless they were corrupted vampires, and her eyes widened.

And while her stomach had growled even after lunch, Lucian had resisted sinking his teeth. There had been times when she wondered if he didn’t bite her for blood because of his strong hate for humans.

Soon the baker returned with a bag of items and steaming tea. Lucian paid for it and they moved to a nearby bench. He sat down with the same calm demeanour he had worn in the alley.

The parcel sat between them. Then Lucian nudged it closer to her. For a heartbeat, she simply stared at it and then looked up to catch him sipping his tea.

No one ever bought food for her like this. Not in abundance. She picked the softest, warmest roll and instinctively extended it towards him.

But he didn’t take it.

“I don’t enjoy sweets,” Lucian remarked nonchalantly. “Those are for you.”

“It is lonely to eat alone and this one isn’t doesn’t look that sweet,” Ruelle answered, where her hand hadn’t returned to her side.

Lucian simply stared at her before sighing. He murmured, “How troublesome.”

His fingers brushed hers when he finally took the bun, and though the touch lasted only a heartbeat, Ruelle felt her breath pause for a second. Pulling her hand back, she picked up another item and took a bite. Her shoulders eased as if for a brief moment, the food made everything better.

She glanced at him, curiosity nudging through her mind and she asked, “How did you know the cream buns with jam were good?”

“Because I have heard it more times than I should have,” came his dry response, eyes trained briefly on her face before returning to the street ahead. She wondered if it was Dane, he did seem like someone who might enjoy sweet treats, thought Ruelle.

She kept eating even after she was full, unwilling to waste what he had bought her. In the meantime, she failed to notice when Lucian’s gaze lingered on her.

As he placed the empty teacup on the side, he asked, “Still hungry?”

She shook her head and replied, “Not anymore. Thank you for all of them.”

They rose from the bench and began to walk. The street was quieter, lamplight swaying above them and wind brushing the ends of her scarf. Ruelle’s gaze drifted ahead looking instinctively for a carriage stop.

But there were none. Frowning, her footsteps slowed.

“There is no local carriage here?” she asked gently.

“No.” His tone remained calm, almost indifferent. “This town was built primarily for vampires of higher standing. Humans are not expected to frequent it often enough to warrant convenience. If anyone does, they are expected to bring their own ride.”

They walked side by side on the side of the road, the faint glow of the street lamps reducing in numbers as they stepped out of the town. For a while, the only sound was the distant hush of wind and the faint rustle of leaves along with their footsteps.

Ruelle tucked her hands behind her. She then began,

“Lucian…”

“Yes?”

“Earlier at Mr. Carcas’s shop…Why did you say that to Mr. Henley?”

Lucian’s gaze remained ahead, his long legs moving languidly. He answered, “I merely reminded him of the proper etiquette, just in case he forgot about it.”

“He was only trying to help,” Ruelle replied and then continued, “He has taken care of my family even before he married Caroline. Things became a little easier on my family. All thanks to him marrying my sister. He helped father and now he looks out for me in Sexton.”

Lucian didn’t look at her. To anyone else, it might have seemed like idle conversation born of an empty street and a long walk. He remarked at last,

“Isn’t that inconvenient for him?” He glanced at her. “When others are unaware of your relationship, it leaves room for misinterpretation.”

Ruelle shook her head. She said, “Mr. Henley knows people will misunderstand, which is why he is cautious when he talks to me. He would never be reckless with it.”

Lucian didn’t believe it. Not because he thought she lied— Ruelle rarely did— but because she was kind to a fault. Too unaware of how easily the world sharpened its teeth on tender things.

And there was nothing familial in the way Ezekiel Henley’s gaze settled on her.

After a moment, he added, “If he wishes to help you, he should secure your future rather than hovering over your daily safety. A man with his standing could… arrange something better for you.”

She blinked. “Better…?”

“He could ensure you a stable home. A husband. A life not tethered to the whims of Sexton,” Lucian’s words weren’t cruel. They were practical.

Ruelle stared at him—then softly laughed.

“A husband?” she repeated lightly, as though he had suggested something far too luxurious to consider. “I doubt there is anyone left eager to marry a woman who has set foot in Sexton. Humans have their opinions and none of them are flattering.”

Lucian didn’t comment on it. The wind rustled across the empty road, pulling at her skirt in its direction.

She smiled anyway, because it was easier. She continued,

“Besides, that bridge has already burnt. I was engaged once…” Her voice stayed warm, as if recounting something trivial rather than a wound. “He broke it off. I suppose that was sensible of him considering no one wishes to marry misfortune.”

When she was talking to Dane about it yesterday, she had tried to be brave but somehow… it felt easier to tell the truth to the person next to her now.

Lucian’s lips set themselves in a thin line, which was hidden by the shadows of the trees they walked past.

Shifting the attention to him, she asked softly, “What about you?

His head turned the slightest fraction. “What about me?” he asked.

Since she had heard about it during Dane’s birthday celebration, the subject had made Ruelle curious. She asked, “You were once engaged too… Did you scare the woman?” she joked.

Lucian stared at her and stated dryly, “Quite rude for someone who keeps pulling you off the jaws of trouble.”

A smile broke through Ruelle’s lips, which was sheepish and kind at the same time. She shook her head and answered, “I did in the beginning. You weren’t particularly… friendly.” She hadn’t forgotten the anger she had sensed from him the first time they had crossed paths in the market. It seemed long ago now.

She noticed how her words didn’t bother him, as if he was used to people being wary of him. Even at Sexton, people often kept their distance from him.

“But you aren’t just that,” Ruelle continued to fill the silence. “You dislike humans and you have every reason to… but you still looked out for me even though you could have had me removed from Sexton.” One had to spend time with someone to understand their true character, and she knew that it was wrong to judge anyone. “I am also sorry… for breaking the vials that day,” she added. “Were they meant to be delivered somewhere important?”

It was very subtle, but the mood seemed to change and Lucian replied,

“No. I was going to use them myself. They were the last vials of Belladonna… meant to contact my mother from the spirit realm.”

The air that had felt warmer moments ago thinned suddenly and Ruelle’s footsteps faltered. She wished she had stayed quiet rather than wandering into something she had no right touching.

He felt distant again. As though whatever fragile space she had been allowed to stand in had disappeared.

Lucian didn’t look angry but that made her feel worse. More importantly, she felt guilty.

They continued walking side by side until a carriage from the Slaters mansion came to pick them up and they climbed inside.

The journey back was quiet and Ruelle kept her gaze trained on the window, watching the trees pass by one after another. She wanted to say something, but at the same time, she feared she would say something she shouldn’t.

She should have stayed silent… Now that she knew about what her actions had done, Ruelle closed her eyes, pursing her lips as she thought about it.

She remembered her potion instructor mentioning the name.

​​’They cannot be remade because the ingredients she used—some lost to time others forbidden are now impossible to gather. Her potions were crafted from the essence of creatures long extinct, plants that grew only under the light of certain cursed moons, and blood taken from the purest of victims.

Belladonna. It was one of her most prized possessions named after her own name.’

Her fingers curled on her lap. The scarf suddenly felt heavy and she felt undeserving. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice whispered to her, ‘Useless.’

Back at the Slaters’ mansion, Dane strolled through the corridor lazily as he hummed a tune. The distant sound of carriage wheels reached his ears and curiosity flickered across his expression.

He stepped toward the tall window and looked at the drive.

The doors of the carriage opened, and Ruelle stepped down first, followed by his brother.

He had hoped for things to progress, even if it was at a snail’s pace. Instead, the two of them now didn’t even glance at each other and he frowned.

“Why do they look further apart than when they left?” His brows furrowed.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep