Chapter 4 – Questions That Won’t Stop

The rain continued to pour outside, its rhythmic sound filling the silence inside the grand house. Elara sat on one of the sofas in the living room, her eyes fixed on Lucien, who stood near the fireplace. His face remained unreadable, his expression cold, but there was tension in his posture—something that told Elara he was holding something back.

But she didn’t care. Her mind was overflowing with questions, demanding answers.

“Who are you, really?” Elara’s voice cut through the silence, firm and insistent.

Lucien didn’t answer right away. He merely glanced at her before exhaling slowly, as if he had been expecting this question all along.

“You’ve seen it yourself,” he said simply.

Elara frowned. “That’s not an answer.”

Lucien rubbed his temple, clearly frustrated.

“Are you one of them?” she pressed. “You killed them earlier, but are you the same as them? Do you want my blood too?”

Lucien tensed. His golden eyes flickered under the firelight, but he said nothing.

Elara felt her frustration growing. “What makes you different from them, Lucien? You say you’re protecting me, but how do I know you won’t betray me?”

This time, Lucien turned to her, his jaw tightening. “If I wanted your blood, Elara, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

The answer should have reassured her, but instead, it only made her more suspicious.

“Then why? Why are you different? Why aren’t you like them?”

Lucien let out a harsh sigh. He stepped closer, his sharp gaze locking onto hers. “Because I chose not to be like them.”

Elara fell silent for a moment, but her mind kept racing.

“And why me? Why is my blood what they’re after? What’s so special about me?”

Lucien didn’t respond. He only looked at her with an expression that was hard to decipher—something between exhaustion, frustration, and… perhaps a hint of regret.

“I shouldn’t have brought you here,” he muttered at last. “You ask too many questions.”

Elara gaped at him. “Excuse me?”

Lucien let out a long sigh, as if he truly regretted his decision. “I saved you because I had no other choice. But now I’m starting to think that was a mistake.”

Elara stared at him, disbelief washing over her. “You saved me, and now you regret it? Lucien, you can’t just drag me into this mess and expect me to stay quiet!”

Lucien didn’t answer. He just held her gaze for a long moment before finally turning away.

“You need rest. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

And with that, he walked away, leaving Elara drowning in unanswered questions.

Lucien led Elara to a room on the upper floor. It was spacious, designed in a classic gothic style. A crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling, casting a soft glow over the dark wooden furniture. One side of the room had a large window, where the rain continued to pour heavily outside.

“This is your room for the night,” Lucien said flatly.

Elara only nodded, still annoyed that their conversation had been cut short. Lucien had given her no chance to ask further questions and had simply walked away, leaving her alone.

But instead of sleeping, her curiosity burned even brighter.

She stepped out of her room, walking slowly down the long corridor of the grand house. The walls were adorned with classical paintings, some of which looked centuries old. The furniture had an antique elegance, reminding her of 18th-century aristocratic homes—the kind she’d only seen in vampire movies.

“Of course,” she muttered to herself, feeling absurd for even thinking it. “A vampire’s house has to look like this, right?”

Her fingers brushed over the polished dark wood of the staircase railing. Not a single speck of dust covered the house, as if everything inside it had been frozen in time.

She stopped in front of a large painting at the end of the hallway. The portrait depicted a man dressed in Victorian-era clothing—a long coat, a ruffled shirt, and a sharp gaze that felt eerily familiar.

Her stomach dropped. It was Lucien.

But something was different. The man in the painting had colder eyes, a harder expression. And if this painting was truly from that era… that meant Lucien had been around for a very long time.

Elara swallowed hard.

She was just about to step back when—

“You think too much.”

“AARGH!”

Elara nearly jumped out of her skin. She spun around, heart pounding, and there was Lucien, leaning casually against the wall with his usual unreadable expression.

“Oh my God, Lucien!” She clutched her chest, trying to catch her breath. “Are you trying to kill me like this?”

Lucien stared at her, completely unaffected by her outburst. “I wouldn’t have to try. If you keep wandering around like this, something else might find you first—”

“Wait,” Elara cut him off, narrowing her eyes as she steadied her breathing. “Were you following me?”

Lucien didn’t answer. He simply watched her in silence.

Elara crossed her arms. “Lucien, do you actually sleep during the day and creep around at night? Or do you just enjoy stalking people?”

Lucien raised an eyebrow, then sighed, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “I heard your footsteps. I knew you wouldn’t stay put, but even I didn’t expect you to roam around like some tourist fascinated by an old mansion.”

Elara scoffed. “Well, your house does look like something straight out of a vampire movie, you know?”

Lucien took a step closer. “And you think I keep a coffin in the basement?”

Elara shrugged. “Maybe.”

Lucien held her gaze for a long moment before exhaling in what could only be described as exhausted patience. “You should sleep.”

Elara opened her mouth to retort, but Lucien was already turning away.

“Don’t leave your room again,” he ordered without looking back. “Not every part of this house is as safe as you think.”

Elara frowned. “What do you mean—”

But before she could finish her sentence, Lucien had already disappeared into the shadows of the hallway.