The hall below was frozen, air tight with shock.
But up on the staircase, Ameera felt it differently—closer, sharper, like the silence had lodged itself under her skin.
Her hand clung to the railing.
Her stomach felt like it had dropped several floors.
Her eyes refused to look away from him.
Lucien Rein.
That name didn't belong to the man standing in jet-black under those lights.
It belonged to a boy she'd known—eight years old, loud, reckless, always running around with bare feet and scraped elbows.
But the man below—
Cold posture.
Sharp jawline.
Hair styled back like he belonged in a black-tie boardroom.
A suit so dark it absorbed the glow of the chandeliers.
Everything about him looked… wrong.
Her mind pushed the image of the child she remembered over the man in front of her—
and the pictures overlapped for a second—
then shattered apart because they didn't match.
There's no way.
There's absolutely no way.
Ameera forced her feet to move.
One slow step down.
Then another.
Then another.
The crowd still hadn't breathed yet, which only made the sound of her heartbeat louder in her ears.
Lucien—if that was truly who he was—stood beside Aldric, expression unreadable. He didn't look around the room, didn't look at the faces that were close to crying, didn't look at the people whispering in disbelief.
He didn't even look at Marianne.
He stood like a man watching an event he wasn't part of.
A stranger.
Ameera reached the halfway point and stopped again, breath caught in her throat. She waited for him to scan the room. To look up. To meet her eyes.
He didn't.
Not even once.
He had no idea she was there.
No spark of recognition.
Nothing.
And oddly…
that made the shock worse.
Her fingertips trembled around the railing.
She whispered under her breath, barely a sound:
"…That can't be Lucien."
But the lights below illuminated every line of his face.
It was him.
Older.
Changed.
Unfamiliar.
But him.
Her chest tightened.
Her eyes stung, not with tears—
but with sheer disbelief.
Someone behind her whispered loudly, voice cracking:
"That's the Rein boy…? After twelve years?"
Ameera didn't answer.
She couldn't.
She just kept staring—
at the impossible man
wearing the name of the child she once knew
and looking back at the world like it meant nothing.
And Lucien never once looked up.
Ameera reached the bottom step and immediately felt the shift—
the crowd had broken out of its silence.
Whispers.
Gasps.
People moving toward Lucien like a magnet had been dropped in the center of the hall.
She gritted her teeth.
Of course they were crowding him now.
She didn't think—she simply moved.
Ameera pushed through the first line of bodies.
"Excuse me—move—"
"Let me through—"
"Ma'am—"
"Move," she repeated, sharper.
Someone tried to block her and she shoved past without looking.
Another shoulder pressed into her arm—she pushed that aside too.
Her chest tightened the closer she got to him.
The crowd thickened, voices overlapping around her:
"Is it really him?"
"He looks so different—"
"That can't be—"
"God, he's grown—"
Ameera pushed harder.
Her pulse hammered against her ribs.
Not emotional.
Not nostalgic.
Just shock that refused to loosen its grip.
She slipped past one more cluster of people—
—and then the crowd opened.
She stepped forward.
And suddenly she was in front of him.
Eye level.
Face-to-face.
Lucien finally turned his head.
His eyes met hers.
Ameera's breath stalled.
Her stomach lurched upward again.
The hairs on her arms rose for the second time.
It really was him.
Older. Hardened. Unfamiliar in every way that mattered.
But those eyes—
They belonged to the boy who vanished twelve years ago.
She wasn't ready for the collision of images in her head.
Her thoughts scrambled, messy, disbelieving, refusing to settle.
Lucien blinked once.
The voice inside him muttered:
"…Isn't this the girl from the airport?"
Lucien's brow twitched in recognition.
"Yeah," he answered silently.
"Wonder why she's so surprised."
He had no idea why she was staring at him like that.
No idea what he represented here.
No idea she knew the child he once was.
Ameera's lips parted, but no sound came out.
Her eyes shook.
Lucien just watched her, mildly puzzled, the room's chaos fading into background noise.
Two people.
Two different worlds of understanding.
One impossible moment.
And neither spoke first.
The voice clicked its tongue inside him:
"Wave her off or something — she's staring like a creep."
Lucien sighed internally.
"Man… she seems nice."
He lifted his hand
and gave her a small, casual wave.
Ameera's chest tightened instantly.
The wave wasn't familiar.
Wasn't nostalgic.
Wasn't a reunion greeting.
It was the wave you give someone you vaguely recognize.
The voice added:
"Airport girl."
Lucien nodded to himself and muttered under his breath:
"…She did save that D'Souza hag from becoming a statistic."
Then he waved again — a little firmer, now that he remembered where he'd seen her.
That second wave hit harder than any punch.
He remembered her from yesterday.
Not from childhood.
Not from being eight.
Not from the house they played in.
Not from the promise he once made with a scraped knee and dirty hands:
"I'll never forget you."
Her stomach lurched painfully.
He had forgotten.
All of it.
Ameera swallowed, the sound catching in her throat.
She shifted her gaze away, searching for something—anything—to anchor herself.
Her eyes landed on Elaine.
Elaine was being hugged by relatives, tears in her eyes, smiling through it all. When she looked up and spotted Ameera finally reaching Lucien—
Elaine lit up.
She gave Ameera the brightest, happiest smile.
A smile that said:
"You must be so happy he's back!"
Ameera froze.
Elaine didn't know.
Didn't realize.
Didn't see the look on Ameera's face.
She thought Ameera was part of this joy.
Part of this reunion.
Part of this homecoming.
But none of them had told her.
Not Elaine.
Not Marianne.
Not a single Rein.
They didn't think to include her.
That realization hit colder than anything else.
Her chest tightened with something small and sharp—
a betrayal so quiet it almost didn't feel real.
Ameera forced herself to look at Lucien one more time.
He still had his hand half-raised in a polite wave.
Still smiling faintly.
Still looking at her like she was the girl who saved Ms. D'Souza from getting flattened.
Nothing more.
No recognition.
No memory.
No promise.
He forgot her.
All she could do was stand there, staring at a man who had once been her closest friend—
and now saw her as nothing but a stranger from yesterday.
Ameera couldn't stand there another second.
She turned sharply and pushed back into the crowd.
People were still flooding toward Lucien, and she slid through the gaps between them like she was trying to escape a fire.
Someone bumped her shoulder—she didn't react.
Someone called her name—she didn't hear it.
She kept walking.
Past the families.
Past the chatter.
Past the stunned faces.
She reached the main door and grabbed the handle—
—but something made her glance back.
Her parents were speaking with Aldric and Marianne.
Her mother laughing politely at something.
Her father nodding along.
Marianne smiling through her tears.
Aldric composed, formal, proper.
None of them noticed her leaving.
None of them looked up.
Ameera stared for a second, her jaw tightening, then turned away and walked out.
The cold air hit her face immediately.
She didn't stop walking.
Not down the pathway.
Not past the gates.
Not through the neighborhood.
Her footsteps were fast, sharp, uneven.
By the time she reached her house, her breath was shaky.
She unlocked the door quietly, stepped inside, and slipped past the living room without waiting for her parents.
Up the stairs.
Down the hall.
Into her room.
She shut the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment, chest rising and falling too quickly.
Then she walked to her bed, sat down—
—and the moment she lowered her head…
everything broke loose.
Tears spilled silently down her cheeks, falling onto her palms.
Her shoulders shook once, then again, then again—
but she kept the sobs quiet.
She refused to let anyone hear.
She curled forward, burying her face into the sheets, gripping the blanket tightly as if it could ground her against the storm inside.
Ameera cried alone.
Quietly.
Violently.
And she hated every second of it.
Because the boy she once knew—
the boy she believed would always remember her—
came back as a man who didn't know her at all.
And no one thought she deserved to know sooner.
Not Marianne.
Not Elaine.
Not her own parents.
That was what hurt the most.
The emptiness in the room swallowed the sound of her breath as she curled tighter, knees to her chest.
She didn't want to be seen like this.
So she didn't let herself be.
Only the walls heard her.
Only the dark.
Only the bed she clung to as her heart cracked quietly inside her chest.
The night dragged on.
Lucien endured it in controlled doses —
forced handshakes,
polite nods,
fake small talk he didn't care about.
People kept approaching him:
"We're so glad you're safe."
"You've grown so much."
"You look just like your father."
"Where have you been all these years?"
"Do you remember—?"
Lucien answered as little as possible.
"Thank you."
"Mm."
"No."
"Excuse me."
Reggie handled most of the people for him.
Rowan blocked others when Lucien's patience began to thin.
Marianne watched him from across the room like she couldn't decide whether to hug him or faint.
Hours passed.
The crowd thinned.
Eventually, by midnight, the last guests stepped out through the gates.
The lights dimmed.
The house exhaled.
For the first time since he arrived…
Lucien could breathe.
He walked to the nearest armchair — a big, velvet one — and dropped into it with a long, tired breath.
He slumped back, head hanging slightly over the cushion.
His suit jacket was open,
top buttons undone,
collar loose,
chest showing,
leg crossed over the other knee lazily.
One arm dangled over the armrest.
It was clear he was done.
"That was way too many people, Dad," Lucien muttered.
Across from him, Aldric took his own seat — same posture, same leg crossed, same back leaning —
but somehow Aldric's version looked dignified, deliberate, almost regal.
Lucien's looked like he survived a battlefield.
Aldric loosened his tie, sighing.
"It's the Rein family," Aldric replied. "Crowds are unavoidable."
Lucien exhaled through his nose.
"Next time, avoid them."
The voice snorted inside him.
"True. I wanted to strangle half of them."
Lucien didn't comment.
Aldric rubbed his forehead, tired but composed.
"You'll get used to it."
Lucien scoffed.
"No," he said immediately. "I won't."
Aldric almost smiled — the tiniest curve, gone in a second.
They sat in the dim hall, father and son mirroring each other,
one polished by years of leadership,
the other shaped by twelve years of hell.
Two silhouettes sharing a silence heavy enough to make the furniture creak.
Rowan wandered in first, hands in his pockets.
"You look like a corpse," he said casually as he dropped onto the couch beside Lucien.
He slouched the same way—head tipped back, legs spread, matching Lucien's posture on purpose.
Lucien didn't react.
Rowan grinned.
Reggie arrived next, loosening his sleeves as he walked.
His wife trailed behind him, tired but glowing from all the commotion.
They barely sat down when—
Two streaks of chaos sprinted across the hall.
"UNCLE LUCIEEEEEEEN!"
Reggie's kids barreled straight toward him.
Before he could prepare, both of them jumped into his lap at full speed—
a boy and a girl, barely big enough to cause damage but fast enough to surprise him.
Lucien grunted when they landed.
The little girl clung to his chest.
The boy wrapped both arms around his shoulder.
Lucien blinked once.
Rowan snorted.
Reggie hid a laugh behind his hand.
Even Aldric's mouth twitched.
Lucien placed one hand behind each kid's back so they wouldn't fall.
"…You two are heavy," he muttered.
The children giggled and squeezed tighter.
Lex arrived next, hovering near the edge of the group like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to join.
He looked at Lucien
then at the kids in his lap
then looked away, embarrassed.
"Come here, Lex," Marianne urged gently from behind him.
Lex shuffled forward and sat on the armrest next to Lucien, pretending he wasn't excited.
Then Marianne herself stepped in.
Her eyes were still swollen from crying, but her smile was soft.
Elaine came right behind her, wiping her face with her sleeve.
She sat beside Rowan, knees pulled up slightly, watching Lucien carefully—
like she was trying to memorize every detail of his face.
The room settled.
The chaos of the party felt far away now.
The chatter outside had faded.
Only family remained—
the circle closing naturally around Lucien, filling every space near him.
Lucien leaned back again, kids still hanging on his chest, Lex on his right, Rowan on his left, Aldric across from him, Marianne and Elaine beside each other.
For the first time that night,
Lucien didn't look overwhelmed.
Not relaxed.
Not comfortable.
But not fighting the moment either.
Rowan nudged him with his elbow.
"So," he said with a grin, "how does it feel?"
Lucien looked at him.
"What?"
Reggie answered for him, leaning forward:
"To be home."
Lucien's eyes lowered slightly.
A beat.
A breath.
"…Loud," he said finally.
They all laughed softly—
even Aldric.
The kids didn't understand, but they laughed too, because everyone else did.
The hall felt warm again.
And Lucien…
for the first time since the announcement,
didn't resist it.
Aldric leaned back in his chair, loosening his tie just enough to breathe.
"I'm happy," he said quietly, looking around the room. "All my children are back under this roof… and each of you has become successful in your own right."
Reggie smiled.
Elaine sniffed.
Rowan nodded proudly.
Lex grinned.
Then Lex tilted his head, eyes narrowing at Lucien with the confidence only a 12-year-old could have.
"Uh… doesn't Lucien have to go to school?" he said innocently. "I mean, technically speaking… I'm more educated than he is."
The room froze for half a second.
The voice inside Lucien exploded with laughter.
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—
INSULTED BY A 12-YEAR-OLD—KILL YOURSELF, LUCY—AHAHAHA!"
Lucien's eye twitched violently.
He turned and stared at Lex, expression flat but definitely annoyed.
Lex raised his hands defensively.
"What? I'm just saying!"
Rowan leaned forward, smirking.
"Yeah, Dad," he said. "What about that? Gonna send him back to school? Uniform and all?"
Reggie burst out laughing.
Elaine hid her smile behind her sleeve.
Even Marianne's lips twitched.
Lucien shot Rowan a glare sharp enough to cut glass.
Aldric exhaled slowly.
"I am," he said, "actually glad you brought that up."
Everyone turned to him.
Aldric folded his hands, posture straightening with a weight that instantly changed the room's tone.
"Since you and Reggie have both refused it repeatedly," he said, eyes shifting between the two older brothers…
"…I will be handing over the factory to Lucien."
Silence.
Rowan's smirk fell off his face.
Reggie straightened in his chair like someone pulled a string on his spine.
Elaine blinked.
Lex's jaw dropped.
Lucien raised an eyebrow.
"The what?"
Aldric continued calmly, as if he hadn't just dropped a bomb in the middle of the room.
"The factory," he repeated. "The core of our business. The foundation of the Rein estate. It needs a successor. You two"—he looked at Rowan and Reggie—"made it clear you want none of it."
Rowan rubbed the back of his neck,.
"Yeah, well… I did say that."
Reggie sighed.
"I told you I'm better on managing side …"
Aldric nodded once.
"Which leaves," he said, gaze turning fully to Lucien,
"this one."
Lucien blinked slowly.
The voice whispered:
"…You're kidding."
Lucien muttered out loud,
"…I just got here."
Aldric leaned back, unfazed.
"And now you start."
Aldric steepled his fingers, eyes fixed on Lucien in a way that made the entire room fall silent.
"You all think I'm choosing blindly," he began.
"I'm not."
Rowan and Reggie exchanged looks.
Lex leaned forward.
Marianne stopped breathing.
Aldric continued:
"Earlier today, when Lucien was at the factory, he looked over our monthly papers. Within minutes, he pointed out cost leaks, misallocated labor, pointless bulk orders, and unnecessary maintenance cycles."
Rowan blinked hard.
"Wait—he did what?"
Reggie frowned, confused.
"How the hell—?"
Aldric raised a hand.
"He suggested measures for cost-cutting and profit maximization I haven't even considered. Crude, yes—" he allowed, "but correct. With refinement, they become brilliant."
Lucien stared back at him, expression unreadable.
Aldric leaned back, voice deepening.
"And there's more."
Rowan shifted.
Reggie swallowed.
"I looked into this 'Shinji' character he mentioned."
Lucien's eyes flickered.
Aldric continued:
"Shinji is not some nobody. He is one of Japan's greatest businessmen. A legend. A man who has mentored CEOs, rebuilt failing empires, and shaped some of the sharpest minds in the modern corporate world."
The room froze.
"But Shinji's greatest protégé…"
Aldric paused, letting the words build weight.
"…is a man known publicly as Raizo Fujiwara."
The room held its breath.
"But privately," Aldric finished, looking directly at Lucien—
"his documented alias… is Lucien Rein."
The air shifted.
The voice inside Lucien burst out:
"Your dad got connections, kid."
Lucien muttered under his breath,
"…Yeaaah…"
confused, surprised, and quietly proud.
Aldric wasn't done.
"And there is something else," he said firmly. "Something I verified myself."
He looked at Rowan and Reggie, then at Marianne, then back at Lucien.
"For twelve years, Lucien didn't just wander. He studied. Harder than either of you. Harder than most men."
Aldric's voice lowered.
"He holds a master's degree.
And a doctorate.
In business administration."
Rowan's jaw dropped.
Reggie stared like Aldric had spoken another language.
Lex's mouth fell open.
Elaine covered her lips.
Lucien… blinked.
The voice whistled.
"Damn… you're overqualified to exist."
Aldric nodded once, sealing the decision.
"So yes," he said.
"Lucien Rein will inherit the factory."
Silence fell over the room like a final verdict—
heavy, inevitable, absolute.
Lucien leaned back in the chair, kids still sitting in his lap, staring at Aldric with a tired, slightly baffled expression.
"…This was a lot for one night," he muttered.
Aldric exhaled.
"For all of us," he agreed.
Reggie let out a long breath, then grinned.
"Well… damn," he said, leaning forward. "If that's the case, I'm all for it."
Rowan chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Same here. If anyone's gonna run the place right, it's clearly not me."
He pointed at Lucien with a smirk.
"You got this, Doc."
Lucien glared.
"…Don't call me that."
Reggie laughed harder.
The voice inside Lucien's head immediately jumped in:
"Shouldn't you mention how you're ALSO a doctor—
a cadaver expert,
a mercenary,
a murderer,
a kidnapp—"
"Shut the fuck up," Lucien muttered under his breath, jaw tightening.
Rowan blinked.
"What?"
Lucien waved it off.
"Nothing."
The voice snorted, unfazed:
"Right, nothing. Just your beautifully criminal résumé."
Lucien exhaled loudly and sank deeper into the chair.
Reggie raised a brow.
"You good?"
"No," Lucien said flatly.
"Not even close."
Rowan laughed.
"Welcome home, little brother."
Lucien didn't look at him, but the corner of his mouth twitched—
just barely.
The house was silent now.
Lights off.
Corridors dark.
Lucien lay on his bed, one arm over his forehead, staring at the ceiling.
He should have fallen asleep instantly.
He was exhausted.
The day had been too long.
The crowd too loud.
The emotions too suffocating.
But every time he closed his eyes—
her face came back.
The girl from the airport.
The one who stared at him at the party like he'd stepped out of her nightmares or memories.
He turned onto his side, annoyed.
Why had she looked at him like that?
Like she knew him.
Like she had known him for years.
He pressed harder into his pillow.
Why?
He went digging through his mind.
Through every corner he could reach.
Faces.
Names.
Fragments.
Sensations.
Nothing.
No memory of her.
Not from childhood.
Not from before.
Not from anywhere.
Just the airport.
He exhaled sharply.
"Just who the hell is she…?" he muttered.
The voice stirred lazily.
"Not able to sleep, huh?"
"No."
"Thought so."
A beat of silence.
"Well… it's not like we are restricted to sleep."
Lucien's eyes opened fully.
"…Yeah," he said quietly, an edge slipping into his tone.
"Ominously, yeah."
He sat up.
Swung his legs off the bed.
Walked to the wardrobe and pulled out:
A black hoodie.
Loose black jeans.
Gloves.
His boots.
He dressed fast, efficient, movements sharp and practiced.
Then he stood in front of the window, breathing slow.
He inhaled once—
"Geba-ku-in."
Black smoke poured from his teeth, thick and heavy, swirling around his face.
It wrapped upwards, clinging to his skin, hardening, sharpening—
The oni mask formed.
Full.
Silent.
Cold.
The eyes glowed faintly behind the slits.
As he unlocked the window latch, the voice continued its lazy monologue:
"I know what you're really thinking about.
Not her.
Not tonight.
You're thinking about those idiots who ambushed you earlier."
Lucien stepped onto the window ledge.
His voice dropped, quiet and sharp.
"…Yeah."
The mask tilted toward the night sky.
"Where was it again?" the voice asked.
Lucien answered without hesitation.
"The old warehouse near Redford Village."
The voice smirked inside his skull.
"Let's pay them a visit."
Lucien disappeared into the night.
Lucien climbed out onto the ledge and dropped into the courtyard with a silent thud, landing like he'd done it a hundred times.
He glanced toward the garage.
"…I need an electric bike," he muttered. "Should ask Dad to get me one."
The voice snorted.
"Yeah. After we finish tonight's little errand."
Lucien walked across the yard, quiet as a shadow, and stopped beside the old café racer parked near the wall. He grabbed it by the handles, lifted the front slightly—
And forced a clean jump over the low section of the boundary wall.
The bike hit the ground outside with a muted thump.
Lucien followed, landing beside it.
He didn't start it yet.
He pushed it down the narrow side path away from the Rein estate—
far enough that no one could hear the engine.
Only when he reached the empty road did he swing a leg over the bike and sit.
He turned the key.
The engine roared to life.
As he rolled forward, the voice muttered:
"You know… this reminds me of the first time you tried to escape that bastard's dungeon."
Lucien didn't respond.
"Tenth attempt," the voice went on. "You almost made it to the stairs before that idiot guard woke up."
Lucien exhaled, gripping the handles.
"…Don't start."
"Relax. I'm not talking about the sad parts."
The voice chuckled darkly.
"Remember your first kill instead?"
Lucien's eyes narrowed behind the mask.
The voice continued, amused:
"That guard… the one with the crooked teeth?
You picked the lock with a spine shard, snapped his arm, stole his knife, and carved a hole out of the wall with it."
Lucien didn't smile.
But the engine revved a little harder.
"Or your first mission," the voice added.
"The rooftops, the smoke, the panic… you didn't even know you were being tested until after you'd gutted that gang leader."
Lucien stayed silent.
Just pushed the throttle.
The bike shot forward into the night—
fast, smooth, cutting through the cold wind like a blade.
Shadows blurred around him as he sped down the forgotten road leading out of the Rein neighborhood.
Streetlights grew fewer.
Houses disappeared.
Trees took over.
Fog rolled low across the asphalt.
The voice hummed.
"Feels familiar, doesn't it?
Night.
Speed.
A mask on your face.
Someone's blood waiting at the end of the road."
Lucien said nothing.
He just accelerated.
Minutes passed.
Lights vanished behind him one by one until the world was only the road, the wind, and the faint glow of the moon.
The smell of the city faded.
The air turned colder.
Rougher.
Older.
Lucien leaned forward slightly.
He had reached the outskirts of Redford Village.
Black trees on both sides.
Old cracked signboards.
The beginning of the abandoned zone.
He slowed the bike to a deep, quiet growl.
The mask tilted toward the darkness ahead.
The voice whispered:
"Let's hunt."