{IRIS}
"Uhm . . . is this Lord Val?"
Sebastian paused beside me, his red eyes reflecting the dim candlelight. "Yes. Lord Vladimir Nightborne is the only heir of the Nightborne household."
Nightborne. Even the name carried a weight I didn't understand.
Sebastian continued, his voice calm but laced with quiet pride. "The Nightborne family belongs to the Bloodline Vampires. The oldest and purest of our kind. The heads of these ancient bloodlines are rulers in their own right, each possessing unique powers and traditions. They oversee their family's affairs and serve as counselors to the Elders. It is a position earned through strength, cunning, and the will to survive."
I swallowed. It was becoming clearer why Val carried himself the way he did—why there was something so untouchable about him.
"I . . . I see," I murmured. My fingers traced the embroidery of my sleeve as I hesitated before adding, "Lord Val . . . he seems different. He can use magic."
Sebastian's gaze flickered toward me. "You mean the Arcane?"
"Arcane?"
"It is what we call the power to bend nature. Only special creatures wield the Arcane. Lord Val awakened his abilities not long ago. But even without them, he was already a force to be reckoned with."
I was glad that Sebastian was talkative. There was a quiet wisdom to him, one that made me feel at ease despite the unsettling air of the mansion.
"I see . . . ," I trailed off before hesitating. "What about his parents?"
A shadow passed over Sebastian's features, but his voice remained steady. "They are gone. They died when Lord Val was young. Ever since then, he has carried the weight of the Nightborne estate and its legacy alone."
A pang of sadness settled in my chest. I knew what it was like to lose family, to feel the kind of loneliness that no one else could understand.
"T-that's . . . That's unfortunate," I murmured softly, though the words felt hollow.
Before I could dwell on it any longer, Sebastian stopped in front of a grand set of double doors and pushed them open.
"Your room, Miss Iris."
I stepped inside and gasped.
The space before me was vast, easily large enough to fit ten people. The high ceilings were adorned with delicate Rococo detailing, gold and ivory swirling into detailed designs.
The walls were lined with elegant tapestries, and a massive chandelier hung above, its crystals casting soft, flickering lights across the room.
At the center stood the most magnificent bed I had ever seen—canopied in sheer silks, its frame adorned with gold leaf detailing. Plush pillows and velvet blankets were neatly arranged, inviting and luxurious.
To the side, a marble vanity gleamed under the warm candlelight, and an adjoining door led to a private bath.
I was frozen in place.
In all my years, I had never stayed in a room like this.
Back in the pack house, I had slept in the basement—on a makeshift blanket, curled up against the cold stone floor, sharing space with rodents and insects. A bed was a luxury I had only dreamed of.
I didn't think this would be my room from now on.
My body moved on its own.
I ran to the bed and jumped onto it, sinking into the soft mattress with an audible giggle. The warmth, the sheer comfort of it—it felt like heaven.
I hugged the pillows, burying my face into them, inhaling the faint scent of something dark and intoxicating. His scent.
My cheeks burned, and I quickly sat up, embarrassed, realizing that Sebastian was still standing at the door.
But when I turned to look—
He was gone.
The doors had been silently shut behind him, leaving me alone in this grand, unfamiliar space.
The exhaustion from the night weighed down on me, pressing against my eyelids. The soft bed, the warmth, the distant echo of rain against the castle walls—it was too much to fight against.
Within minutes, sleep claimed me.
And for the first time in a long time . . . I didn't dream of nightmares.
I didn't know how long I had slept, but the crash of thunder jolted me awake. My body tensed as the echoes rumbled through the vast room, rattling the glass of the tall windows.
My breath came out in soft, uneven puffs as I tried to shake off the lingering drowsiness.
It was then that I noticed—I was curled up on the floor.
For a moment, I frowned in confusion, my fingers grazing the cold marble beneath me. Then, memory returned.
I had started in the bed, cocooned in warmth, but at some point, I had moved. The unfamiliar comfort of the mattress had felt too soft, too indulgent.
My body, conditioned by years of sleeping on hard, unforgiving floors, rejected the luxury. Instinct had driven me to seek what was familiar.
A weary sigh left my lips as I pulled the blanket tighter around me, intent on going back to sleep.
But then—
A flash of lightning illuminated the room.
And for a heartbeat, I saw him.
A figure sat on the bed, unmoving, cloaked in shadow. Silver eyes gleamed in the darkness, catching the brief light of the storm before it vanished into the night once more.
My breath hitched.
"L-Lord Val?" My voice was barely above a whisper.
Silence stretched between us, thick with something unspoken.
Then, his deep voice—low, rough, edged with calmness—cut through the darkness.
"Do you always sleep on the floor when there's a bed beside you?"
I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the blanket. Shame crept up my spine as I lowered my gaze.
"I-I'm sorry, Lord Val," I murmured. "It's not my intention to slight your generosity. It's just that . . . I've grown used to sleeping on the floor throughout the years. The comfort of the bed is . . . unsettling to me."
His silver eyes didn't stray from me.
"Sleeping on the floor," he repeated, and though his expression remained impassive, there was something different in his voice. A shift. Subtle, but there. "Did your pack treat you like a slave?"