Chapter 16

The mansion grew eerily quiet as the clock struck seven. Each chime seemed to reverberate through the walls, adding a weight to the already tense atmosphere. The rain outside intensified, slamming against the tall glass windows like a warning, while intermittent flashes of lightning illuminated the dimly lit room.

Elara shifted uneasily on the couch, her eyes flickering between Aron and the hallway Damien had disappeared into. Aron, oblivious to the storm brewing within the house, chuckled at something he had said moments ago, his carefree demeanor a stark contrast to the turmoil simmering beneath the surface.

“So, what’s the story with Damien?” Aron asked, leaning forward slightly. His curiosity was poorly masked by his attempt at casual indifference. “He seems... protective.”

Elara hesitated, unsure of how much she should reveal. “He’s... been a great help since I got injured,” she said, her voice carefully neutral. “I owe him a lot.”

Aron’s eyes narrowed slightly, his playful grin fading. “You trust him?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, a bit too quickly. “He’s been nothing but kind to me.”

Aron leaned back again, crossing his arms as he studied her. “Kind, huh? Well, I guess that’s good to hear.”

Elara forced a smile, but her heart was racing. She could feel the seconds slipping away, each one dragging her closer to the inevitable. She glanced toward the hallway again, her mind racing. Where was Damien? Was Shadow already taking over?

As if in answer to her thoughts, a loud thud echoed from upstairs. Aron sat up straight, his brow furrowing. “What was that?”

“Oh, it’s probably just the wind,” Elara said quickly, standing up despite the sharp twinge in her leg. “This old mansion makes all sorts of noises during storms.”

Aron didn’t look convinced. “Maybe I should check it out,” he said, already moving toward the staircase.

“No!” Elara said, perhaps a bit too forcefully. Aron stopped in his tracks, looking at her with a mix of confusion and concern. “I mean, it’s really nothing. Damien’s probably just moving something around.”

Aron tilted his head, clearly skeptical. “Are you sure? You look... tense.”

Elara laughed nervously, waving her hand dismissively. “I’m fine! Really. Let’s just sit back down and wait for dinner to be ready.”

Reluctantly, Aron returned to the couch, but his eyes kept darting toward the staircase. Elara’s heart was pounding in her chest. She needed to think of something, anything, to keep him distracted.

“Hey, Aron,” she said, forcing a cheerful tone. “Tell me more about what you’ve done at the café today?”

Aron hesitated for a moment before responding, his face lighting up as he launched into a detailed explanation about his training and of his latest ideas. Elara nodded along, her mind only half-listening as she strained to hear any sounds from upstairs.

But then, she heard it, a low, guttural growl that sent shivers down her spine. It was faint, almost inaudible over the rain, but it was there. She clenched her fists, trying to keep her expression neutral.

Aron, fortunately, didn’t seem to notice. He was too engrossed in his story, gesturing animatedly as he described his plans. Elara forced herself to smile and nod, even as the growling grew louder, more menacing.

Suddenly, the lights flickered. Aron stopped mid-sentence, glancing around. “Huh. That’s weird.”

“It’s probably the storm,” Elara said quickly, her voice shaky. “It happens all the time here.”

But the flickering lights were the least of her concerns. She could feel it now, a heavy, oppressive presence filling the room, pressing down on her like a physical weight. Shadow was here.

“Elara,” a voice called softly, almost a whisper.

Her blood ran cold. It wasn’t Damien’s voice. It was deeper, more resonant, filled with a dark power that made her skin crawl. She turned slowly, her eyes widening as she saw him standing in the doorway.

It was Damien, and yet it wasn’t. His posture was different, more predatory, and his eyes glowed faintly with an otherworldly light. Shadow had taken over.

“Who’s this?” Shadow asked, his gaze locking onto Aron. His voice was calm, almost pleasant, but there was an edge to it that made the hair on the back of Elara’s neck stand on end.

Aron stood up, frowning. “Uh, Damien? You okay, man? You look... different.”

Elara rushed to him, her breath uneven, her steps unsteady. She hesitated for a moment before speaking, her voice barely above a whisper.

"D-Damien... We have a guest. My friend from the café... He… he will be staying here tonight. The storm outside is too fierce. He won’t make it home. Can you prepare dinner, please?" Her words faltered, uncertainty lacing every syllable. She spoke softly enough that Aron couldn't hear her. She dared not meet Damien’s gaze, her heart pounding in trepidation.

A suffocating silence loomed before Damien finally responded. "Oh… Is that so?" His voice carried an edge of scrutiny, his darkened gaze sharp enough to pierce through her composure. Elara felt a shiver snake down her spine. She swallowed hard, gripping the hem of her sleeve, her eyes trained on the floor.

“Tell me, Elara… do you truly trust me?” Damien’s voice was smooth, but beneath the surface, it was laced with something dangerous, something primal.

She hesitated, her mind racing for an answer that wouldn’t provoke him. “Of course,” she managed, though her throat felt parched. “You’re always helping me.”

His smirk deepened, though his expression remained unreadable. “Good.” He reached out, his fingers grazing her cheek, but she flinched involuntarily. That seemed to amuse him. “You still fear me,” he mused, withdrawing his hand with a dark chuckle. “Even after everything.”

Elara’s pulse quickened. She had to tread carefully. She couldn’t let Shadow suspect anything, couldn’t let him believe she was against him. “It’s just… you’re different when you’re like this,” she admitted cautiously. “It’s hard to know what you’re thinking.”

Shadow tilted his head regarding her with keen interest. “And yet, you let that boy stay here,” he said, his voice dipping into something colder. “You let him into our space.”

Her stomach knotted. “He’s just a friend who came to visit me.”

A muscle twitched in Damien’s jaw. “A friend?” He echoed the word as if tasting its weight on his tongue. His gaze flickered toward the hallway where Aron’s room was. “You seem… fond of him.”

Elara’s hands clenched. “He’s important to me, but that doesn’t change anything between us.”

Damien’s gaze flashed toward Aron again, scrutinizing him with an unreadable expression.

"What’s this old man staring at? And why does Elara look terrified? ... I can't hear what they are saying," Aron thought, frowning.

With an exasperated sigh, Damien finally looked back at Elara, who remained fixated on the ground. He sighed as he reached forward, lifting her chin with a firm yet gentle touch. "What do you want to eat? I’ll prepare it for you." His voice was softer now, but still ominous.

She instinctively recoiled. "A-Anything is fine," she stammered.

Elara’s mind raced. He agreed? Just like that?

Before she could process it further, Damien slipped an arm around her waist, steadying her as he guided her to the couch. She remained frozen, aware of Aron’s narrowed eyes watching their every move.

“Hmph.” Aron sulked, crossing his arms.

“I hope you can wait until dinner’s ready, kid,” Damien, or rather, Shadow remarked, his voice laced with condescension.

“Huuhh... Kid? Are you picking a fight with me, old man?” Aron snapped, his irritation palpable.

“Old man, huh? How childish.” Damien’s tone remained indifferent as he walked toward the kitchen.

“You!” Aron began, only for Elara to interject.

“N-Now, now, let’s calm down.” Her attempt at peacekeeping was feeble, her nerves fraying with every passing second. What’s happening? Did my plan work? Shadow’s acting completely normal… Or is it Damien? No, no.. I felt Shadow’s presence earlier. It has to be him…

“Elara? Elara!” Aron’s voice jolted her from her thoughts. “What are you thinking so deeply?” he asked, peering at her curiously.

“Oh.. nothing,” she said quickly, forcing a smile. “How about we watch a movie while waiting for dinner?”

“That’s a great idea!” Aron agreed enthusiastically.

From the kitchen, Damien’s grip on a glass tightened. Watching Elara and Aron converse so effortlessly sent a wave of frustration crashing over him. His jaw clenched. “I need to get rid of that brat,” he thought darkly, his eyes gleaming with malice.

Elara stiffened. “That aura… He’s furious.”

With a sudden crack, the glass in Damien’s hand shattered, a shard grazing his palm.

“What was that? Did you break something?” Elara called out.

“Just a glass. Don’t worry about it.” Damien’s voice was calm, controlled as he bent down to pick up pieces of the glass when he felt a sudden pain in his chest. Pant … Pant!

Minutes later, dinner was ready. The three of them sat in eerie silence as the clock struck eight. The tension was suffocating. Only Aron’s voice broke through the quiet as he animatedly recounted his day at the café. Elara, too anxious to eat, could barely swallow a bite.

Cough …. Cough!

She choked, her throat constricting. Instantly, both Damien and Aron reached for their glasses, offering her water at the same time.

Elara’s mind reeled. Whose glass do I take? The situation was absurd.

Flustered, she grabbed her own glass, taking a sip, “T-Thank you, both of you.” Her voice was hoarse.

Damien and Aron both sat back, disappointment flickering across their expressions as they exchanged cold glares.

Once dinner concluded, Aron and Elara returned to their movie, with Damien joining them. The atmosphere remained taut, each moment stretching unbearably long. No one spoke.

When the movie finally ended, Elara stretched, her voice gentle as she turned to Aron. “You’re staying over, right? It’s already past nine, and the rain hasn’t let up.”

Aron’s eyes lit up. “Can I really stay?”

“Of course,” Elara affirmed with a smile before turning to Damien. “Could you lend him some clothes?”

Damien scoffed. “What? My clothes won’t fit a kid.”

“I am not a kid! And I don’t need an old man’s clothes!” Aron snapped.

“Tch. Suit yourself.” Damien muttered, irritated.

“Come on, guys, stop fighting. Aron, just take the clothes. Yours were a bit wet earlier. You’ll catch a cold.” She sighed. “You can use the room next to Damien’s. Make yourself at home.”

Elara turned to ascend the stairs, but before she could take a step, Damien swiftly closed the distance between them, lifting her into his arms.

“Wha- W-What are you doing?! Put me down!” she yelped, her face burning.

“You still can’t move around properly with that leg. Let me help you,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble.

Elara’s heart pounded. What… is this feeling? This warmth… It feels like Damien. But what about Shadow?

She met his gaze, and for a fleeting moment, a soft, almost tender smile touched his lips. She quickly looked away, her cheeks ablaze.

“You can’t just touch someone without their permission,” Aron huffed indignantly.

“…I know. But Elara isn’t just someone,” Damien said simply before walking away with her in his arms.

Her breath hitched. Her heart skipped a beat.

“Tch. I really don’t like that geezer,” Aron grumbled, following behind.

Once upstairs, Damien placed Elara gently on her bed. Without a word, he unwrapped her bandage, applied ointment, and massaged the area with surprising care. Standing in the hallway, Aron watched warily.

“Do not lock the door,” Damien whispered with a smirk as he left the room.

Elara stared after him, her mind whirling. What… was that? Was that really Damien? Then where is Shadow? She gripped her blanket. No… I can’t be sure. Should I lock the door? But Aron’s here, too…

Frustrated, she exhaled sharply. “I didn’t feel that suffocating aura earlier, so I should be safe…” she muttered before closing her eyes.

Meanwhile, Damien led Aron to his room.

“Here. Some old clothes.” He tossed them unceremoniously onto Aron’s face.

“Hey! Do you not have any manners?” Aron yelled.

“Keep your voice down. Elara is sleeping.” Damien’s voice was indifferent as he turned toward his own room.

Aron seethed. “Grrr… That bastard.” Muttering to himself, he stomped into the bathroom, showered, changed, and climbed into bed.

“I wonder if Elara’s already asleep?” he thought, turning off the light.

Moments later, the door to Elara’s room creaked open. A shadow loomed over her sleeping form.

♡♡♡

Who the hell is it now????? Bruh .... Enjoy!!

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