The Hidden Monster of House Vale

Lucien was walking away from the arena, the echo of Sarric's screams still fading in the vast space behind him. Blood coated his spear. Glass shards from the shattered dome crunched beneath his boots. The sunlight streamed down like a golden judgment, illuminating his path.

Then he heard a voice. Familiar.

“Can I talk to you? Please.”

He stopped and turned.

Evelyn stood a few meters behind him, her blue hair catching the light, her green eyes fixed on the ground. She was still wearing the same threadbare clothes she had fought in—the same simple, short-sleeved tunic, the same patched trousers. She had defeated a Late Tempering Realm Master in those clothes.

Now she stood before Lucien with her head bowed.

“Miss Evelyn,” Lucien said, his voice calm. “How are you doing? I saw your match with Kleric. It was impressive.”

She did not look up.

“So what is it you want to talk about?”

Evelyn's hands clenched at her sides. Her jaw tightened. When she spoke, her voice was rough—not with weakness, but with the effort of holding something back.

“I know I still owe you one hundred gold coins. I'm in debt because of you—because of the sword you bought for me. I'm grateful. Truly.” A pause. “But I need to support my family. My mother is my only family. Please… can you make me your retainer?”

Lucien's expression shifted—not to surprise, but to something more serious. Thoughtful.

“That's surprising,” he said slowly. “Coming from someone so prideful. If you don't mind me asking… why?”

Evelyn's composure cracked.

“To buy me that sword, my mother used our house as collateral for ninety gold coins. But then you warned us—told us not to use the house as collateral. So she went back to the merchant to get it back.” Her voice trembled. “But that bastard had already sold it. It wasn't a collateral agreement—it was a sale document. He fooled us. He robbed us.”

Her green eyes finally lifted, and Lucien saw the fury burning in them. Not a hot, wild rage—something colder. Deeper.

“We don't have anywhere to go,” she said. “Please. Make me your retainer.”

She swallowed hard.

“Everywhere in this world, everyone wants to rob us. We have nothing, yet they still want more. I thought after performing well in the arena, some noble family might recruit me. But they don't want anything to do with the likes of me.” Her voice cracked. “I already asked several families. No one is willing to help.”

Tears began to fall.

“I've hurt my mother so much. She sacrificed everything for me, and I can't even take care of her. What's the point of being strong if I can't save my own family? If I can't stop some merchant from cheating us?”

She wiped her eyes angrily.

“I don't open up to anyone. I don't know why I'm saying all this to you. You're a noble too. Why would you even help?”

She turned to walk away.

Lucien reached out, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her back toward him.

She stumbled, caught off guard, and found herself standing close enough to see the gold flecks in his cold eyes.

He sighed.

“You did your best,” he said quietly. “You did everything in your power. Don't blame yourself for this world's cruelty.”

He raised his free hand and wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb.

“I have never seen a mortal without Realm powers as strong as you. So don't blame yourself.”

Evelyn stared at him, her mouth slightly open, her heart pounding.

“For now, let's get out of here,” Lucien continued. “Take your mother and meet me at the Vale family mansion.”

He pressed several gold coins into her palm.

“This is for an inn. Rest. Clean yourselves. Then come find me.”

Lucien climbed the stone steps to the Vale family seating area. Lord Segast Vale sat with his arms crossed, a rare smile softening his weathered face. Lady Vale dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, still overcome with emotion. Aria sat stiffly beside her parents, not mocking, not smirking—simply watching her brother with new eyes.

Maisy stood behind them, her hands clasped, her crimson eyes shining with pride. And beside her, Eliss Alde waited, her white hair pulled back, her gray eyes bright.

“Good work, Lucien,” Lord Vale said, his voice thick with pride.

“Yes, son.” Lady Vale reached out and touched his arm. “I've always been proud of you. No matter how strong or weak you are, you are still my son.”

Maisy could not contain herself. “Young master, you were amazing today! Defeating that bastard—it was hilarious seeing his face busted and broken!” She laughed brightly, then froze as she realized Lord and Lady Vale were staring at her.

“Language,” Lady Vale said—but she was smiling.

Maisy's face turned crimson.

Lord Vale chuckled. “It seems Lucien has made an impression after this fight. People will think twice before speaking ill of the Vale family.”

Lucien turned to Eliss. “Did you enjoy my fight?”

She nodded slowly, her cheeks flushing. “Yes… it was quite scary to see you like that. But I suppose it's necessary. In the world of Realm Masters…”

She reached out and touched his hand. Her fingers were warm, hesitant, as if testing whether she was allowed.

Maisy noticed.

Her smile tightened. Her hands curled into fists behind her back.

Before the moment could stretch further, Novius Alde appeared, his wife at his side. Delian Alde was a striking woman—middle-aged but ageless, with blonde hair tied back in an elegant twist. She wore a black dress that bared her shoulders, a necklace resting against her collarbone, and red lipstick that made her smile look sharp as a blade.

“Lucien,” Delian said, her voice smooth as honey. “You have grown quite well. Perhaps a little scary for my Eliss.” She laughed softly. “But I enjoyed your fight immensely.”

Her eyes lingered on him.

“Especially the part where you bashed him into the ground. I don't like Sarric's noble family. So arrogant.”

Novius stepped forward, clasping Lucien's shoulder. “Congratulations, son. Segast was right about you. You surprised both of us.” He turned to include the entire Vale family. “I would like to invite you all to dinner. To celebrate. Both of our children have passed the trial.”

“Yes,” Delian added, her smile curving. “And I would love to get to know Lucien better.”

Lady Vale clapped her hands together. “Yes, our whole family will come. How are things with you, Delian? It's been so long since you invited us.”

“Oh, Elora.” Delian waved a hand. “Managing everything is such a hassle. But we manage.” Her gaze slid to Aria. “And how is young Aria? Still studying hard?”

Aria smiled nervously, her admiration for Delian evident in her wide eyes.

Lucien stood before his father in the lord's private study. The room was dark, paneled in aged oak, lit by a single candelabra on the desk. Lord Vale sat in his high-backed chair, his fingers steepled, his expression unreadable.

“Father,” Lucien said, “I need to ask your permission for something.”

“What is it?”

“I'm planning to take on a retainer. In the long term, this could be a great asset for the Vale family.”

Lord Vale's eyebrows rose. “Oh? And do you have someone in mind?”

Lucien told him everything—Evelyn's story, the sword, the merchant's deception, the ninety gold coins, the house that was stolen. Lord Vale listened without interrupting, his face growing darker with each word.

“It seems corruption is spreading through the Vale estate,” he said finally. “Your decision to bring them in is sound. You may make her your retainer.” He held up a finger. “But there is one condition.”

“What condition?”

“They will be your responsibility. Entirely. Anyone you bring into this family, you are responsible for.”

Lucien smiled. “I accept your conditions.”

“Mom, did you pack everything?” Evelyn asked, her voice tight with urgency.

Her mother, Olana, looked around the small, bare room. “Yes. We don't have much. It didn't take long.”

A knock came at the door.

The inn's female receptionist stood in the hallway, her expression unusually respectful. “There is a carriage outside. It bears the crest of the Vale family. A maid is waiting for you.”

Evelyn's heart lurched.

She and her mother gathered their meager luggage—a single worn bag between them—and walked outside. A elegant carriage stood in the street, its dark wood polished, its windows curtained in velvet. Beside it, a beautiful maid with crimson eyes and hair tied to one side waited patiently.

“Good evening, Miss Evelyn,” the maid said. “And Mrs. Olana.”

Evelyn straightened her spine, forcing confidence she did not feel. “Good evening.”

The maid—Maisy, Evelyn remembered—ordered servants to load the luggage into the carriage. Then she opened the door and gestured for them to enter.

Evelyn and Olana stepped out of the carriage and stared.

They had known the Vale family was a fallen Viscount house. They had expected something modest, perhaps even shabby.

This was not shabby.

The castle rose before them in dark stone, its towers reaching toward the evening sky, its windows glowing with warm light. Guards stood at attention at the gates. Servants moved through the courtyard with quiet purpose.

Maisy led them inside, through corridors hung with tapestries, past suits of armor and oil paintings of long-dead Vales. She explained the layout of the castle as they walked—the great hall, the kitchens, the gardens, the training grounds.

Finally, they climbed to the third floor.

“This is Master Lucien's room,” Maisy said, gesturing to a closed door at the end of the hallway. She paused, turning to face Evelyn. “I know the world has not been kind to you, Miss Evelyn. But Master Lucien is very kind to those close to him.” Her red eyes held Evelyn's. “And a nightmare to his enemies.”

They continued down the hall and stopped before another door. Maisy pushed it open.

The room was enormous—large enough for a family of ten. A massive bed dominated one wall, draped in velvet and furs. Tall windows looked out over Clafton City, the evening lights twinkling like distant stars. A fireplace crackled against the far wall. A private bathing chamber was visible through an open door.

Evelyn's mother gasped softly.

Maisy and Evelyn stood together by the window, looking out over the city.

“Master Lucien's life has been hard too,” Maisy said quietly. “His own family was never kind to him. But he never stopped trying to increase his strength. He never stopped trying to make the Vale family great again.”

Evelyn was quiet for a long moment. She was proud—too proud for her own good, she knew—but standing here, in this warm room, with a kind maid speaking gently to her, she felt something she had not felt in years.

Safe.

“Master Lucien has done so much for us,” Evelyn said softly. “I want to become powerful. Powerful enough to be useful to him.”

She had been grateful when he gave her the gold coins. Grateful, but not respectful. She had thought he was just another noble doing charity—a politician buying good will.

Then she had seen him in the arena.

She had seen his power. His cruelty. The revenge burning in his eyes.

Evelyn knew there were two kinds of nobles. Those who bought power, who collected powerful people like possessions. And those who became powerful—through sheer determination, through endless training, through blood and sweat and refusal to surrender.

Lucien was the second kind.

His failures were an open secret. Everyone in Clafton City knew about Seraphina's rejection. Everyone knew he had been stuck in the Early Tempering Realm for years, mocked and dismissed. She had assumed his kindness was a coping mechanism—a way to feel valuable when he had no strength.

But when she saw him destroy Sarric Mordric, she understood.

His kindness was not a coping method.

It was a choice.

And when she had humbled herself, begging for help from nobles she despised, feeling dirty and disgusted with every word—when everything was lost, when she thought her life was over, when she imagined herself and her mother homeless on the streets of Clafton, where people sold their bodies for a single meal—

Lucien had saved her.

Not because he had to. Not because it benefited him. But because he chose to.

“Miss Evelyn,” Maisy said, interrupting her thoughts, “please, go and bathe. I have prepared clothes for you and your mother. And I am preparing a meal—you must be hungry.”

Lucien lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, when a knock came at the door.

“Master Lucien,” Maisy's voice called. “Miss Evelyn is here to see you.”

“Come in.”

The door opened. Evelyn stepped inside. Maisy followed, then closed the door behind her, leaving the three of them alone.

Evelyn had changed.

She wore a beautiful dress that bared her shoulders, its fabric a deep blue that matched her hair. The bodice was fitted—perhaps a little too tight around her chest—and the skirt flowed to the floor. She looked nothing like the ragged girl who had fought in the arena.

But her eyes were the same. Sharp. Proud. Unbroken.

“So,” Lucien said, sitting up on the bed, “what did you want to talk about?”

Evelyn met his gaze steadily. “I want to know what you expect of me.”

Lucien smiled. “I want to take over the Vale family.”

Evelyn's eyes widened slightly. Maisy did not react—she had known.

“For that,” Lucien continued, “I need people loyal to me. People who will never betray me. Maisy is one of those people.” He looked at Evelyn. “I believe you could be another.”

Evelyn's mind raced. “But that won't be easy. Your brother, Riven Vale, is stronger than you. He's in the Spirit Forge Realm, isn't he?”

“Yes,” Lucien admitted. “But don't underestimate me. I can handle Riven myself. What I need are faithful people to manage things for me. Don't worry about the details now. This is a matter for the future.”

Evelyn was silent for a long moment.

Then she lowered herself to one knee.

Her head bowed. Her blue hair spilled forward, hiding her face.

“I have one condition, Master.”

Lucien leaned forward, interested. “Oh? What is it?”

Evelyn looked up.

Her green eyes burned with a cold, terrible fire.

“I want to annihilate the Stern family.”

The words fell like stones into still water.

“I want to kill every single one of them.”

Author Note:

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