I Was Sent Into A Shitty Urban Novel

Lucious (Pov)

Lucious stood near the outer rim of the ballroom’s first floor, a half-filled glass of red wine in hand and a carefully chosen silence on his face. The polished shoes, tailored navy suit, and upright posture didn’t scream wealth—but they whispered promise. Promise was enough.

Music rolled gently from the orchestra. Servers moved in seamless rhythm. Laughter rang sharp in clustered pockets across the floor, most of it artificial. The true power in the room wasn’t measured by who spoke the loudest, but by who others paused to notice.

Lucious didn’t draw attention yet. Not tonight.

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But he noticed everyone.

His eyes drifted to the second-floor terrace—visible from almost every angle, raised just enough to create a hierarchy without saying it aloud. That level was reserved for the old names. The families with seats carved into stone decades ago. The untouchables. The predators.

And among them... her.

She stood out without trying to. Dressed in an elegant emerald gown that glimmered under the chandelier’s firelight, she leaned slightly over the railing, speaking to a man Lucious assumed was her uncle. Her beauty hadn’t dulled since the day they met. Even then—drunk, staggering, oblivious—he’d registered her. Her grace. Her sharp features. Her cold eyes.

Fan Yulan.

Lucious sipped his wine slowly, masking the cold flicker behind his gaze.

I’d recognize you in a crowd of thousands, he thought.

It had been a little over a year. Not a long time—but long enough to lose everything.