It was raining the night they brought Juliana to the Theosbane estate, situated in the Golden City of Luxara.
The first thing she noticed about their mansion was how cold it was.
Not just the marble floors or the high walls made of actual gold — but the very air itself.
It was the kind of cold that crawled beneath your skin, settled deep into your bones, and made you feel like you would never be warm again.
She was around eight years old when they dragged her through those luxurious halls — barefoot, wrists bound in iron shackles, and her dress tattered from days spent in a cell.
The scent of damp stone and candle wax filled the grand corridors, but beneath it, she still smelled the smoke. Her home. Her family. Burned.
That scent clung to her skin and hair, no matter how many times the servants scrubbed her raw.
She had expected death when they dragged her before Arthur Kaizer Theosbane — the man who personally massacred her father.
He sat upon a throne-like chair, his impassive golden eyes as cold as everything else in his city.
She was so small. A scrawny, trembling thing. Yet he looked at her the way one might look at an insect that had wandered indoors.
He didn’t kill her.
Instead, he made them throw her into the mansion like a stray dog. Stripped of title. Stripped of all status and meaning.
She wasn’t made a servant immediately. And she was not a noble anymore.
She was just… there. An object for the household to use as they pleased.
And they did.
The maids tormented her, venting their frustrations on her, calling her the traitor’s daughter.
The nobles sneered, finding amusement in her suffering. Even their children treated her like filth beneath their shoes.
But none among them was as cruel to Juliana as her — Duke Arthur’s own flesh and blood. His daughter, Thalia.
Samael’s twin sister had the Theosbane family’s trademark golden eyes. She had also inherited their father’s effortless charisma.
She was radiant. Beloved by her people. A girl of sun and fire.
But the fire is often uncaring of what it burns.
And Thalia was the same.
•••
Juliana could hardly remember what had set Thalia off that day. But it didn’t matter. It never did.
The Theosbane princess did whatever she wished, without even the slightest care for consequence.
Because there were no consequences for her.
She owned the world, and by extension, everything in it was for hers to break.
Juliana gasped as she hit the floor.
She had learned early not to cry. Not to scream. Showing pain to her tormentors only made them more vicious.
But that day, no matter how fiercely she bit her tongue, no matter how tightly she clenched her jaw, she couldn’t help it.
Her small body quivered, shoulders heaving as she lay curled on the ground. A thin trickle of blood ran from her split lip.
Thalia crouched beside her, tilting her head. Her golden eyes were gleaming with a child’s curiosity, but that curiosity was too detached for someone her age.
“You’re more stubborn than I expected,” her voice was light. Almost amused. “Most children would have begged by now.”
Juliana didn’t answer. She stared at the marble floor, fingers curling into fists.
A sharp pain bloomed in her ribs as Thalia prodded her with the tip of her boot. “I wonder how long you’ll last.”
It had started with a simple command. Thalia had wanted her to kneel. To bow like a proper dog in front of her mistress.
Juliana had refused. Maybe out of pride. Maybe because some fragile, grieving part of her couldn’t stomach bowing to a Theosbane.
So Thalia had decided to teach her manners.
She had taken Juliana to the old music hall, the one no one used anymore, where the chandeliers were covered in dust and the grand piano sat untouched.
There were no servants. No watchful eyes. Just a golden-eyed girl and her broken plaything.
Then the door suddenly slammed open.
Samael burst through, breathless. His hair was a mess. He must’ve run there.
His eyes widened as he took in the scene, darting from Thalia to Juliana.
“What are you doing?” he questioned. His voice was still a boy’s voice. Higher. Not yet roughened with age.
“What do you see?” Thalia scoffed flatly, rising to her feet. “I’m teaching her a lesson. Someone has to.”
Samael clenched his jaw. “Leave her, Lia. She hasn’t done anything to you.”
Thalia let out a soft laugh. “Oh, look at my baby brother trying to play the hero. Didn’t Ali teach you? Weaklings get punished for speaking up.”
Juliana could barely focus. Her vision was swimming. But even through the haze of pain, she saw it — that shift in Samael’s face.
He knew his sister was right. Knew he wasn’t strong enough to stand against her. Thalia was already an Awakened, even at such a young age.
But even so, he said it.
“Stop.”
A simple word.
A foolish one.
Yet, uttered with more conviction than anything Juliana had ever heard.
Thalia blinked, then smiled. “Are you serious right now, brother?”
And then, before Juliana could process what was happening, Samael lunged — not to strike Thalia, but to shield Juliana from her.
His arms came around her, his thin frame pressing close, as if his body alone could protect her from Thalia’s wrath.
Silence stretched.
The golden-eyed girl sighed. “You really are an idiot.”
And she didn’t stop after that.
Juliana never knew if it was out of amusement or frustration, but Thalia turned her attention to her brother instead.
He was smaller than her. Weaker. The heir in name only.
And she struck him. Hard.
Juliana flinched as Samael crumpled beside her, blood welling at the corner of his mouth. He gritted his teeth and tried to push himself up.
But Thalia stepped on his hand, pinning him with lazy grace.
“Get it through your thick skull,” she murmured. “Weaklings. Get. Punished.”
And then — right there, in front of Juliana — she broke him.
Not with pain. Not like she’d tried with Juliana.
But with humiliation.
With words sharper than any blade. She called him weak. Useless. A disgrace. Said Father would never look at him as long as she was alive.
Then she punched him again. And again. Until he fell.
And Juliana, who had sworn never to bow to a Theosbane, trembled with rage.
•••
He was the only one kind to her after that.
Despite the beating. Despite the shame.
Samael never spoke of that incident ever again.
He never asked for gratitude.
But from that day on, he became the only warmth in that cold, lifeless mansion.
He brought her food when the servants starved her and made sure no one ever bullied her.
He whispered reassurances when the nights grew too long. Dragged her to play with him. Sat beside her in silence under the stars.
He never expected anything in return.
He was a Theosbane.
…But he was human.
She was soft-spoken, meek, shy, and scared.
He was loud and bright and wore his heart on his sleeve.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” he once asked, grinning that boyish grin that always made her feel so safe. “That’s okay. I talk enough for the both of us!”
He was… the warmest thing in the world.
He was her anchor.
She remembered whispering once that she wanted to eat something sweet.
The very next second, he stole a raspberry pastry from the kitchen and gave it to her.
She didn’t even like raspberry. But after that day, no other flavor ever compared.
She never told him how grateful she was for him just for existing. But she was.
Without him, she wouldn’t have survived that place. That time in her life.
He was kind. Thoughtful. Sweet.
Even when she was made his Shadow, she wasn’t worried about it because she knew he’d never be cruel to her.
Because he was her savior.
…Until he wasn’t.
It happened slowly.
Samael’s father turned cold to him. Even colder than before as time went on and he couldn’t Awaken.
And his sister’s brilliance cast him in shadow. They dueled in a Rite of Valor for the title of the next Duke or Duchess of Luxara, and she won.
At first, he grew quiet. He became withdrawn.
Then he grew restless. Reckless.
He started picking fights, chasing danger, pushing boundaries.
She thought he was doing it all to awaken his Origin Card.
But even after he did… even after he Awakened, he didn’t stop.
If anything, he became worse. He became… scary.
Drinking, doing drugs, mingling with the wrong kind of people. He was completely different from the warm boy she once knew.
And then, one night, he changed completely.
Juliana had never disobeyed him before. She’d had no reason to.
But at that noble party, when he gave her a simple command — something so trivial she couldn’t even recall — she didn’t respond.
She didn’t do it out of defiance. She simply didn’t hear him.
But in front of his peers, it didn’t matter.
They laughed at Samael. They mocked him for not even having his Shadow under control. They already saw him as weak and incompetent.
And he finally snapped.
He raised his voice at her for the first time.
And when they returned home… he made her pay.
He tortured her by activating the BloodWorm.
She screamed and cried and begged.
She tried to explain. But he didn’t listen.
He kept going.
He had been the only human among the monsters.
So why — why did he have to do something so… monstrous?
That day, she realized the boy who once saved her was gone.
And she hated him for it.
Not because of his last name. Not because he was his father’s son.
But because he had been the only one who ever made her feel safe.
And he had taken that away.
•••
Now, years later, they were facing one another — unrecognizable from the children they used to be.
Juliana, still on her knees, stared at the hand Samael was offering her.
The same hand that had once pulled her up from the dirt.
The same hand that had shoved her back down a hundred times since.
A lump formed in her throat.
He was giving her a deal, asking her to work with him to kill the Golden Duke.
Her heart twisted and ached in her chest.
How dare he?
How dare he pretend he hadn’t been the reason she learned how to hate?
He was a Theosbane. A monster like the rest of them.
Just another name on her kill list.
And yet—
Her fingers trembled at her side.
Even now — even after everything — some broken part of her remembered the boy who once stood up for her.
The boy who’d taken the pain for her.
Who bled for her.
She drew a slow breath and raised her gaze to match his.
His golden eyes weren’t soft anymore.
Not reckless or cruel either.
Just cold. Calculating. And lost from the innocence he once held.
Hiding a storm of emotion behind a logical façade.
So much like her own.
She clenched the fingers of the hand she could still move, nails cutting deep into her palm.
Her voice, when it came, was a whisper. But it cut through the silence anyway. “…Fine.”