That was him.
The same face he had seen.
He wore a guard's uniform, that of a low-ranking guard.
"Come to your father, Lynda, let me take you home—"
"Do not step an inch, Sire," Elian warned, blocking his path.
"Out of my way, young man!" The man barked.
Elian didn't flinch.
This was no Duke that could order his death or his mother's in a breath.
This was some drunk, abusive man in a mask of a caring father.
"No, Sire, don't let him get to me," Lynda cried behind Elian, her voice breaking.
"Lynda, don't be stubborn, Mama is very worried—"
"No! He's not my real father!" Lynda screamed, crying.
Elian locked his eyes on the man's meaty face. "Get to her... I dare you," he murmured calmly.
The man snorted with laughter. "And what are you going to do to stop me?" he asked, sizing Elian up.
The man believed he could easily take on a young lad, especially one who was wounded.
"Try me," Elian said, calm, relaxed, watching.
The man grinned.
"You asked for it, boy!" He sneered and took off to grab a log from the side.
"Sire, run!" Lynda warned, afraid as she saw that Elian was making no move to run away from her adopted father.
"I'll kill you!" The man roared as he pushed toward Elian with a jagged log.
"Argh!!!" The man groaned as he lifted his hand as high as it could go, aiming right for Elian's head.
Lynda ran over and hugged Elian's leg from behind, just as her adopted father was about to hit Elian with the log.
"Don't worry, Lynda. He won't hurt us," Elian's voice never increased.
In fact, he sounded calmer, as if speaking loudly would interrupt something in him.
Lynda blinked slowly, lifting her face to see what had happened.
What had happened to the attack?
Had her father stopped?
The moment she lifted her face, a sharp gasp escaped her lips, and she staggered backwards in fright.
"W-what... what have you done with him?" she stammered, staring with horror into her adopted father's pitch-black eyes.
He looked hypnotized; the hand that was holding the log had slackened beside him, with the log long forgotten on the ground.
Elian held the man's other hand as if he were exchanging a handshake with him.
"He is fine, I simply stopped him," Elian replied, taking his hand away from the man's hand.
Thud.
The man fell like a sack of potatoes onto the ground.
Lynda gasped, stepping farther away from Elian, her whole body trembling.
"Lynda, I will not harm you," Elian promised. "He is fine, I'm helping you get your revenge..."
He took a step closer to her. "I know what he does to you, Lynda. I'm here to help you," Elian explained.
She lifted her glassy eyes, looking at him like some God.
"You... you will help me?" she asked, still not trusting him.
The man on the floor suddenly gasped for air, clutching his chest.
"I'll show you," Elian smiled, gesturing toward the man as he lowered himself beside him.
"No, no, stay away from me," the man shook, his eyes widening with terror.
"Relax, I'm not trying to hurt you," Elian soothed, lacing his fingers with the man's.
His eyes hardened, shoulders instantly tensing as he shut his eyes for a while.
The air suddenly shifted.
Colder.
Crispier.
The man was shaking, but he seemed unable to move.
"Tell me, sir. Will I be wrong if I present you in front of the Duke for felony?" he asked, his eyes still shut.
The man groaned, blinking his eyes too rapidly as if he was trying to get something out of his eyes.
"I..." he breathed hard, glancing at Lynda with shame before his eyes hardened.
"I know not of what you speak," the man gasped out.
"Wrong answer," Elian's eyes flew open.
Crimson.
Deep.
Unsettling.
"M-monster..." the man stammered before passing out.
Slowly, Elian released the man's hand and stood, not turning to face the girl.
"S-Sire?" Lynda called, slowly approaching.
"Go to the stables, Lynda," he said, refusing to face her.
But it was late already.
She was already standing in front of him.
And the moment she looked into those crimson eyes...
"Argh!!!" She screamed so loud that birds flew out of the homes.
And then...
Thud.
She fell limp right next to her adopted father.
"Damn it," Elian muttered, dragging a hand over his face.
This was exactly why he hated hand contact.
_____
The grand hall was quiet, tension and curiosity thick in the air.
The sun was starting to peek through the clouds, casting through the cathedral windows and onto Elian, who was kneeling on the marble floor with swords pointing at him from different angles from the guards surrounding him.
It turned out Lynda's scream had alerted the nearby guards.
To make matters worse, it had been an hour, yet neither Lynda nor her adopted father had shown signs of waking up.
His victims were sprawled in front of him, a reminder of something that should have never happened.
Just like that, another night of not getting enough sleep passed in a wink.
Footsteps.
The guards straightened as the steps echoed closer and closer.
Elian remained slouched, staring at the floor calmly, but his mind was anything but.
He was trying to figure out how to defend his situation.
There was no way Lucien was learning about what he'd done.
It would change everything.
Lucien appeared, dangerously handsome. Even in stillness, he commanded the air itself—cold, heavy, and suffocating.
"Good morning, Your Grace," Edgar greeted, prostrating.
The other guards followed almost instantly, prostrating to the Duke.
Lucien ignored everyone.
Everyone but him.
His eyes fell on Elian, scanning him from head to toe, taking in his dishevelled form.
One thing seemed more disturbing than usual: the dark circles under Elian's eyes.
Like he hadn't slept for months.
It was unsettling, even for Lucien.
He could tell that his captive was very deliberately avoiding him... as it should be.
If Elian did not fear him, then his authority failed.
Slowly, his eyes fell away from Elian and onto the man and child lying a few feet in front of him.
"Clear," he ordered, voice low but powerful.
Immediately, the guards withdrew their swords from Elian, sheathing them.
A step.
That was all it took to stand right in front of Elian.
"What happened?" Lucien's silky voice slipped through his lips, reaching Elian's ear like a smooth, velvet curtain.
Elian dug his fingers hard enough to draw blood into his palm.
He knew this question was coming.
But now that it had come, his mind was as blank as a canvas.
What does he say?
How does he act?
He could not risk looking into Lucien's green eyes.
They always seemed too knowing, and he feared they might see right through him.
Elian suddenly saw the gloved hand coming toward his face and immediately leaned away to avoid Lucien grabbing his chin.
"Be still," Edgar suddenly grabbed Elian's shoulder, holding him steady.
Lucien paused, slowly lifting his gaze to Edgar.
For a brief moment, something unreadable flashed across his eyes.
He took a step backwards, lacing his fingers behind him.
"Why are they unconscious, Edgar?" Lucien asked, staring at the man and daughter on the floor.
Edgar stepped forward, throwing Elian a sharp look before bowing his head.
"Your Grace, my men, and I heard the little girl scream from behind the stables, and when we got there, we found the traitor standing over them," Edgar explained.
Lucien frowned—imperceptible, but still a frown.
It didn't seem right.
Elian felt it.
The dark, growing look from Lucien burned into his skin.
What now?
Is this where he gets killed?
"Young Morel," Lucien called, his voice deeper than usual.
Everyone could sense there was something edgy about his voice.
He surely wasn't going to take what Elian had done lightly.
Elian swallowed hard. "Your grace," he murmured, never lifting his head.
Lucien's shadow fell over him, blocking the rising sun from reaching him.
"Tell me what you have done," Lucien ordered coldly.
Elian sighed, biting his lip. "I did nothing, Your Grace—"
"Liar!" Edgar slapped Elian's face, grabbing his brown curls and forcefully tugging his head backwards.
Elian's eyes locked on Lucien's.
However, he did not see what he thought he'd find in there.
He thought he'd find anger, hate, rage.
No.
He simply found disapproval.
But at what?
He hadn't done anything to warrant such a disapproving look from him.
He darted his eyes away from Lucien's and licked his dry lip. "I swear, Your Grace... I did nothing—"
A gasp.
Followed by a series of coughs and whimpering.
Lynda was awake.
'Oh no,' Elian thought.
The moment Lynda's eyes landed on Elian, she choked and trembled, scrambling away from him.
"M-monster man," she stammered, pointing a shaky finger at him.
Elian sighed, lowering his face in defeat.
There was no hiding now.