The pale London sun poked through the rips in Elena's apartment curtains. She woke up with a pounding headache. The first things that flashed through her mind: Mick. Dropped pants. And that insanely hot, pale guy named Zavier.
"Was that even real? Or did I just lose my mind last night?" Elena muttered, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
She looked down at the floor. The box of books was still there. And man, it looked pathetic. Some of the leather-bound covers were warped from the rain. Elena bolted out of bed in a total panic. As an editor, she knew exactly how much of a nightmare Mr. Moustache could be if even a single page of his precious antiques got scuffed.
Elena worked a bunch of odd jobs at that old bookstore. She wasn't just a clerk; she was the one digitizing and editing ancient manuscripts. Occasionally, she acted as a courier for rare books because Mr. Moustache was cheap as hell and refused to pay for professional shipping.
"I'm screwed. Dead meat. That old man is gonna turn me into a museum exhibit if he sees this," Elena hissed. She took a lightning-fast shower, brushed her teeth like her life depended on it, and hauled the box out the door.
She didn't notice the shadow lingering in the dark corner of the hallway—a shadow with faint, glowing red eyes that vanished the moment she stepped into the lift.
***
The bookstore was tucked away in a narrow alley that was slightly fancier than Elena's neighborhood. When she walked in, the bell at the door sounded like a death knell in her ears
"Late! You are late, Elena!"
The voice thundered from behind a massive stack of books. Out popped a short, round old man with a belly and a white moustache so bushy it looked like it had a life of its own. Everyone called him Mr. Moustache. He glared at the clock on the wall, then back at Elena like he was about to rip her throat out.
"S-sorry, Sir. The rain was crazy last night and—"
"I don't care about the rain! Where is 'The History of the Shadow King' for Lord Harrington? That's a 17th-century masterpiece, Elena! That book is worth more than your life!" Mr. Moustache snatched the box from her.
The room went dead silent as he opened it. He pulled out a dark brown leather book. The corners were damp, the leather stained a shade darker.
"What is this?!" Mr. Moustache roared, his moustache quivering with rage. "Dirty?! Wet?! Do you have any idea how much this costs, Elena? How are you going to pay for this? Your kidney wouldn't even cover a single page!"
"I'm so sorry, Sir... the box gave out, and some guys jumped me in the street," Elena said, looking down, her hands shaking.
"I don't want excuses! Your pay for this month? Gone! And you're working overtime on the digital scripts for free for a month! If Lord Harrington complains, you're fired and I'm calling the cops for damaging antiques!"
Elena felt like crying. Debts piling up, and now her paycheck was trashed. She was about to apologize again when the door swung open.
A freezing aura flooded the room. Elena turned around, and her heart nearly skipped a beat. Zavier was standing there. Today he was wearing a black silk shirt with the top two buttons undone. His pale skin and sharp, aristocratic nose looked even more striking in the light. He looked like royalty that had accidentally wandered into a junkyard.
"Zavier?" Elena gasped.
Zavier didn't even look at her at first. He walked straight toward Mr. Moustache. His gaze was so cold it made you want to drop to your knees and beg for mercy.
"Who are you? We're not open yet!" Mr. Moustache snapped, though his voice wavered at Zavier's intimidating height.
Zavier glanced at the book in the old man's hand. "You're making this much of a scene over a piece of trash like that?"
"What did you say?! Trash?! This is a 17th-century relic!"
Zavier reached into his pocket and pulled something out. A solid gold coin with a strange engraving—a dragon coiled around a shadow. He slammed it onto the counter with a loud thud.
"I'm buying every book in that box. And I'll buy this whole damn shop too if you don't shut your mouth right now," Zavier's voice was low, but the vibration made the windows rattle.
Mr. Moustache froze. He picked up the coin, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. As a dealer in antiques, he knew value when he saw it. This coin... it wasn't in any history book, but the gold was pure and it looked ancient. It was worth enough to buy the whole block.
"I-is this... is this...?" Mr. Moustache stammered. His moustache wasn't shaking with anger anymore; it was shaking with a mix of fear and greed.
"Consider that payment for the damaged books. The rest is a bonus for Elena, since you've been so loud this morning," Zavier said, his eyes boring into the old man. "Elena, let's go."
Elena was still stunned. "Wait, what? Zav, what are you doing? What was that coin? Are you crazy?!"
Zavier didn't answer. He grabbed her hand—gentle but firm—and led her out of the shop. Once they were outside, she pulled her hand away.
"Zav! Seriously, what was that?! A gold coin? Where did you get that? Please tell me you didn't rob a bank!" Elena was panicking. She was starting to think Zavier was some high-level criminal.
Zavier straightened his collar, his face as unreadable as porcelain. "I told you, I'm a photographer. That coin was an old prop that turned out to be real gold. Inherited it from my grandfather. Better to use it to shut up a loudmouth like Mr. Moustache than let it collect dust."
"But that was too much, Zav! You could buy a house with that!"
"Money isn't an issue for me, Elena. What is an issue is my ears hurting from hearing you get yelled at," Zavier said, looking deep into her eyes. "You haven't eaten, right? Come on. I know a place that doesn't have debt collectors hanging around."
***
Over breakfast at a cafe so expensive Elena didn't even want to look at the menu, she suddenly remembered something.
"Zav, speaking of... do you know where Mick and his guys went? I walked past that alley this morning and it was dead silent. Usually, they're already there waiting to shake someone down for interest."
Zavier gave a tiny smirk that didn't reach his eyes. "Maybe they had a career change. Or maybe they found a 'place' more suited for trash like them." (Inside, Zavier thought: The bottom of a hell-pit, Elena.)
Suddenly, Elena's phone buzzed. A text from her bank. When she opened it, she let out a scream that made everyone in the cafe turn around.
"Zav!! Look at this!!!" She shoved the phone in his face.
It was a bank alert: *Balance increased by £50,000. Sender: Anonymous.* And below that, a text from an unknown number: *Your father's debt has been cleared in full. Don't ever look for us again.*
Elena broke down, sobbing into her hands. "Zav... tell me I'm not dreaming. My dad's debt is gone... I'm free, Zav... I'm actually free..."
Zavier stayed quiet, his hand reaching out to gently stroke her hair. He wasn't going to tell her he was the one who 'deleted' Mick from existence and hacked the banking system to wipe her slate clean.
"Yeah, you're free, Elena. From now on, nobody's going to touch you," Zavier whispered.
But behind that thin smile, Zavier knew this was just the beginning. Lucius, his commander back in Erebos, wouldn't just sit around while his King played house in the human world.
'Mick was just the warm-up, Elena. I'll make the whole world bow just to keep you smiling like that.'