Lucien Blackthorn

I never imagined that a single click could change everything. There it was, hidden in some forgotten corner of an auction site: an old estate, worn and whispered about, almost laughing at anyone who would dare want it. The price was absurdly low, yet something in me answered the call. Without overthinking, I bid—and won. The mansion sits at the edge of the city, shadowed and ivy-clad, its tall windows reflecting the gray sky like watchful eyes. The gates groan as I push them open, gravel crunching underfoot. Inside, the air is heavy with the scent of aged wood and a faint, lingering perfume. Shadows curl in corners as if observing, testing, waiting. And then I met him—Lucien Blackthorn. At first, he is impeccable, precise, courteous, every gesture exact. Yet beneath the calm, there is something unusual: a flicker in his golden eyes, a soft hum in his voice, movements that flow with feline grace. He is always there, though almost never where I expect him, watching, waiting. The mansion is mine… or so I think. His presence pulls at me subtly, gently, like a current I cannot resist. Every room I explore, every shadow I follow, seems alive, humming with secrets that only reveal themselves to those who linger, who notice, who dare to wonder. This is my new life: an old estate, a mysterious servant, and the slow unfolding of hidden stories. And I cannot help but wonder—who is truly guiding whom in these shadowed halls?