During this week, Lucian sometimes tried to get close to his sister, but she always avoided him. His constant act of trying to imitate his father appeared to affect his mother, though she didn't show it. He couldn't see, but Aurora told him everything. At some point, his mother organized a healer to help heal his eyes, but they all said they wouldn't be able to heal them due to the cells being dead for too long. He also found out how rare healers were considered in the empire—not many were known to be healers except the elves, who were close to nature and knew how to use healing magic.
He got quite close to Aurora, who seemed to enjoy sleeping on his chest. This week was filled with constant planning about causing discomfort with how he acted, and it seemed it finally paid off. While he was in the library listening to Aurora read about the druid race, they heard a knock on the door.
"Enter," he replied.
The servant entered—by now, everyone had heard about the young master's return and his strange hobby of spending time in the library. The servant bowed before saying, "Good day, young master. Lady Seraphina requests you come to her chamber."
Lucian nodded before saying, "I'll head there now. You can go." The servant bowed one last time before exiting the room.
Silence descended, and after a while, Lucian turned his gaze to Aurora before asking, "Do you think it's probably because of that she called me?"
Aurora made a thoughtful sound before scanning the whole manor while saying, "It seems she wants to have a serious talk with you, from the expression on her face."
Lucian nodded before saying, "We should carry out the first phase of the plan."
Aurora looked at him before saying, "That will be great. You can go ahead; I will watch how things unfold from here." He nodded, stood up, and left the room.
When he got out, he smelled a familiar scent standing at the door. It seemed the servant was waiting to take him there. As soon as she saw him, she led the way while he followed. Getting to his mom's room, he knocked before saying, "Mom, it's me. They said you wanted to see me."
He heard a reply, "Enter." He entered, and immediately the sweet scent of gardenia hit him, but he paid no attention to it. He acted like any blind person would, stretching out his arm to reach for a place to sit. He knew where his mother was from her scent but acted oblivious to it.
He heard his mother say, "Here, let me help you." She directed him to a seat before saying, "I wanted to talk to you about the way you've been acting lately. You've changed a lot."
Lucian put a frown on his face—of course, he was faking it—before saying, "Mom, I don't understand what you mean by 'acting,' and yes, I've changed. Circumstances made me change, but I don't really know why you're talking like this. Did I do something wrong?"
He heard his mother sigh before saying, "No, not really. It's just that you act like... like your father. I see more of your father in you day by day."
Lucian kept quiet before saying, "Mom, you've been constantly saying I act more like my father, but you know he's dead, right?"
His mother didn't reply, just kept quiet, so he continued, "Mom, you might not know this, but Father really loved you. But he's gone, all alone, while you're still staying here. Sister probably thought I was the cause of Father's death. I let her think that because I want her to grow strong. She doesn't know you were the cause of Father's death."
Her eyes widened. The truth was that no one was really the cause of his father's death, but Lucian wanted to build guilt in her. He wanted to break her. The best way was to direct all the problems in one direction.
He had learned that the reason she couldn't accept his father's death was due to how it happened. The family had gone out to visit the druids, the family his father came from because of his gem disappearance—they wanted to confirm why it happened, whether he had turned back to human or something else. His sister wasn't with them when all of this happened. They were ambushed; he didn't know by whom, as the memories were foggy, but it seemed his father was the main target, and was more interested them to kill is father.
His father, who was believed to be strong, had shifted into a fearsome beast—that was the druid lineage power, shapeshifting. He had told Lucian's mother to run away with him, saying he would hold the attackers back. When she returned with guards, all they found was his dead body.
His father, who was believed to be strong, had shifted into a fearsome beast—that was the druid lineage power, shapeshifting. He had told Lucian's mother to run away with him, saying he would hold the attackers back. When she returned with guards, all they found was his dead body.
It became hell afterward. His sister said if he hadn't told them to go to the druid family, maybe their father wouldn't have died. The real owner of this body was so filled with guilt that he let it eat him up. He never confronted his sister to explain what happened, and their mother didn't bother to explain either, as she was isolating herself in the reality that their father was still alive but just not with them.
Lucian intended to shatter the illusion she clung to—and break her in the process. His voice was low but laced with accusation as he continued, "You could've saved Dad… if only you had stayed and fought with them. But you didn't. Now he's gone, and my sister blames me for everything. You see all of this—yet you still pretend it never happened."
A choked gasp escaped her lips. Then the sobbing began—sharp, broken, and desperate.
"H-huh… hic… I-I'm so sorry…" her voice cracked, barely above a whisper, "I couldn't… I couldn't do anything… hic… I was a victim too, Lucian… haaahh… I-I didn't want this…"
Her shoulders shook violently as the tears streamed down her cheeks, each sob growing louder, messier—raw and uncontained. It wasn't the dignified weeping of a noblewoman. It was the cry of a mother whose soul was splintering under the weight of guilt and loss.
He wasn't finished. Not yet he needed to break her even more.
"You say that," Lucian began, his voice calm, almost detached, "but have you ever considered that if you had helped—even once—you might have saved him? That if you had just explained things to my sister, maybe she wouldn't hate me the way she does now?"
His gaze stayed fixed ahead, expression unreadable.
"Do you think I don't deserve to be loved by my own family? In the end, everything fell on me. I lost my father… and my sister. We don't talk anymore. Not like we used to. I lost her."
He paused, just for a second. "I wanted to prove myself to her. That's all I ever wanted. But instead, I got kidnapped. I was tortured… experimented on."
His voice didn't waver. Still no emotion on his face.
"Do you know how hard that was for me? I kept begging for someone to save me. Someone to help. I thought—maybe—you'd come back."
He took a shallow breath, letting the silence stretch before his shoulders trembled slightly.
"Hic… hic…"
The sobs came slowly—soft, strained, but believable. His voice cracked at just the right moments, the tears never actually falling but his body mimicking every gesture of someone crumbling under the weight of grief."
His mother stood there for a moment, frozen, tears streaming silently down her face. Then, as if something inside her finally gave way, she rushed forward and wrapped her arms tightly around him.
"I'm so sorry," she cried, her voice breaking apart. "I'm so, so sorry, my son…"
Lucian stood still at first, letting the embrace sink in. The scent of her perfume, the trembling of her body against his—it was all real. Painfully real. He didn't return the hug immediately. He just let her sob against his chest, clutching him like a lifeline.
His face remained unreadable beneath the dark blindfold. No tears stained his cheeks.
But then, slowly, he raised his arms and wrapped them around her shoulders with gentle pressure, beginning to pat her back like a child trying to calm a weeping mother.
"It's okay, Mom," he said softly. "It's not your fault. I don't blame you."
Her cries grew louder as she heard those words, muffled against his chest, broken and raw. He continued, steady and calm, voice touched with just enough warmth to sound genuine—though inside, his mind was quiet, controlled.
"You did everything you could to protect us. You didn't have a choice."
She didn't respond, only tightened her grip as if afraid to let go again.
"That's why I have to be the one now," he continued. "That's why I have to awaken. I'll never let anything like that happen again."