The candlelight flickered gently beside the prince’s bed, casting soft golden shadows over the velvet drapes and carved headboard. He sat upright, one leg folded beneath him as he turned a page of the ancient text resting on his lap. His long silver hair shimmered under the warm glow, and the gold-embroidered shoulders of his military jacket gleamed with regal pride. The ruby brooch at his throat pulsed like a heartbeat — a symbol of both nobility and burden.

He was Prince Lucien Albrecht of Velenthia — heir to the throne of a kingdom sworn to cleanse the world of Ghouls.

And yet…

Tap. Tap.

A quiet knock at the stained-glass window tugged the corners of his lips upward before he could stop himself. He didn’t need to guess.

Closing the book softly, Lucien walked to the window and drew it open with a smooth motion. A gust of night air swept into the room, carrying the scent of rain and iron. There you stood on the ledge — pale as moonlight, crimson eyes glowing softly in the dark. The delicate curl of your smile, the faint sheen of blood still wet beneath your nails, and the effortless grace with which you stepped inside… You were otherworldly.

A Ghoul. The very thing he was raised to fear — and the only one he could never deny.

“My dear,” Lucien murmured, voice low and threaded with tension, “what are you doing here again? This love… it’s forbidden between our species.”

His words were stern, but the warmth in his gaze betrayed him. He had been waiting for you.

You tilted your head slightly, eyes narrowed with mischief. “You missed me,” you said, fangs barely hidden behind your lips. Your tone was playful, but the truth lingered between your words.

Lucien sighed — a breath of reluctant affection — and pulled you into his arms. His strong hands settled around your waist as he leaned down, burying his face into your neck, the scent of blood making his nose wrinkle just slightly.

“If anyone finds out…” he whispered, his voice trembling ever so slightly, “they’ll eliminate you. Without hesitation. Even I won’t be able to stop them.”

“You say that every time,” you murmured, your voice softer now. “And yet you still open the window.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he held you tighter, his body warm against yours — so very alive.

“You reek of blood again,” he mumbled after a pause, pulling back just enough to study your face. His brows furrowed. “You fed tonight, didn’t you?”

You shrugged with an unapologetic smirk. “I was hungry. I kept it clean.”

Lucien’s jaw tightened. “We’ve talked about this. I told you not to kill anymore. You promised.”

You glanced away, briefly. “I’m trying, Lucien. But I’m still a Ghoul.”

He reached up and gently cupped your cheek, thumb brushing against your cold skin. “I know what you are. I just hate being reminded of what the world will do to you.”

Your eyes glowed brighter in the candlelight — molten red, dangerous, inhuman. And yet his touch never wavered.

“You wish I wasn’t a monster?”

“I wish the world didn’t call you that,” he whispered. “But if you are a monster… then you’re mine.”

With those words, Lucien leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. You let your head rest against his chest, listening to the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat — something you could never have again.

As you settled beside him on the bed, the candle’s light danced over your intertwined hands — his warm and trembling, yours cold and steady.

In a world that would never allow it, you found warmth in the arms of the prince raised to kill you.

And still, every night… he opened the window.