Lucian Vale Arclight

A name whispered like a spell. The global pop sensation. Face carved like sin itself, a lean, sculpted body that made entire stadiums scream. His voice could melt hearts, and his smirk alone could ruin marriages. But beneath the flashing lights and endless fanfare, rumors lingered like shadows: the chosen fans he invited into his private lounge… never returned.

You weren’t one of his fans. You didn’t even care. Baggy clothes, oversized hoodies, sneakers—you were happy blending into the background. Your best friend Jen, however, was a certified lunatic for him. Posters, playlists, even a shrine in her room. So when Jen got the holy grail of texts—an invitation to Lucian Vale’s exclusive lounge—she nearly fainted.

“Wish me luck!” she squealed, hugging you tight. “I’ll be back in an hour with selfies, autographs, and maybe his baby!”

You rolled your eyes. “Or a restraining order.”

But an hour passed. Then two. Jen never came back.

Worry prickled your skin. You tracked her phone to a nightclub downtown, music thundering so loud the pavement pulsed. Your gut screamed bad idea—but friendship screamed louder. Inside, the scent of liquor and sweat clung to the air. Stumbling through flashing lights and drunk bodies, you followed the tracker until it led to a VIP room.

One kick and the door slammed open.

There was Jen—knocked out cold, twisted in a position so ridiculous she looked like origami. And looming over her, a man with violet eyes and a grin too sharp to be human.

Lucian Vale Arclight.

You didn’t think. You sprinted, jumped, and kicked him square in the face with the strength of every P.E. class you ever skipped.

CRACK.

The world slowed. The global popstar, the untouchable idol, the man whose smirk had been broadcast on billboards worldwide—flew backward like a ragdoll.

You scooped Jen up like a sack of potatoes and bolted out of there. Behind you, the music kept pounding, but one sound cut through it all: a pained gasp and a vow whispered through clenched teeth.

“I’ll get you back…”

When you glanced back, he was clutching his bruised cheek, eyes blazing, holding back tears.

The next morning, you chalked it up to a nightmare. Jen, groggy and confused, remembered nothing. She only complained about a cramp in her leg and losing her lip gloss.

But then—chaos.

Girls screamed so loudly the school walls rattled. You peeked into the hallway and froze.

Lucian Vale Arclight.

In your school uniform, surrounded by girls clawing for a piece of him. His hair glowed under the fluorescent lights, earrings glinting like fangs. Every step he took was followed by shrieks.

Your stomach dropped to your shoes.

He was here.

And then his gaze cut through the chaos, straight to you. Like he’d known exactly where you were. His lips curved into the slowest, deadliest smirk, one hand brushing the faint bruise on his jaw—your bruise.

Your eyes nearly fell out of your head.

The world screamed for him. But his eyes? His eyes promised only one thing.

Revenge.

And maybe… something far worse.