Lucien woke to the faint smell of ash and candle wax, though there was no flame in his room. His hand slid across the other side of the bed — empty. Corin was gone. He hadn't left so much as a note, not even the sound of a door closing when he slipped out.
Lucien sat there for a while, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The memory of last night — the talk of daemons and contracts — pressed down on his mind like a weight. He should not think too deeply about it. He already had enough whispers gnawing at his sanity from the wraith-touched; he didn't need the thought of unseen pacts binding men to devouring spirits. Still, the thought slithered in, unwelcome:
If Corin was bound… what about me?
He shook his head, pulled on his coat, and left for the factory.
---
The day was heavy. When Lucien stepped through the iron gates of the factory yard, he felt it before he saw it — the way stares clung to him. The workers stopped hammering, stopped hauling, stopped muttering about their wages. Their gazes trailed after him as though he carried a mark on his back.
A fellow worker, face pale and lips tight, leaned toward him. "Boss… wants you. In the office."
Lucien nodded once. He said nothing, but his thoughts stirred. The air was wrong.
---
He knocked and entered.
The sight made him pause.
The boss was on his knees. Not in authority, not in anger, but panting, forehead pressed to the dusty wooden floor. Sweat pooled on the ground beneath his palms. His body shook as though all strength had been bled from him.
And in the chair where the boss should have sat… was him.
The Lady Man.
The figure waved delicately at Lucien, a smile curving lips that looked too soft, too feminine for the frame they sat upon. Silken hair fell over one shoulder, perfumed, shimmering faintly in the light.
A flash of irritation crossed Lucien's face. He did not mask it — and the Lady Man noticed.
The boss dared not raise his head. He whispered something hoarse, a plea perhaps, but it died in the silence.
Lucien was motioned outside. The Lady Man rose, following at an unhurried pace.
When the door shut behind them, that soft, almost musical voice laced with venom spoke:
"I have come," the Lady Man said, "to make you mine. Not as a slave…" A pause, deliberate. The air itself seemed to tighten, pressing against Lucien's chest. "…but as my equal."
Lucien's jaw tightened. Inside, his thoughts spiraled. He had known since arriving in this world that people were fractured, lunatics lurking under polished masks. But this one? This one was not merely a lunatic. There was something else. A shimmer beneath the skin, a perfume that was not perfume, a pressure that urged the body to kneel without thinking.
It's not just him.
Something… feeds through him.
A daemon.
Lucien realized it then. The Lady Man's beauty was unnatural, weaponized. Men bowed because their essence was already being tugged away, offered to something that breathed behind his smile.
He felt it brush against him — a tendril of allure, a whisper of temptation that promised closeness, warmth, belonging.
Lucien's answer came, sharp and flat.
"No."
The air cracked.
---
For a heartbeat, silence reigned. No one said "no" to him. Not the workers, not the wealthy nobles who came to his club, not the men who had wasted away under his smile.
Lucien's refusal cut through that silence like steel.
The Lady Man tilted his head, lashes lowering, voice softening. "No?"
Lucien said nothing more. His eyes were steady. There was no tremble in them, no struggle against the pull. Just defiance.
That was when the Lady Man felt it — the crack in his daemon's hold. Men were supposed to falter, supposed to kneel. This one didn't. There was no sway of desire in him, only that cold distance.
Behind the Lady Man's smile, his daemon stirred. He could feel her whispering against the inside of his skull. This one resists. This one is dangerous. Take him. Break him. Or bind him.
But outwardly, he only laughed. Soft. Lilting. A sound that made workers outside the office walls shiver without knowing why.
"You truly are something, Lucien. Something I do not yet understand." He leaned closer, his perfume clinging like invisible chains. "And things I do not understand…" His smile widened. "…I cannot help but want."
Lucien didn't blink. "Then you'll suffer disappointment."
The Lady Man studied him for a long time, eyes narrowing, his daemon hungering behind them. Every fiber of his existence screamed that this man should not be allowed to walk away unclaimed. But still he waved his hand lightly, as though dismissing a servant.
"Go, then. But know this — resistance makes the chase sweeter. One day, you may find the allure harder to deny."
Lucien walked away without looking back.
The Lady Man's laughter followed him down the hall.