Dear diary, my name is Maekal Blackthorne. I am a demon, and this is my story. Four hundred years have passed since I became what I am. In those centuries, I watched the world change so completely that sometimes it feels like I am the only remnant of something ancient and forgotten. Humans evolved, their beliefs shifted, and slowly the truth faded into legend. Magic became nothing more than a myth whispered to children before bedtime. Demons turned into fictional monsters used to scare the young into obedience. Gods, angels, and divinity itself were reduced to stories written in old books that no one truly believed anymore. The mighty Valemont Kingdom still stands proud, its banners flying high, but it is no longer a land of spells and sacred bloodlines. It has become a kingdom of swords and chivalry, of laws and equality. Nobles cannot do as they please anymore. Even the king must bow to the law. Justice does not care about crowns or titles. In the Royal Academy, nobles and commoners sit side by side as equals. The world believes demons no longer exist, and perhaps that belief is what keeps them sleeping peacefully at night.
It was the year 1800 when everything began to shift again. "Evelyn, come fast! We're going to be late for class!" Maria called out, her voice echoing through the academy hallway. "I'm coming!" Evelyn replied, hurrying to catch up. As she approached the admission area, she noticed a strange tension in the air. Students who were usually loud and carefree were whispering instead, their eyes fixed on one person standing near the admission desk. A tall boy stood there calmly, speaking to the administrator as if he were unaware of the attention surrounding him. His posture was straight, his presence quiet yet commanding. There was something about him that made it difficult to look away. "Who is that guy?" Evelyn asked Maria softly. "New admission?" Maria replied, squinting slightly. "All I can see is his handsome back." Evelyn tried to get a better look, curiosity blooming inside her.
When they reached class, Katherine was already waiting with an excited expression. "Did you see that hot guy?" she asked dramatically. Evelyn and Maria nodded. Katherine smiled proudly and announced, "His name is Maekal Blackthorne. From the Blackthorne family. Probably from a branch family since we've never seen him at noble gatherings. He's a new admission, likely a Gemini, and I bet his favorite food is chicken." Maria stared at her in disbelief. "You figured that out just by looking at him?" Katherine tilted her head with confidence. "No, I secretly asked the admission office." Evelyn and Maria exchanged looks before laughing. "You're really great, Duchess Katherine," they admitted. Katherine, being from a duke house, was well known among nobles for her intelligence and curiosity.
As they continued talking, Evelyn noticed her younger brother Eren walking past the corridor. He looked dull, his movements sluggish, and something about his expression felt wrong. Without saying much, she excused herself and followed him. She pushed open the male washroom door and grabbed his hand firmly. When she forced him to look at her, her heart sank at the sight of his red eyes. "You took that damn potion again, didn't you?" she demanded angrily, though fear laced her voice. "I didn't take it," Eren replied defensively. "Don't lie to me," she snapped. "You're ruining yourself and spoiling our family name." Eren pulled away from her grip. "Leave me alone!" he shouted before storming out. Evelyn called his name and hurried after him, only to crash into someone. Strong hands caught her before she fell. "I'm sorry," a calm voice said. "I thought this was the male bathroom." She looked up and froze. It was the new admission student, Maekal Blackthorne. Her face turned bright red instantly. "No, no, wait—don't think weird! I was just here for my brother. He was acting strange so I followed him," she explained nervously, stumbling over her words. Maekal simply replied, "It's okay," in a soft, steady voice. The silence that followed made her even more embarrassed. "You trust me, right?" she asked impulsively. "Yes," he answered without hesitation. That single word made her heart skip, and she quickly excused herself, mentally wishing she could disappear from existence.
Later, the professor announced that a new student would be joining them and asked everyone to welcome Maekal Blackthorne. Evelyn felt her cheeks heat up again when he entered the classroom. The professor assigned her to help him catch up on missed lessons. When Katherine mentioned that Evelyn was the princess of Valemont, Maekal seemed surprised. He apologized politely if he had offended her, but Evelyn quickly dismissed it, explaining that princess was just a title now and that nobles were no different from anyone else. In this era, equality had replaced privilege, and the academy treated all students the same.
Days passed, and gradually Evelyn and Maekal grew closer. Their conversations became easier, more natural. But peace never lasts long. One day, a student rushed into class shouting that Eren was fighting Tyler, the strongest student in the academy. Evelyn ran to the grounds with panic in her chest, Maekal following closely. She arrived to see her brother being beaten mercilessly. Maekal stepped in to stop the fight, but in his anger, Eren pulled out a pocket knife and tried to stab Tyler. Maekal blocked him, and the blade clearly sliced across his arm. Evelyn saw it happen. She rushed to him in horror, grabbing his arm to check the wound. But there was nothing there. No cut, no blood, not even a scratch. "He missed," Maekal said calmly. But Evelyn was certain she had seen the knife connect. Confusion and unease settled deep within her.
That night, when Maekal returned to the Blackthorne estate, he found his nephew Enzo, waiting for him inside the grand hall. The atmosphere felt tense, almost suffocating, as if the walls themselves knew something was wrong. Enzo's expression was serious, his eyes filled with worry and suspicion. Without wasting a single word, he held up a newspaper in front of Maekal. The headline reported that an unknown animal had slaughtered an entire family in the forest. The details were brutal. No survivors. No clear explanation.
Maekal's eyes scanned the page briefly before he looked up, his face unreadable. "It wasn't me," he said immediately, his voice calm but firm. There was no hesitation in his denial. Enzo studied him carefully. As the current head of the Blackthorne family, he knew the truth about Maekal. It was a secret passed down only to each family head — a forbidden truth that could never be revealed to the outside world. Demons were not myths. And Maekal was living proof.
"Then who did this?" Enzo asked quietly, fear creeping into his voice. The possibility unsettled him. If it wasn't Maekal, then something else was out there. Something dangerous.
Maekal didn't answer. Silence stretched between them. He simply said, "I'm here to live a normal life."
Enzo let out a bitter, almost hopeless laugh. "A normal life? I'm sorry… but that's impossible for you Uncle." His words were not cruel — they were painfully honest. No matter how much time passed, Maekal could never truly be human.
Later that night, a loud crash echoed through the mansion, shattering the uneasy quiet. Something broke downstairs. Maekal moved instantly, his senses sharpening as he rushed toward the sound. When he reached the lower hall, he froze. A maid lay dead on the cold marble floor, her body motionless, blood staining the tiles beneath her. For a brief second, something flickered across his expression — anger, frustration, maybe even guilt. He stepped forward, kneeling slightly as if to check her, though he already knew she was gone.Before he could fully process the sight, before anger or guilt could settle into something solid, a voice broke through the silence—smooth, familiar, and laced with amusement. "Hello, brother."
Maekal turned slowly, already knowing who he would see. Kael stood there, his red hair catching the dim light, a chilling smile curving his lips as if this were all nothing more than a game. There was no regret in his eyes, no hesitation—only quiet satisfaction. "Why are you here?" Maekal asked, his voice controlled but tight with restrained fury. Kael didn't answer with words. In a sudden blur of movement, he was in front of him, his hand wrapping around Maekal's throat and lifting him effortlessly off the ground. His grip tightened, fingers pressing into his skin as he leaned closer. "You've grown weak," Kael whispered mockingly, his tone almost disappointed. "Is this what four hundred years have done to you?" Maekal struggled against his hold, but Kael's strength was overwhelming. When he was finally released, he dropped to the floor, steadying himself as he glared upward.
"The family in the newspaper," Maekal said through clenched teeth, anger burning behind his eyes. "You killed them." Kael tilted his head slightly, pretending to consider the accusation before shrugging with infuriating calm. "Maybe." The casual way he said it made it worse—human lives reduced to a passing thought. Rage surged through Maekal, and he attacked without hesitation, but Kael moved effortlessly, dodging, countering, striking with brutal precision. Within moments, Maekal was forced back again, overpowered, reminded painfully of the difference between them.
Then, as suddenly as the violence began, Kael's expression shifted into something almost playful. He extended his hand as if nothing had happened. "Come outside." Confused but wary, Maekal followed him into the open night. The air was cool, the sky dark and quiet above them. Kael picked up a ball lying in the yard and tossed it toward him with an easy motion. "Let's play catch," he said lightly. "Like old times." For a moment, the scene looked almost normal—two brothers standing beneath the stars, throwing a ball back and forth. But nothing about it was normal. Every throw felt like a challenge. Every catch carried unspoken tension. Years of resentment hung between them heavier than the night air.
After a while, Kael's voice softened slightly, losing its teasing edge. "If you keep living like this—pretending to be human, denying what you are—you're going to die." The words were not a threat, but a statement. Maekal caught the ball and held it tightly, his jaw tightening as bitterness rose in his chest. "That would make you happy, wouldn't it?" he replied coldly. "You always hated me." For a fleeting second, something unreadable flickered in Kael's eyes, but it vanished just as quickly beneath another smile. And in that quiet darkness, it became painfully clear that this was never just about survival. It was about a bond twisted by centuries of resentment. No matter how far Maekal tried to run from what he was, Kael would always be there—to remind him.
The next morning, Evelyn arrived at the Blackthorne house with a small stack of books held carefully against her chest, her heart beating just a little faster than usual. She told herself she was only there to help him with lessons, nothing more. The front door appeared slightly open, so she stepped inside hesitantly, calling out softly. The mansion felt too quiet, the silence stretching unnaturally through the tall ceilings and empty halls. A sudden click echoed behind her. She turned sharply. The door was now closed. And standing far too close to her was a red-haired stranger.
Kael stood only inches away, close enough that she could feel his presence before she fully processed his face. His eyes studied her with unsettling intensity, as if she were something fascinating and fragile at the same time. Evelyn instinctively stepped back, her pulse quickening. "I—I'm sorry," she said nervously. "The door was open, so I came in. I'm here for Maekal." Her voice betrayed her unease, though she tried to remain polite. Kael's lips curved into a slow, controlled smile. "He's upstairs," he replied smoothly. "And you are?" She straightened slightly despite the tension in her chest. "I'm Evelyn… his classmate." There was a brief pause before he introduced himself. "Kael. Maekal's brother." Brother? The word caught her off guard. Maekal had never mentioned having one. That realization lingered in her mind as they exchanged a few polite words, though something about him made her feel watched rather than welcomed.
Footsteps echoed from the staircase, and Maekal appeared. The moment his eyes landed on the scene before him—Evelyn standing near Kael—something shifted in his expression. It was subtle, but there. A tightening of his jaw. A darkness flickering behind calm eyes. "Evelyn," he said, almost too evenly, "I didn't know you were coming." She smiled lightly, unaware of the storm beneath his composure. "I brought the books I promised." The air between the brothers grew heavier, though she could not understand why.
When she turned to leave, Kael stepped forward with effortless charm. He gently took her hand and bowed slightly, pressing his lips against her knuckles in a gesture that was perfectly polite—and deliberately intimate. "It was a pleasure meeting you," he said softly. Evelyn felt her cheeks warm in embarrassment, caught off guard by the unexpected formality. She offered a small, awkward smile before stepping out of the mansion, unaware of the tension she left behind.
The moment the door closed, silence swallowed the room. Maekal's eyes remained fixed on where she had stood, anger simmering quietly beneath the surface. Kael noticed. He always noticed. "She's beautiful," Kael remarked casually, almost lazily, as if commenting on the weather. The words were deliberate, designed to provoke. Maekal said nothing, but his silence was sharper than any reply. Kael's gaze shifted, amusement flickering across his features. "You cleaned up the maid well," he added, his tone turning colder. "Efficient."
Before Maekal could respond, pain exploded through him. Without warning, Kael drove a blade straight into his stomach. The sound was sickeningly quiet compared to the violence of the act. Maekal inhaled sharply, his body tensing, but he did not cry out. Kael leaned closer, his voice lowering into something almost intimate. "If you stay this weak," he whispered, "you'll die soon." The blade twisted slightly before being pulled free. "Drink blood. Make contracts. Stop pretending to be human. You're not." His words were not advice—they were a reminder.
Kael stepped back as if nothing significant had happened, wiping the blade clean with casual indifference. "You can't outrun what you are," he added before turning away. Footsteps echoed through the hall as he walked off, leaving Maekal standing alone in the quiet mansion, blood slowly soaking into his clothes and dripping onto the marble floor. Maekal did not fall. He did not scream. He simply stood there, silent and still, the pain familiar, the message clear. No matter how much the world changed, no matter how desperately he tried to live differently, his past would always return—and it would always wear his brother's face.