Knock! Knock!
"Pardon me Lady Alina, Lord Noir has asked for your presence..."
The voice behind the door was gentle and polite, Alina thought her to be another maid.
The two maids, after hearing the voice, Just smiled at each other and bowed, signalling for Alina to take her leave.
She nodded, a bit nervous, and exited the room.
————————
Outside on the vast hallway, the Maid Bowed, "I will be escorting you, Lady Alina... My name is Alicia, I am One of Lord's Personal Maids."
Alina respectfully bowed.
Surprised, The maid laughed lightly.
"…?" Alina was a bit Taken aback at her laughter... "Is something wrong, Miss Alicia?"
"Please excuse my rudeness..." The maid said, in the same polite manner, and bowed... "There is nothing wrong, Lady Alina"
The maid smiled before composing herself. "Then? Shall we?" She said and started walking...
Alina followed her, Nervous and a bit scared.
—————————
The maid stopped infront of a large garden's entrace
'It's the same garden as yesterday...' She remembered.
"Please enter, Lady Alina, I was asked to leave you here..." The maid said, Bowing slightly. "I shall take my leave..."
And she disappeared in the long hallway...
Alina nodded and entered the garden...
"I... Couldn't quite make the garden out yesterday, since it was dark and my mind wasn't in a stable state. Now that I clearly see it, It's truly... Beautiful..." She almost seemed shocked as she muttered the word to herself.
She could have thought of better words, but that was the only one that came out...
Since it truly is.
The garden was vast, The ceiling was made of glass to let the sunlight in, the walls made of wood, giving a natural feel, the room was decorated full of different plants... Many of which she recognised from her childhood, And Some which she had only seen in picture books...
"I... never would have thought that such a garden is grown at the kingdom of darkness"
She said, doubting her own words...
In the middle of the garden was a unique fountain... The water came out of a coiled serpent dragon's mouth and made It shaped like a open cage...
The water cage surrounded a place that neatly resembled a tea spot from her memories...
She walked near it, and as she did, unsure of anything, she noticed a presence inside the odd structure...
The person seemed to have been reading, his face hid behind the book...
"... So, you're finally here..." A cold voice said.
It was his, She could easily recognise... Although she couldn't remember his face, the voice of his couldn't be mistaken...
She stopped in her tracks, Anxiety rushed in her head.
The pressure was a bit too much for her, Her fingers visibly trembled, Instinctively clutching her skirt.
The man closed the book, And headed towards Alina...
She half expected to see horns on his forehead, and sharp ears and long canines like fangs, or something that matched the rumours surrounding him, but her expectations were just completely shattered....
As he stepped through the falling veil of the fountain, the water curved around him, refracting sunlight into prismatic halos. The droplets never touched him—almost as if they feared him, or perhaps obeyed him. The sound of water and wind stilled.
And then she saw him.
Her breath hitched, caught between wonder and fear.
There were no horns, no monstrous features like the rumors had whispered. No blood-stained cloak or demonic grin. Instead, the man who stepped forth looked... human.
Strikingly so.
He was tall, commanding without effort. Midnight-black hair fell to his shoulders in loose, silken strands. His eyes— Pure Crimson, but not evil.
The looked menacing. The felt cold. They were calculating...
But not cruel.
His skin was fair like moonlight, contrasted sharply by the rich, dark robes he wore. The high collar framed his elegant neck, and golden embroidery shimmered along the sleeves—patterns that looked like constellations and swirling shadows.
Alina found herself staring.
Noir stopped a few paces away, watching her in silence. Not unkindly. Not welcoming either.
Merely... watching.
She quickly looked down and bowed instinctively, hiding her face. "L-Lord…"
A beat of silence passed. She could feel his gaze, but it was unreadable. Heavy.
"You are more polite than most nobles I've met," he said softly, the chill in his voice less pronounced now. "Even in chains."
She hesitated. "I… It felt proper."
"Hm."
He stepped past her slowly, and as he did, the very air around him felt like it shifted—thickened. The subtle shimmer of shadows trailed behind him like mist under moonlight.
He gestured, wordless.
Alina followed.
They walked inside the falling dome of the fountain, where a table of deep, polished wood awaited, already set with steaming tea and a delicate spread of fruits and pastries. There were no servants.
Noir raised his hand lazily.
Shadows coiled from his sleeve like smoke, slithering toward the teapot. They lifted it as if it weighed nothing, tilted it with precision, and poured the amber liquid into two porcelain cups.
The shadows retreated without a sound.
Alina could only stare.
He didn't acknowledge her surprise. He slid one of the cups toward her with a slight motion of his finger. The shadows obeyed again.
She took it with both hands, carefully. Their fingers didn't touch.
Noir leaned back slightly in his chair, not relaxed just... still.
"I've had you brought here for a reason," he said, voice neutral.
She blinked, confused. "If I may, is it Because I healed your soldier…?" She asked as calm as she could, bur her hesitant voice clearly betrayed her.
"That was a detail," he said.
The way he dismissed it made her blink again.
"I've seen thousands kill, and thousands heal. That's not rare." He looked toward the garden wall, as if speaking to no one. "But you—what you did wasn't instinct. It was defiance. A broken girl… who still chose to save a life."
He turned his gaze back to her, sharp as a blade.
"That is dangerous."
Alina stiffened, unsure if he meant it as praise or threat.
"There are two kinds of light in this world," he continued. "One that flickers and dies when crushed. And one that blinds the hand trying to extinguish it."
He lifted the teacup to his lips, then paused.
"I do not allow threats to live. Nor do I waste what is valuable." He let A quiet breath. "I'm still deciding which you are."
Alina couldn't reply. Her throat tightened. She looked down into her tea, the reflection of the glass ceiling wavering in it.
"And until I decide," Noir said, "you will not wear chains in my place."
Her eyes widened—but she said nothing.
A long silence settled between them, filled only by the soft sound of water.
Then—
"You are free to speak. For now," he said. "Do not mistake that as an invitation. I simply dislike silence more than unnecessary words."
She looked at him again. Not directly into his eyes—but at least up from the table.
"Then… what should I call you?" she asked, quietly.
Noir's gaze was unreadable. "You will not speak my name."
A beat of silence.
Alina nodded quickly. "Yes… My Lord."
His eyes flicked to her again. Then away.
She noticed his tea remained untouched. Perhaps he didn't even intend to drink it.
Just then, the shadows at his feet stirred faintly—whispering shapes, unseen by most, shifting like restless smoke.
Alina felt it. Not saw it. But deep in her bones, she sensed it.
Something—or many things—watched her from the corners of the room. Hidden within his shadow. Dozens, maybe more.
And yet, she realized with a chill, they weren't watching her out of curiosity.
They were waiting.
For him.
For his command.
She gripped her cup tighter.
Noir finally moved again, setting his cup down without drinking. He stood. The water dome rippled faintly.
"You may remain here for now," he said. "Observe. Breathe. Rest if you will"
He turned away, shadows curling around his feet.
Then, pausing, he added without looking back:
"Do not mistake kindness for safety."
And with that, Noir vanished into the falling water, leaving Alina in a garden far more alive than she ever imagined… and far more dangerous than she could yet comprehend.
"Sigh!" She almost felt as though she escaped death....
The garden was quiet again.
Noir had disappeared into the shadows as effortlessly as a breeze vanishes into the night. The sound of water from the fountain returned, gentler now, like a lullaby just barely audible.
Alina remained seated.
Her fingers still trembled slightly around the porcelain cup. It had gone cold in her hands, though she hadn't noticed until now.
'That is dangerous.'
His words echoed louder now in the silence than when he had said them aloud.
Dangerous…?
She had saved a man's life. That's all.
Hadn't she?
She closed her eyes.
No, not just that. She had healed someone she didn't know.
She had acted on instinct, not self-preservation. She had risked herself In the place of a man she barely understood.
And that, she now understood, was what he had meant.
Not dangerous because she was violent or rebellious.
But because she hadn't broken.
Because she still had choice.
A different kind of threat.
Noir ruled a kingdom not with brute force, but with a quiet, unshakable presence. With precision. Calculation. Shadows followed him not just in form, but in obedience.
And in that kingdom, a flicker of light with a mind of its own could burn through carefully drawn lines. Light that wasn't screaming, or begging, or blind—but calm, knowing, choosing to shine—was far more dangerous than a sword.
Alina finally set the cup down with care, placing it where the steam had long stopped rising.
She glanced at the table again.
Everything had been prepared ahead of her arrival. There had been no wait, no delay, no command barked through a servant. He hadn't even looked at the tray or checked the setting.
Because he knew.
Everything was already as he wanted it to be.
The thought sent a new shiver down her spine.
A man like that… he didn't make decisions on whim. Even his silences had weight.
And yet… he'd freed her from chains.
Not out of kindness. Not mercy.
'I'm still deciding which you are.'
Those words were as much a warning as they were an invitation. She had not been accepted. Not yet. She had been seen.
Seen clearly—too clearly.
'I do not allow threats to live. Nor do I waste what is valuable.'
So now, she was balanced on that edge. The in-between.
Alina took a deep breath and slowly rose to her feet. Her legs felt stiff—partly from the cold, but more from the truth now settling in her bones.
She wasn't a guest.
She was under observation.
From the shadows.
From him.
Her eyes turned toward the corners of the garden. At first, she saw nothing—just flowers, sunlight, elegant beams of wood stretching toward the glass ceiling. But now, her mind was awake.
She didn't see the assassins. But she felt them.
The absence of sound where there should be birds. The subtle vibration of breath too well-trained to be natural. The tension of air in places it shouldn't exist.
She was being watched.
But not with suspicion.
No, it was worse.
She was being watched like a thread that might snap.
Or spark.
Alina stepped away from the table, her eyes now catching more of the details around her. The plants. The distant shimmer of magical runes etched into the wooden walls—so faint, so subtle, she had to squint to see them. Were they illusions? Or protective sigils?
She didn't know.
This garden—so beautiful—was still a cage.
But unlike the slave pens, this cage had silk ropes and sweet tea. It used beauty instead of fear.
And that, too, was dangerous.
As she walked toward one of the flowering trees, she let her fingers gently brush its bark.
'Why let me live? Why unchain me? Why speak to me at all?'
She didn't dare ask aloud.
But a part of her knew the answer.
Because Noir, Lord of Darkness, Ruler of Shadows—didn't need to hurt her to break her.
He could offer her freedom.
And if she took it… and trusted it… and later betrayed that trust?
That would be her true death.
She pressed her hand flat against the tree's surface, grounding herself. The warmth of the wood beneath her palm reminded her of home. Her real home. Long gone.
For now… she would breathe.
Observe. Like he said.
Watch him as he watched her.
And maybe, just maybe… understand the man behind the cold voice and the obedient shadows.
Even if it meant risking everything.
———————————
Beyond the glass ceiling, clouds drifted lazily, dimming the sunlight for a fleeting moment.
A veil of silence fell upon the garden once more.
But in the space between the light and the leaves—where no human eye could reach—a shadow stirred.
Noir stood, half-veiled in the gloom of a narrow balcony hidden behind a veil of enchanted flora. He hadn't moved for minutes. Perhaps longer.
His gaze had never left her.
Not when she touched the tree.
Not when her fingers trembled over the porcelain cup.
Not even when she thought she was alone.
He watched, not as a predator, but as something colder.
More calculating.
In his presence, the air itself seemed to hush. The shadows clung to him like loyal hounds, barely visible yet deeply present—draped along the edges of his cloak, nestling into the folds of his coat.
He did not blink.
He did not fidget.
He merely watched.
Then, from the blackness behind him, a voice emerged—low, reverent, careful.
"My Lord."
Noir didn't turn.
The voice belonged to one of his inner shadows. A master of silence, present even when dismissed, loyal enough to speak only when certain he would not be silenced for it.
A man whose name no one spoke aloud anymore.
The assassin knelt behind him, head bowed low.
"My Lord… if I may ask—"
"You may," Noir said flatly, gaze still trained on Alina.
There was a slight intake of breath.
"Your decision to unchain her… some of us remain… uncertain."
Noir's eyes narrowed. Not angrily.
Thoughtfully.
He did not speak immediately.
And the assassin knew better than to fill the silence.
Finally, Noir turned his head—just slightly, enough to let the edge of one silver eye meet the man beneath him.
"Uncertainty is natural."
The assassin did not raise his head.
"She is not what the others expected," Noir added, tone as even as a blade being drawn across silk. "Nor what I expected."
"Then… is she a threat, my Lord?"
Noir's gaze returned to the garden.
Alina had now moved toward a bed of small moonlilies. Her fingers traced their pale petals gently, as if touching something holy.
"A broken creature can be predicted," Noir murmured. "A fearful one can be controlled. But that...?"
He let the thought trail off.
The assassin waited.
"Compassion... in a place meant to break it," Noir said at last, the faintest flicker of tension in his voice. "Even if foolish, that kind of spirit does not grow in darkness by chance."
"She could be dangerous," the assassin said carefully.
"She is," Noir confirmed.
The assassin's breath caught.
But then Noir turned—fully, slowly—and looked his shadow in the eye.
"But not because she wields power. Or influence. Or ambition."
He walked past the assassin, his steps so silent they seemed not to touch the ground.
"She is dangerous," Noir said, "because she has no idea what her powers are..."
His cloak brushed over the stone, as if it were mist...
"And people who stand in between," he added, voice lower now, "can tip the entire scale."
The assassin remained kneeling, even after his master was gone.
Not from fear.
From reverence.
Because in Noir's silence, there had been a decision.
And in his words, a warning.