Ken's hands shook as he played the video. It started out normally—he saw himself walking toward Lucien's table, the pad slipping from his fingers, his body swaying. But this time, the footage was different from the sanitized version at the restaurant.
Lucien's speed was unreal. It was too fast for a human, even for an elite athlete. He moved like a blurring motorbike, crossing the room in a fraction of a second. The pieces were finally adding up, and the picture they formed terrified Ken. Why would a man this powerful, this unnatural, find him interesting? The nightmares were too much; he couldn't bear the weight of the mystery anymore.
He dragged himself through his morning routine and headed to school. The day was a frantic blur of lectures, but as he headed toward a professor's office, he caught a glimpse of Lucien entering the bathroom. Ken didn't hesitate. He chased after him, slamming the door shut behind them. Lucien didn't flinch, acting as if he hadn't even noticed the intrusion, but Ken grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him against the tiled wall, pinning him there with both hands.
"What did I ever do to you? Why won't you leave me alone?" Ken asked, his voice breaking into a sob.
Lucien frowned in genuine confusion. While he had kept a close eye on the boy, he hadn't yet begun an active pursuit.
"I believe I have been doing a great job of avoiding you," Lucien said coldly, despite being pinned to the wall. "But you are the one currently touching me. That sounds like your problem, not mine."
"Don't play dumb with me, Lucien!" Ken shouted, tears finally spilling over. "The restaurant, the hospital bill, the jacket, the umbrella, the grocery store... you planned it all. I kept guessing, but the nightmares—they're the most unbearable part."
He let go of Lucien's shoulders, his strength vanishing into grief. "Please... my jobs are way too stressful. I can't afford these sleepless nights. I'm begging you."
Lucien looked genuinely baffled. Most of those events had been a series of coincidences or subtle divine interventions he couldn't fully explain, but the nightmares? Those weren't his doing.
"What do you mean by nightmares?" Lucien asked. "And what does that have to do with me?"
"If you don't know anything about it, then what is this?" Ken demanded, thrusting his phone forward to play Amy's video.
Lucien watched the screen. "That is me saving you. And though I didn't get a thank you, I'm curious how I am connected to all your other complaints. You seem to have the wrong person."
"Then tell me—why are you always wearing gloves? What are you hiding?" Ken asked, his eyes red and searching.
Before Lucien could respond, Ken reached out and snatched the gloves off Lucien's hands. He grabbed Lucien's bare skin, and for the first time, Lucien allowed a mortal to touch him out of sheer curiosity.
Ken stepped back, his face contorting with realization and fear. "It's you. The cold hands... the dark personality... the stench of death. It's you, Lucien. You're responsible for the nightmares. But why? Why are you doing this to me?" Ken began to cry again. "What did I do to deserve this?"
"You've been having nightmares?" Lucien asked, reaching out. He used his bare thumb to wipe a tear from Ken's cheek.
Ken flinched back the moment the cold skin touched his face, looking visibly traumatized by the contact. Lucien slowly dropped his hand.
"Describe these nightmares," Lucien commanded. "How do they feel? How often do they happen?"
Seeing the genuine curiosity in Lucien's eyes, Ken began to wonder if he had made a mistake. But if Lucien wasn't the one doing it, maybe he knew what was. Ken decided to tell him everything.
"I don't know... as soon as I close my eyes, a figure comes. It pins me to the bed. His cold hands move over my thighs and my chest. His kisses are intense... forceful. I wake up every morning sweating, my heart racing in a panic."
"Wait," Lucien said, his eyes narrowing. "Is that why you passed out at the restaurant?"
Ken wiped his eyes. "I didn't get any sleep that night. I woke up the moment it began, and I was too scared to go back to sleep."
Lucien went silent, his expression shifting into one of cold, murderous fury. Someone—or something—dares to cross my path and touch my prize? Who dares to commit such an atrocity? He looked at Ken. "If it is okay with you... I will stay at your place tonight. I may be able to determine exactly what is wrong."
Ken paused. He didn't want Lucien in his home. His apartment was tiny, the neighborhood was rough, and he wasn't ready for the gossip. "I have a job. I won't be home until midnight. It wouldn't be convenient for you, and my place... it doesn't match your tastes."
"Aesthetics do not bother me, and your neighbors will be asleep by midnight," Lucien replied. "As for the job, I will be there to pick you up. If you want your life back, we need to get to the bottom of this now."
"But—" Ken started.
Lucien placed a gloved hand over Ken's mouth, silencing him. "I will pick you up at the club at midnight. That is final."
Lucien dusted off his shoulders and walked out of the bathroom, leaving Ken frozen in place. Argh... this is a mess, Ken thought. But... maybe there's a way. I can't handle another night like the last one.
Midnight came quickly. As Ken walked out of the club, he saw the black SUV idling at the curb. Lucien was in the driver's seat this time. Ken stared at the vehicle; he had never been in a car this expensive, and now he was commuting with the "upper class." Lucien honked the horn, breaking Ken's trance, and Ken climbed into the front seat.
They arrived at Ken's home. It was small, but meticulously arranged—a single room with a tiny kitchen and bathroom. It was a humble, clean space.
Ken went to shower and then climbed into bed. He asked Lucien if he would be comfortable on the small couch; Lucien merely nodded. Exhausted, Ken fell into a deep sleep almost instantly.
Lucien picked up a book and began to read, but his senses were on high alert. Suddenly, he felt a cold, unnatural wind rattle the window. He sensed a strange, familiar energy approaching from the darkness. For some reason, the presence didn't come close to the house—as soon as it felt Lucien's aura, it vanished into the night.
Hades felt the residue of the energy. He knew it. He had sensed it before, centuries ago. It was one of his own. One of the twelve Patrons of Death was hunting his boy. The only question now was: which one?