Club Caelum was not marked on any map. Draped in velvet and obsidian, it stood like a temple for the unseen titans of the world. The government was a puppet show compared to the weight that moved behind these marble doors. Entry was by invitation only. No exceptions.
Inside, the scent of aged whiskey and power hung in the air. Crystal chandeliers glistened overhead, and every table glowed with subtle golden light. Titans of business, warlords in tailored suits, and monarchs without crowns lounged in silence, sipping from glasses worth more than most people's homes.
Tonight, however, attention was not on the usual elites. It was on John, Nora's elusive bodyguard. Word had spread like wildfire through the underworld: he had escaped Sebastian.
He hadn't needed to speak; his presence was a story. But when asked, he began to recount the tale, and Club Caelum fell into a hush.
He leaned back against the bar, the polished surface glinting under the lights. Every gaze in the room was tethered to him. In a world ruled by silence and innuendo, this was as close to a confession as they would ever get. His voice cut through the air like the clink of crystal.
"He's not what he once was," John said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "They've turned him into a glorified babysitter. Guarding a five-year-old girl."
There were murmurs—quiet, doubtful. Until he added, almost too softly, "She used my own technique against me. It was perfect even.."
That was when the silence became absolute. A few glasses stopped halfway to their lips. No one laughed. No one dismissed it. The weight of the statement fell across the room like a velvet guillotine. It was like a secret only some knew. John gave the rest of the story
Then spoke the final words that changed everything.
"He found me anyway. Left me a message… and his glove."
The room chilled. A silent panic settled beneath their perfectly tailored suits and diamond cufflinks. They had come here searching for Sebastian's weakness, perhaps hoping to dissect a myth. But now, they realized their mistake. If this was truly Sebastian's message, then John wasn't a survivor—he was bait. And if he was here…
The heavy iron doors of Club Caelum groaned open.
Footsteps followed—measured, deliberate. Slow as death.
The air turned still. No one moved. No one breathed. A story circulated once—only whispered—that he once cleared an entire room just by walking into it. No sound, no struggle. Just deadly poison. The kind that kills in a blink.
Then he emerged from the shadows, his presence like a knife against silk. He walked to the bar and sat down beside John without so much as a glance.
John froze.
"So," Sebastian said, voice calm, unbothered, "you left the villa without saying goodbye... and came here to tell the world I've become a babysitter?"
"I… I…" John stammered, the glass in his hand trembling.
Sebastian held out his hand. "I came to retrieve my glove."
Something primal kicked in. John's instincts fired—he turned, bolted, body reacting before his mind could catch up.
But the world twisted.
Sideways.
And then it stopped.
John saw the room spin, the floor rising. Only—it wasn't the floor. It was his head falling. His body took three steps before collapsing in a graceless heap.
Not a soul had seen Sebastian move.
He stood slowly, calm and collected, brushing nonexistent dust from his coat. "Do not be as foolish as him," he said simply, and turned toward the exit.
But before he could reach the door, he paused.
A quiet rhythm echoed—a finger tapping on wood, a foot on marble. Someone was sitting in the shadows, face hidden beneath a hood, posture casual yet perfectly still. There was something familiar in the timing. A rhythm, patient and unnerving.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
It reminded him of someone. A small, barefoot girl who`s only presence was recognized by her bear feet tapping along the corridors.
No… it couldn't be.
And yet he hadn't sensed this figure at all.
When he blinked—they were gone.
A strange chill brushed the back of his neck.
Sebastian left without a word.
A few minutes later, from the side door where shadows lingered, a young woman emerged. Silver hair cascading like moonlight and eyes the color of rubies. Face partially obscured by her coat's high collar. She looked at the bloodstained marble, then toward the seat where the Sebastian was seated. Even she would prefer not to fight him, even though it would have been a victory.
Her eyes gleamed with recognition, a calculating glint beneath long lashes.
"So," she whispered to herself, "the girl at the villa can use the Silent Ghoul…"
A thin smile crept across her lips.
"She might be the one I've been looking for."