The train came to a slow halt at the station, and Lucien and Evelyn stepped onto the platform, expecting ruins—an abandoned, war-torn ghost town left in history's shadow. Instead, they were met with something entirely different.
The city was alive.
Bustling streets, well-maintained buildings, people walking around with easy smiles—it was nothing like what Lucien had imagined. He stood still for a moment, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings as if trying to find a crack in the illusion.
"This place… it's not destroyed." His voice was low, but Evelyn caught the trace of disbelief in it.
Evelyn stepped beside him, tilting her head in curiosity. "It's not just 'not destroyed'—it looks completely untouched."
Lucien narrowed his eyes. Then why did I believe it was gone?
Something wasn't adding up, but for now, they had one goal—find out anything about the Falkner name.
---
They started asking around, splitting up to cover more ground.
Lucien approached a few shopkeepers, keeping his words direct and minimal. The name Falkner didn't ring any immediate bells. Evelyn, on the other hand, had a more charming approach—chatting casually with locals, slipping in questions with effortless ease.
After a while, they regrouped at a small café on the corner of a busy street.
Evelyn stirred her iced coffee with a straw. "Well, apparently, there was some kind of 'cleansing' here about twelve years ago. A shift in power that erased some family names. Could be why no one remembers the Falkners."
Lucien, arms crossed, leaned back in his chair. His fingers tapped lightly against the table, deep in thought. "Someone remembers. We just haven't found them yet."
Evelyn sipped her drink, watching him. His jaw was clenched ever so slightly—a sign that something was bothering him deeply.
She reached out, placing her hand lightly over his. "We'll find the answers, Lucien."
He looked at her, his expression unreadable, but for a moment, his hand didn't pull away.
---
After a long afternoon of searching, Evelyn suddenly grabbed his wrist.
"Come on."
Lucien raised an eyebrow. "Where?"
"You need a break. And I need to make you look less like someone attending a funeral."
Before he could protest, she dragged him into an upscale boutique.
The store had an old-money aesthetic—high ceilings, warm lighting, and classical music playing softly in the background. Evelyn's eyes scanned the racks before plucking out a beige button-up shirt and a tailored coat.
She held them up against Lucien. "This. Try it on."
Lucien looked at her, unimpressed. "No."
"Yes."
"No."
Evelyn crossed her arms. "Lucien, if you don't try this on, I swear I will pick something even brighter just to see you suffer."
Lucien exhaled slowly, then snatched the clothes from her hands. "Fine."
When he stepped out of the dressing room, Evelyn's teasing smirk faltered.
The beige shirt fit him perfectly, complementing his sharp features. The coat added an elegant touch, making him look more like an heir to some prestigious family rather than a battle-hardened soldier.
Evelyn stared for a moment before smiling. "Well, damn. I might have just created a problem for myself."
Lucien adjusted the sleeves, feeling slightly out of place. "Can I change back now?"
"Nope."
He sighed but didn't argue.
---
They ended up at a quiet rooftop restaurant, overlooking the city.
Lucien leaned back in his chair, gazing at the skyline. The evening lights reflected in his silver eyes, making them look softer than usual. Evelyn, resting her chin on her hand, watched him instead.
"You know," she said playfully, "if I didn't know any better, I'd think we were on a date."
Lucien gave her a glance. "We're not?"
Evelyn blinked. "Oh?"
Lucien took a sip of his drink, his expression unreadable. But then, ever so subtly, the corner of his lips lifted.
Evelyn felt her heartbeat quicken. It was rare—so rare—to catch Lucien in a moment like this.
The warmth of the dim lights, the quiet hum of the city below, the unspoken understanding between them—everything about this moment felt unreal.
Lucien looked at her, and for once, there was no coldness, no guarded expression—just him.
She leaned forward slightly. "You should smile more."
Lucien tilted his head. "Why?"
"Because," Evelyn murmured, "it suits you."
Lucien didn't reply, but his gaze softened, lingering on her for a second longer than necessary.
---
As they walked down the street, the night air crisp around them, an elderly woman suddenly stopped in her tracks.
Her gaze locked onto Lucien, her expression unreadable.
"…You," she whispered.
Lucien's posture stiffened. "What?"
The woman stepped closer, her eyes searching his face as if confirming something.
"You look just like him."
Lucien's pulse quickened. "Like who?"
The woman's lips pressed into a thin line. "If you're looking for the Falkners… go to the northern district. Ask for the old archives."
Before they could ask more, the woman turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Lucien stood still, Evelyn beside him.
She placed a hand on his arm, grounding him. "We have our next lead."
Lucien exhaled slowly, then glanced down at his bright, elegant attire.
"…Can I change back now?"
Evelyn smirked. "Absolutely not."
For the first time in a long while, Lucien let out a quiet chuckle.
And for tonight, just for tonight, he let himself enjoy the warmth of her presence.
---
[To be continued…]
End of Chapter 53.