Novels by Midnight blues

By the time Praise returned to the Loperse Estate, the rain had intensified into a steady downpour. Water cascaded from the eaves, collecting itself in dark pools along the gravel driveway.He stepped out of the car and paused beneath the covered entrance, staring up at the mansion that rose against the stormy sky.Everything looked exactly as it had that morning—perfect, controlled, and untouchable. The marble columns still gleamed under the outdoor lights. The windows still reflected the estate’s carefully maintained image of power.Yet Praise now knew better. Something was wrong, not only with Dylan, but the entire carefully constructed world surrounding Aurelius Luxe.He entered through the main doors. The sudden quiet of the interior felt almost unnatural after the noise of the rain. Nora appeared immediately and took his wet coat with practiced efficiency.“Mr. Renard,” she carefully said. “You’re back earlier than expected.”“Mr. Loperse is staying at the company for now.” Nora

The rest of the afternoon passed under a strained silence.Praise remained in the outer office, organizing schedules and answering the few calls Dylan allowed him to handle. Every time the private door opened, he felt Dylan’s gaze land on him and stay a fraction too long.The easy confidence Praise had carried since arriving at the mansion was gone. In its place was a careful, measured stillness.He had made a mistake, a serious one as that.After the final meeting ended, Dylan dismissed the remaining staff with a single look. The executive floor emptied quickly, only the two of them remained.Dylan stood by the window, with hands fixed in his pockets as he watched the rain streak down the glass. “Come here.”Praise walked over and stopped just a few feet away. But Dylan did not turn.“You handled that file like someone who already knew what was inside it,” He quietly said. “I reacted the way anyone would when they see a name they recognize.”“Most people don’t recognize a terminated

The executive floor of Aurelius Luxe was quieter than the rest of the building, but the silence carried weight.Assistants moved quickly between offices; their voices instinctively dropped the moment Dylan appeared. When the elevator doors opened, Praise felt the old atmosphere settle around him like a familiar coat.This was the floor Vanel Lense spent seven years trying to prove himself. And now, he walked down its halls under a different name.“Stay close.” Dylan moved ahead without looking back.“Yes, sir.” Praise followed him into the private office.The next hour found him organizing documents while Dylan worked, answering calls and signing papers with the same controlled precision that had once decided Vanel’s fate. Everything in the room remained unchanged; from the black marble, to the enormous windows overlooking the rainy city, and the company insignia behind the CEO’s desk.Only he had changed.Dylan eventually looked up. “You’ve been quiet.”“I was instructed not to spea

The morning brought heavy rain showers that turned the city streets into dark mirrors. The black luxury car glided smoothly through the wet roads, heading toward Aurelius Luxe headquarters.Praise sat in the back seat beside Dylan, the silence between them thick enough to cut with a knife. Last night’s confrontation still hung in the air like lingering smoke. Dylan had not mentioned the confidential file again, but the occasional sharp glance he directed at him made it painfully clear.The suspicion had not faded.Praise kept his expression carefully blank, though his pulse remained unsteady. One careless word the night before had nearly exposed everything. He had stood in that office with the report in his hands and almost destroyed the carefully constructed identity of Praise Renard.Dylan finally broke the silence, voice low and controlled.“You seemed… interested in Vanel Lense last night.” He slightly turned his head. “It was an unusual name. And the report looked serious.”“It w

The clock on Dylan’s office wall read 11:47 P.M.The mansion had fallen completely silent. Only the occasional patter of rain against the tall windows broke the quiet.Praise stood near the large mahogany desk, carefully organizing the final stack of documents. His fingers moved with practiced precision, but his mind was elsewhere.Dylan had been working for hours without pause. His jacket lay discarded over the back of his chair, with the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong, veined forearms. Even exhausted, Dylan Loperse radiated power, quiet, controlled, and impossible to ignore.Praise had spent the last three hours trying not to stare at him. Yet he kept failing miserably.“You’re staring,” Dylan said, his eyes still fixed on the contract in front of him.“I wasn’t,” Praise calmly replied.Dylan’s pen stopped moving, slowly he lifted his gaze. Those cold gray eyes locked onto him with unnerving intensity. “You were.”“Perhaps you should focus o

Praise Renard was awake long before dawn.The digital clock on his bedside table glowed 5:12 A.M. He had barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, the same memories resurfaced: cold gray eyes, an unreadable expression, and a calm voice that had dismantled his entire world with three devastating words.“You’re fired.”Praise stared at the ceiling, breathing slowly. Seven months had passed since Vanel Lense had been erased from existence. Yet those words still echoed as sharply as they had on that humiliating night under the bright lights.He sat up and whispered to the empty room, “Not today.” Today was not about the past but rather marked the true beginning of his revenge.By six-thirty, the mansion was already stirring with quiet efficiency. The aroma of fresh bread emerged from the oven, coffee beans were ground by hand, coupled by the rich aroma of butter and roasted coffee filled the air.“You really are an early riser.” Nora looked up as Praise entered and smiled“I couldn’t s

Silence consumed the ruined chapel. No one moved or spoke.Diago’s crimson eyes remained fixed on the black envelope in his gloved hand. Across the front, written in elegant silver ink, were three impossible words:FOR KRYSTAL LINSEYKrystal’s heartbeat thundered in his ears. “…That’s impossible.” His voice came out barely above a whisper. No one in this world should know that name, absolutely no one.Diago slowly turned toward him. “Krystal…” It was the first time the alpha had spoken the unfamiliar name aloud.“…Who is Krystal Linsey?” The question cracked something open inside him.Krystal instinctively stepped back, words failed him. How could he explain that he wasn’t the real Caspian? That he had died in another world? That everything around them had once been fiction?He would sound insane. Worse, he would become the greatest threat in the empire.Elias watched him in silence. Unlike Diago, he asked nothing. His golden eyes simply studied Krystal’s face, as though waiting to se

The words Project Caspian refused to leave Krystal’s mind.Even hours after the last embers of the fire had been extinguished, he stood in the courtyard staring at the half-burned document still clutched in Diago’s hand. The ink looked old—years old. Someone had been watching Caspian Vale long before Krystal ever woke up inside this body.A slow chill crawled down his spine.The Vale Estate no longer felt like a home.Every servant was questioned, every knight searched and every room inspected. No one was allowed to leave. Meals arrived under armed guard and the grand corridors that once echoed with quiet conversation now carried only the heavy footsteps of soldiers.It had become a fortress under siege. Diago sat in the strategy room in silence, With the burned document lying on the table beside Mira Page’s silver key, the fragment of military cloth, and the black serpent pendant. Every clue they had collected over the past week rested there as well. Yet none of them fit cleanly tog

The eastern wing of the Vale Estate vanished beneath a wall of black smoke.Flames climbed the tall windows, devouring the ancient archives that had stood for generations. Burning papers spiraled into the night sky like dying birds while servants ran in every direction, shouting over the roar.“Bring water!” “Move away from the eastern wing!” “Protect the main residence!” Chaos consumed the estate.Krystal stood frozen for half a second, just then he saw Diago already moving. The alpha had his sword drawn. “Diago!” He grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?”“To the archives.” He quickly answered without hesitation.“They’re on fire!”“I know.”“Then why are you going inside?” Diago turned and for once, there was no cold amusement in his crimson eyes—only absolute certainty.“Because they didn’t burn the archives to destroy everything.” His gaze shifted toward the flames. “They burned them to destroy something specific.”Before Krystal could ask what he meant, he pulled free and stro

The imperial capital had never looked so deceptively peaceful.The morning sunlight poured across the wide marble streets, warming the cobblestones as merchants opened their colorful stalls and noble carriages rolled leisurely through the bustling avenues.Children chased each other with laughter, street performers played lively tunes, and birds sang from flowering trees lining the boulevards. Everything appeared perfectly ordinary.And no one had realized that, far beneath the city’s glittering surface, the Shadow Crest had just declared war.Yet still, peace inside the Vale Estate, however, had become a forgotten luxury.Every corridor echoed with the rhythmic footsteps of armored knights. Servants moved quickly and quietly, their usual chatter reduced to anxious whispers. Smiles had vanished entirely, even the simple act of breathing too loudly felt like tempting fate.Krystal stood beside the tall library window, staring out at the manicured gardens without really seeing them. He

Darkness.Far beyond the imperial capital, past noble estates and bustling cities, an underground fortress laid buried beneath the ruins of an abandoned monastery. No traveler who valued their life ever ventured there.This was the true heart of the Shadow Crest.Torchlight flickered along the damp stone corridors as hooded figures patrolled in silence. Every wall bore the same chilling emblem: a black serpent coiled around a crescent moon. The air itself tasted of death.Through its massive iron doors, a lone figure staggered, his breath ragged. Blood soaked the left side of his black uniform, leaving a steady trail across the stone floor. He was the only survivor of the last assassin who had escaped the Moonveil Festival.The guards offered no help. They simply stepped aside. “The Council is waiting,” one of them said in a flat voice. The assassin swallowed hard. That frightened him far more than Diago Veydrake ever had.The doors to the council chamber opened with a low groan. The

Silence blanketed the rose garden. No one spoke after the knight uttered Elias’s name. For the first time, the blond omega’s playful demeanor vanished completely. “…Are you certain?” Elias asked, voice quiet. The knight lowered his head. “Yes, Young Master.” He handed the bloodstained parchment to Diago and the alpha slowly unfolded it. Two names were written across the center in dark, deliberate ink: Caspian Vale.Elias Blanchett. And below the name was a single chilling line: One must die and the other must watch.Krystal felt the blood drain from his face. “What kind of lunatic writes something like that?” Diago’s eyes stayed fixed on the paper. “The Shadow Crest.” He folded it with deliberate care and slipped it inside his deep crimson coat. “They’re provoking us.” “Or they’re trying to turn us against each other.” Elias folded his arms.“What do you mean?” Krystal frowned. “If two targets know they’re both being hunted,” Elias explained, “the easiest way to weaken them i

Para cuando Praise regresó a la Mansión Loperse, la lluvia se había convertido en un aguacero constante. El agua caía en cascada desde los aleros y se acumulaba en oscuros charcos a lo largo del camino de grava.Salió del automóvil y se detuvo bajo la entrada techada, contemplando la mansión que se alzaba contra el cielo tormentoso.Todo parecía exactamente igual que aquella mañana: perfecto, controlado e intocable. Las columnas de mármol seguían brillando bajo las luces exteriores. Las ventanas continuaban reflejando la imagen de poder cuidadosamente construida por la familia.Sin embargo, Praise ya sabía la verdad.Algo andaba mal. No solo con Dylan, sino con todo el mundo cuidadosamente levantado alrededor de Aurelius Luxe.Entró por las puertas principales. El repentino silencio del interior resultó casi antinatural después del estruendo de la lluvia. Nora apareció de inmediato y tomó su abrigo mojado con la eficiencia de quien llevaba años haciendo lo mismo.—Sr. Renard —dijo con

El resto de la tarde transcurrió en medio de un silencio cargado de tensión.Praise permaneció en la oficina exterior, organizando horarios y atendiendo las pocas llamadas que Dylan le permitía responder. Cada vez que la puerta privada se abría, sentía la mirada de Dylan clavarse en él y permanecer allí una fracción de segundo más de lo necesario.La seguridad con la que Praise había llegado a la mansión había desaparecido. En su lugar quedaba una calma estudiada, cautelosa.Había cometido un error.Y uno bastante grave.Cuando terminó la última reunión, Dylan despidió al personal que quedaba con una sola mirada. El piso ejecutivo se vació rápidamente hasta que solo quedaron ellos dos.Dylan estaba de pie junto a la ventana, con las manos en los bolsillos, observando cómo la lluvia surcaba el cristal.—Ven aquí.Praise se acercó y se detuvo a unos cuantos pasos de él.Pero Dylan no se volvió.—Manejaste ese expediente como alguien que ya sabía lo que había dentro —dijo en voz baja.—R

El piso ejecutivo de Aurelius Luxe era mucho más silencioso que el resto del edificio, pero aquel silencio parecía tener un peso propio.Los asistentes iban y venían rápidamente entre las oficinas, bajando la voz de manera instintiva en cuanto Dylan aparecía. Cuando las puertas del ascensor se abrieron, Praise sintió que la atmósfera de aquel lugar lo envolvía como un viejo abrigo.Este era el mismo piso donde Vanel Lense había pasado siete años intentando demostrar su valía.Y ahora él recorría aquellos mismos pasillos bajo otro nombre.—Mantente cerca.Dylan avanzó sin mirar atrás.—Sí, señor.Praise lo siguió hasta la oficina privada.Durante la siguiente hora, se dedicó a organizar documentos mientras Dylan trabajaba, atendiendo llamadas y firmando papeles con la misma precisión implacable con la que, en otro tiempo, había decidido el destino de Vanel.Todo en aquella habitación seguía exactamente igual: el mármol negro, los enormes ventanales con vistas a la ciudad bajo la lluvia

La mañana trajo fuertes aguaceros que convirtieron las calles de la ciudad en espejos oscuros. El auto de lujo negro se deslizaba con suavidad por el asfalto mojado, rumbo a la sede de Aurelius Luxe.Praise iba sentado en el asiento trasero, junto a Dylan. El silencio entre ellos era tan denso que se podía cortar con un cuchillo. La confrontación de la noche anterior aún flotaba en el aire como un humo que se negaba a disiparse. Dylan no había vuelto a mencionar el archivo confidencial, pero las miradas afiladas que le dirigía de vez en cuando dejaban dolorosamente claro que la sospecha seguía viva.Praise mantuvo el rostro cuidadosamente en blanco, aunque el pulso le latía desbocado. Una sola palabra imprudente la noche anterior casi lo había delatado por completo. Había estado de pie en esa oficina con el informe entre las manos y estuvo a punto de destrozar la identidad tan cuidadosamente construida de Praise Renard.Dylan rompió el silencio por fin, con la voz baja y controlada.—

El reloj de la oficina de Dylan marcaba las 11:47 p. m.La mansión había caído en un silencio absoluto. Solo el repiqueteo ocasional de la lluvia contra los altos ventanales rompía la quietud.Praise se encontraba de pie junto al gran escritorio de caoba, ordenando con cuidado el último montón de documentos. Sus dedos se movían con precisión experta, pero su mente estaba muy lejos de allí.Dylan llevaba horas trabajando sin descanso. Su chaqueta reposaba tirada sobre el respaldo de la silla, y las mangas de su camisa negra estaban remangadas hasta los codos, dejando al descubierto sus antebrazos fuertes y marcados por venas. Incluso agotado, Dylan Loperse irradiaba poder: un poder silencioso, controlado e imposible de ignorar.Praise había pasado las últimas tres horas intentando no mirarlo. Y había fracasado estrepitosamente.—Estás mirando —dijo Dylan, sin apartar los ojos del contrato que tenía delante.—No es verdad —respondió Praise con calma.El bolígrafo de Dylan se detuvo. Len

Praise Renard estaba despierto mucho antes del amanecer.El reloj digital sobre su mesita de noche marcaba las 5:12 a. m. Apenas había dormido. Cada vez que cerraba los ojos, los mismos recuerdos regresaban con fuerza: unos ojos grises y fríos, una expresión indescifrable y una voz calmada que había desmantelado su mundo entero con solo tres palabras devastadoras.«Estás despedido».Praise miró fijamente el techo, respirando con lentitud. Habían pasado siete meses desde que Vanel Lense había sido borrado de la existencia, pero aquellas palabras aún resonaban con la misma crudeza que aquella noche humillante bajo las luces brillantes.Se incorporó y susurró a la habitación vacía: —Hoy no. Hoy no tenía que ver con el pasado. Hoy marcaba el verdadero comienzo de su venganza.A las seis y media, la mansión ya despertaba con silenciosa eficiencia. El aroma del pan fresco salía del horno, los granos de café se molían a mano y el aire se llenaba con el rico perfume de la mantequilla y el