Huntress And Wolf

Silence returned, stretching long between Klaus and Anna like the cold shadow of a guillotine. The stillness was not awkward—neither of them were strangers to silence—but weighted, brimming with unspoken judgments.

Klaus's thoughts had turned inward, dark and brooding.

He had little patience for cowards. That much had always been true. Perhaps it was one of the deeper reasons he found his sister's chosen companions so… disappointing.

Kai. A decent soul, in a world that rewarded anything but. Honourable, kind, selfless—yes. But all those things were mere ornaments clinging to a hollow core. He lacked the most vital trait of all: conviction. Confidence. The unshakable will to walk one's path without flinching. Klaus had seen it clearly. Kai's uncertainty poisoned every step he took.

Then there was Sunny.

Sunny was worse.

A hypocrite dressed in worn leather and brittle pride. He cast judgment on others with fervent disdain, and yet his own sins dwarfed theirs by magnitude. Man who acted as if he walked in shadow by necessity, yet in truth, he was the shadow—ruled not by pragmatism, but by fear.

Klaus narrowed his eye. No—that wasn't quite right. He couldn't, in good faith, even call Sunny a man. Not yet. He hadn't earned that title. Nor had he earned Klaus's respect.

And perhaps that was why he liked Cassie. If he was being honest with himself, she intrigued him. She was bold and daring in ways few noticed. While she appeared meek and obedient, Klaus saw the truth. Cassie wasn't some docile girl content to follow. No, she merely played the part.

He found it delightfully ironic that she always seemed to follow orders—while everyone else ended up dancing to hers without even realizing it.

Was it disturbing? Certainly. Manipulative? Absolutely. Wicked? Without a doubt. But Klaus didn't mind. He liked her as she was—no masks, no pretense. Simple, unapologetic.

And Nephis? Perhaps she had inherited more from him than anyone realized—to do as she pleased, not because it was right or just, but because she wanted to. That thought made him smirk… and then frown.

Still… Klaus felt a flicker of worry for his sister. Confidence was admirable. So was desire. Even pride had its charm. But when desire bloats into delusion, and pride turns to hubris… then it became dangerous. Even to someone like her.

Still lost in thought, Klaus was broken from his reverie by a slight shift behind him. Anna, poised and watchful, had silently lifted an iron mace, her lips curling in a smile that was just a shade too wide to be called sane. Her stance shifted, weight sliding to her left foot, anticipation crackling in the air.

Klaus turned his head, a smirk tugging at his lips, one brow arched in amusement.

"Well, well… What a surprise. To what do I owe the honour, Lady Eunbin?"

She stepped forward like a ripple of wine across silk, scarlet lips curling into a smile that was both alluring and unreadable. Her eyes drifted to Anna, and Klaus, ever the keen observer, noted it—that subtle tension in her body. Surprise. Carefully hidden, but there.

He had expected that. Anna was a legend in the underworld—a petite figure cloaked in grace and carnage. Once the iron-fisted head of her own clan, now merely the mad hound of a new master. Despite her youthful appearance, she was older than she looked. Older, and far more dangerous than most would believe. And sanity? A distant acquaintance, long since abandoned.

Eunbin approached with languid elegance, her every step a performance. When she dipped into a slight bow, it was both mocking and flirtatious.

"It is a pleasure to see the Great Smiling Man once more. Might I request your… spirited subordinate to lower her rather brutish instrument of persuasion?"

Klaus gave a slight nod. In a flash of white light, the weapon vanished from Anna's grasp. She said nothing, though her eyes gleamed faintly with disappointment.

Eunbin chuckled softly, tilting her head again to take in Klaus more fully.

"My, how courteous. I must say, I've missed our little escapades."

Klaus offered his arm with a lazy smile. She took it without hesitation, letting him guide her through the marble arch and into the moonlit garden beyond.

Behind his pleasant facade, Klaus's mind stirred. Why was she here?

He had ideas. But certainty was elusive.

Maybe that woman...

He glanced at her sidelong, voice smooth and pleasant.

"I wonder... How goes your little hunt, my lady?"

Eunbin raised a sculpted brow, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Her lips parted, red and glossy like a ripe pomegranate.

"Progressing, I suppose. The wolf I chase is a cunning beast. Slippery. Not easy to corner."

Klaus's smile widened into something darker, almost predatory.

We'll see who's hunting whom, he thought, his gaze glinting with veiled arrogance.

"Then I hope your hunt is half as enticing as you are to watch."

Eunbin offered a theatrical sigh of gratitude, her fingers brushing his arm a little too intimately.

"Before the hunt resumes... would the big, bad wolf care to indulge the Huntress? For old time's sake?"

Klaus chuckled as they stepped into the quiet splendor of the garden.

"I fear this wolf has found a cave worth keeping, my lady."

Eunbin sighed again, a note of faux melancholy in her voice as her smile softened.

"Then it's a pity… A true pity indeed."

After a string of idle conversation, meandering through rose-lined paths and marble columns veiled in moonlight, Klaus and Eunbin finally arrived at their destination.

Not that Klaus needed directions. It was his garden, after all—each path, arch, and flowering alcove known to him intimately. He knew full well Eunbin had elongated their stroll deliberately, weaving extra turns into their route just to extend their time together. And though he saw through the ploy, he indulged her regardless. Sometimes, entertainment had its own value.

Eunbin came to a graceful stop and turned toward him, her smile blossoming with the subtle sweetness of mischief, tinged with a faint trace of disappointment. The moonlight kissed her skin, rendering her almost ethereal.

"Well… it seems we've reached the end of our little fairytale walk, my gallant knight in shining armor."

Klaus quirked a brow, bemused by her persistent flirtation.

"Indeed, the curtain falls at last. A shame, truly. Though judging by your expression, I must carry on alone from here… princess?"

She laughed—low and melodious, like wind chimes stirred by a warm breeze. Every motion she made was deliberate, charged with subtle suggestion: the languid blink of her heavy-lidded eyes, the flutter of long lashes, the faint brush of her fingertips along his sleeve, the hypnotic sway of her hips as she shifted her weight.

And Klaus, for all his iron discipline, felt the tension coil beneath his skin. Her beauty, her voice, the scent of her perfume—each ignited a fire in him that was difficult to ignore. His flaw—those amplified desires—clawed at his restraint like a beast eager to break free.

Fortunately, his attribute—[Cold-Blooded]—anchored him like iron to the ocean floor. It dulled the noise, snuffed the heat, and kept his mind as sharp and cold as a hunter's blade.

"Well, I suppose I'll be on my way," he said, stepping forward without fanfare. "Charming as always, Lady Eunbin."

But before he could take another step, he felt her fingers curl around his arm—gentle, yet insistent.

Klaus turned his head slowly, irritation flickering just behind his otherwise impassive gaze.

With a sudden, fluid motion, Eunbin pressed him against the cold stone wall, her fingers entangling themselves in his hair as her lips crashed into his. Her body molded to his, soft curves pressing into the hard lines of his chest, hips flush against his in a seamless, unashamed invasion of space.

Klaus's eyes widened slightly as her tongue slid past his, hot and wet and bold, exploring him with wicked familiarity—almost as if she intended to memorize the shape of him, down to the last breath.

He felt the sharp contrast of her nails scraping gently along his scalp, the electric pressure of her full breasts against him, the subtle roll of her hips as she deepened the kiss with maddening confidence.

His fists clenched at his sides, not from discomfort, but from restraint. Her body pressed so flush to his, he could feel the slow drag of her breath, the push of her chest, the hum of pleasure in her throat. And for a moment—just a moment—his control wavered.

Then, mercifully, she pulled away.

Lips flushed, pupils dilated, she licked her bottom lip with a slow, deliberate motion. A feline satisfaction gleamed in her eyes.

"Mmm~ I did miss that taste..." she murmured, voice thick with sensuality. "Well, my offer still stands. You know where to find me, Mr. Zakharov… should the wolf ever wish to play with the huntress again—when his cave grows too cold."

With a final teasing glance, she turned, her hips swaying like a pendulum as she vanished into the shadows of the garden.

Klaus remained still, his unsettling smile intact, though his eyes narrowed in irritation as he wiped the saliva from his mouth with the back of his hand.

"That little... Tsk."

Klaus shook his head, exhaling sharply as the chill in the air bit at his skin. The remnants of heat—the lingering pulse of that kiss, the irritation curled in his chest—were slowly subdued by the cold wind. He drew in a long breath, steadying himself, and wandered toward the quieter side of the garden.

The path opened into a secluded clearing, where the lake stretched still and silent under the pale light. Its surface was a mirror, undisturbed—except for the playful splashes of a young girl sitting at the edge, her bare legs dipping into the water.

She giggled to herself, swaying her feet and creating ripples that shimmered like silver threads across the lake. For a moment, there was something innocent about it—peaceful, even.

Klaus remained motionless for a moment, watching her. Then, with practiced nonchalance, he seated himself on a wooden bench nearby.

The girl continued for a time, lost in her play, until suddenly—almost unnaturally—she stilled. The warmth in her eyes drained away, replaced by a coldness so profound it felt as if death itself had seeped into her gaze.

When she finally spoke, her voice was no longer that of a child. It carried weight—familiar, heavy, and sharp as a blade of memory.

"You've grown into such a remarkable young man, little Icarus…"

Klaus didn't so much as blink. He leaned back, retrieved a cigarette, and lit it with calm fingers. His smirk returned, cool and effortless.

"So, you figured it out," he said, exhaling a plume of smoke. "Well… doesn't matter, I guess."

He tilted his head just enough to glance her way, eyes glowing faintly through the mist.

"Aunt Ki."