Nox | Taehyung x Reader

Two

Early evening. Behind the false wall in his bedroom, Taehyung lay in his wooden coffin, his eyes shut even though he had already roused from a long sleep.

He was listening.

He could detect no sound from the floors beneath, and that was how he usually preferred it. The many servants and maids that worked for him knew to finish their work and retreat to their quarters at the back of the manor's expansive grounds, before the master of the house woke. That way, he would not be in danger of being around too many humans and risk their scent ruining all he had worked towards. And they, in turn, were protected from him.

By now, you had likely taken your leave.

He hoped it had not been difficult to find your carrying case. He'd instructed Pavel to leave it in the foyer, and to take you wherever you wanted to go. It wasn't as if he needed a carriage in the next coming days. He intended on staying here for some time, to recuperate the energy his last trip had taken from him. And he needed to feed again. Soon.

Fifteen minutes later, he was dressed in his preferred attire and descending the stairs, wrapped in the comforting dark of drawn curtains. Though he owned no mirrors, skilled tailors had ensured everything would fit him well and would not look too out of place in the current century. The flowing end of his black topcoat brushed gently against the back of his trousers. His crimson cravat sat comfortably against his strong neck. And as always, his customary gloves were pulled snug over his fingers.

He thought he would perhaps find solace in a book for a few hours, until night had completely fallen. He had just procured a rare book from overseas, about artists and painting techniques. The shifting of trends throughout the years and decades fascinated him. How things appeared so different on the surface and yet beneath it all, came from the same origin.

What he found instead was a figure hunched over the extended table in the library, a dripping candle illuminating an open book.

"My lord!"

You looked up at the sound of his footsteps and smiled so naturally, so easily. His heart gave an unwanted jolt.

"...Not 'sir' any longer?" He asked first, attempting to sound calm even as the light scent of you wafted over to him. At this distance, the smell was a tease. A silent beckoning for him to come closer. He allowed himself one step.

"You did not tell me you held a title, my lord. I apologize for my disrespect towards you last night."

"I did not mind it." He dared another step. He had survived being near you in the carriage last night, did he not? Though he insisted upon opening a window, he had survived.

"Since the maids told me your name, I believe it only proper that I give mine."

He made no protest, though he knew exactly why he had not asked for it. A name gave him something else to engrave into his mind when things had fallen apart, like they always did. A name gave him more to cling onto. But perhaps it was too late already for that, he thought as he found those eyes again and heard you say a collection of beautiful sounds.

"Oh, and I am yet unmarried, so you may continue to call me miss," you added, giving him an answer to a question he had not dared to ask.

"...A pleasure to meet you then, miss," he said, instead of repeating your name. As if uttering it out loud might solidify it even more. He plunged his hand into a coat pocket as he strode, purposefully, towards the shelves of books.

After he had picked a book and was deciding whether to stay or flee the room altogether with it, you lifted your head. Without preamble, you asked, "Are you surprised I'm still here, my lord?"