1 My daughter and I accidentally time-traveled back to when my husband was still living like a dog in a dungeon. Back then, he was the circus’s prized moneymaker. Because one-half of his face was impossibly beautiful, and the other half was a grotesque, demonic horror. One look would send anyone into fits of screaming terror. But my daughter just waddled straight toward him, pushing her chubby little arms through the iron bars, her voice milky and sweet: “Daddy, hold me~” The moment I realized when we were, I felt the sky crack open and fall in. One second ago, I was in our magnificent, opulent castle, rocking my daughter in the nursery. My husband was right beside me, his voice gentle as he read from a new picture book. The next, I was holding my daughter, stumbling onto a filthy, damp floor. The roar of a raucous, surging crowd was all around us. Several heavy boots nearly stomped on me. Before I could even react, the shriek of an old-fashioned microphone filled the air: “Ladies and Gentlemen! And now, for the most thrilling moment of the night!” “Our prized treasure, the Cursed Demon, the Half-Man, Half-Ghoul!” “Are you ready to cover your eyes and SCREAM?” My heart sank into my stomach. This was bad. Of all the times to travel to, it had to be this one. It had to be his human life. His experiences before he became the immortal monster I knew... I never dared to ask. Partly because he refused to speak of it. Partly because I couldn't bear to imagine it. Because… In the next second, the entire tent plunged into darkness, save for a single, stark white spotlight on the stage. The heavy, crimson velvet curtain slowly began to rise. A rusted iron cage sat center stage. I instinctively slapped my hand over my daughter’s curious, blinking eyes. And then, I saw him. José Tourinan. Though, back then, he didn’t even have a name. He wasn’t even considered a person. He was livestock. An animal for public amusement. The curtain continued its ascent. I didn’t dare breathe, my eyes fixed on the stage. The first thing I saw was the filthy, wet floor of the cage. An ankle, locked in a heavy, gilded shackle. Then, a tattered, frayed animal pelt that barely offered any decency. Up to a honey-colored, scar-covered abdomen, completely devoid of fat. Wrists, bound tight in gold-plated chains as thick as a man’s arm. Cheap chest-chains and glass jewels, meant to catch the audience’s eye. Finally, I met his eyes. They were sunken, terrifying, and ocean-blue. His left side was beautiful, like a wild, untamed god. Deep-set eyes, long brown curls falling across his brow. It was heartbreaking. The circus ringmaster cracked his whip. The man in the cage slowly, stiffly, turned his head. A wave of screams erupted from the crowd. Then came the disorganized chorus of disgust, curses, and filth. His right side was horrifying. Livid, grotesque scars, unhealed wounds, and twisted, knotted flesh. Like a demon torn straight from a painting. Over the din, the owner calmly rapped on the cage, raising his whip with a smile. “One lash to ward off bad luck! Two to repel demons! Three to cleanse all misfortune!” “Tonight, we have one slot only! Highest bidder wins!” My hand trembled. I had to physically restrain myself from rushing the stage. Around me, people were already shouting out bids. I bit my lip so hard I could taste blood. I was trapped. The time travel had been so sudden, I was still in my loungewear. I was, quite literally, penniless. On stage, the owner’s voice was ecstatic. “Fifty pounds for the strike! Do I hear higher?” The tent went quiet. The man shrugged, clearly satisfied with the price. And just then, a chubby little hand shot up in the air. In her fist was a blood-red ruby pendant, the size of a pigeon’s egg, set on a gold chain. It was radiant, obviously priceless. It was the gift her father had spent months searching for, the day she was born. It had never, ever left her neck. The owner’s voice was shaking. “Oh, my… my dear… tiny lady! Is that your bid?” I finally realized my hand had slipped away from Eve’s eyes. She was beaming, an angelic smile on her face, and nodded vigorously. “Uh-huh!” I walked onto the high stage, carrying Eve, the stares from every direction burning into my skin. The owner obsequiously handed me the coarse, heavy whip. But Eve, with a toddler’s sudden speed, squirmed free and darted right past him. Like a little cloud, she plopped down right in front of the cage. Her voice was bright and clear: “Daddy, Daddy, what happened next? Did the princess kiss the toad?” 2 I’d almost forgotten. Before we were pulled through time, José was reading her a story. She hates cliffhangers. She’s just too young to understand that this wasn’t the right venue for storytime. I heard the audience gasp, and then the "buzz" of whispers started. “Who is that woman? Looks respectable, but... what a kinky private life.” “A child out of wedlock? How scandalous. The world is going to hell.” And… “My God, they let that thing breed? It’s a menace.” The owner was sweating, trying to save the show. “Haha… kids! They get so confused! Am I right, ma’am?” Before I could answer, Eve exploded like a tiny, angry firecracker. “I would never mistake my daddy!” As if to prove her point, she shoved her arms through the bars, straining. “Daddy! Daddy! Hold me!” Her little face was full of confidence. She knew this was her ultimate move. Usually, whenever she’d reach for him and babble, he’d drop whatever he was doing—state affairs, ducal decrees, anything—to pick her up and soothe her. It’s why she still refuses to sleep unless she’s being held. But ten seconds passed. The familiar embrace didn’t come. I saw the huddled figure in the cage flinch and shrink back. He buried his head even lower. My heart sank. Crap. Sure enough, the little ancestor’s nose twitched, her bottom lip wobbled, and she let out a “WAAAAAH!” I told him not to spoil her like this. In an instant, she was shrieking, a world-ending, heavens-collapsing tantrum. It was the exact same wail she used when I refused to buy her a new doll. I’d seen it a million times. I was immune. But to strangers, her angelic face was a devastating weapon. She was a natural at winning sympathy. Including from her own father. The filthy figure in the cage finally moved. He slowly, agonizingly, lifted his head. His dull, lifeless eyes were filled with wariness, confusion, and a bone-deep chill. But a child, upon sensing a victory, will only double down. She cried even harder. The kind of cry that twists everyone's guts. No one could refuse her. So, in these moments, all I had to do was shrug, the picture of a helpless, indulgent mother. “I'm terribly sorry, but... could I trouble you, sir, to help me calm my daughter?” 3 It took the owner a full minute to realize who I was referring to as "sir." He waved his hands frantically, his belly fat trembling. “Ma’am, you don’t understand! He’s dangerous! Extremely dangerous! You can’t let a child near him!” I smiled. “A pity. I have no interest in whipping him, either. In that case, we won’t be paying.” The fortune he’d just imagined was about to fly away. He couldn't let that happen. And besides, Eve was just… heartbreakingly adorable. ... The crowd dispersed. I was led backstage. We passed exotic beasts, three massive guard dogs, and finally, a dungeon door secured with six different locks. Eve’s eyes lit up. A familiar silhouette was shackled to the bars, kneeling, so broken he barely looked human. The owner was wringing his hands, making one last attempt. I just smiled and shook my head. “Open it.” The heavy iron door shrieked as it opened. Eve shot inside like a happy little bird. “Daddy, Daddy!” She expertly scrambled into his lap and started rubbing her head against his chest. I crossed my arms, leaning against the doorframe, in no hurry to stop her. The filthy figure tensed, trying to shrink away, as if he had no idea how to react. But perhaps due to some primal, blood connection, he didn't push her away. He just stared at me, his eyes cold and uncomprehending. This was the first real look I’d ever had at the man he used to be. His eyes were like those of a wild animal. No emotion. No warmth. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice a raw rasp. “Who… are you.” I raised an eyebrow. So, he already knew how to speak. That was good news. I walked closer, smiling, and crouched down to meet his gaze. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tourinan,” I said, my voice sincere. “I am your future wife.” 4 I thought I sounded pretty cool when I said it. Until, three seconds later, he let out a sharp, cold snort of laughter. It was a merciless sound, as if he’d just heard the most absurd joke in the world. “Marriage?” He raised a filthy hand and slowly, deliberately, pushed back the matted hair covering the right side of his face. The twisted, grotesque scars were exposed to the air. My vision filled with his terrifying, mocking smile. “With… me?” His meaning was clear. A monster like him, a creature without even the most basic human dignity. And me? I was clean, my clothes were fine, my daughter a perfect, cherished angel. How could he have a family? And how could that family possibly be us? But I didn’t even blink. I completely ignored the horrific scars he was using to frighten me away. My voice was firm and calm. “Yes. You.” He laughed again. It was a high-pitched, agonizing sound. He was shaking so hard, tears of bitter mirth squeezed from his eyes. He sounded like a beast gone mad. “My dear,” he choked out, gasping for air. “Where do we hold the ceremony? In this cage?” “And how… how will you walk me down the aisle? By my shackles? Or a dog collar around my neck?” He lunged forward, his face inches from mine, his words slow and stabbing. “Look at me. Look closely… and tell me… Are you really going to stand before a priest and God, and vow to kiss this face for all eternity?” I stared at him, my expression blank. Then I pecked him on his dry, chapped lips. It was as practiced as the thousand times I’d done it before. I even had the presence of mind to frown and critique him. “Mediocre. You really need some lip balm.” Eve dutifully slapped her hands over her eyes. Time seemed to stop in that dark, narrow dungeon. I could clearly see his pupils dilate, a hurricane of pure, unadulterated astonishment raging within them. “So… your terms,” I said. I tapped him on the forehead, then turned to the thunderstruck owner, smiling brightly. “I want him.” 5 My demand left the owner sputtering. He looked at me, then at the man in the cage who was still radiating pure, scathing mockery, and his jowls trembled. “M-Ma’am, you can’t be serious.” “He’s a monster. An animal. You buy him… what would you even do with him?” I smiled. “What I’ll do with him is none of your concern.” I slowly unfastened a chain from my own neck. Compared to Eve’s massive ruby, mine was painfully simple. A thin platinum chain, holding a small, intricately carved silver ring. It was our wedding ring. In the long, immortal life of the Blood Dukes, these things were mostly symbolic. But we were sentimental enough to get a pair. The owner’s expression instantly shifted from confusion to contempt. “Ma’am. You’re offering me this… this trinket… for my prized moneymaker?” “Are you trying to insult me?” I wasn’t offended. I just held the ring out. “Look closer.” Inside the band, a minuscule line of script was engraved. José had carved it for me himself. “Tu es ma seule lueure.” You are my only light. The owner squinted, clearly having no idea what it meant. I didn’t expect him to. I just gently pressed a tiny, hidden stud on the ring’s setting. Vssshht. A soft, clear holographic projection instantly bloomed in the dim air of the dungeon. It was a magnificent, impossibly beautiful castle. Sunlight streamed through stained-glass windows, illuminating a long gallery carpeted in velvet. At the end of the gallery, on a sun-drenched balcony, a man in a black tailcoat was holding a cherubic little girl. The man was unearthly handsome, his blue eyes overflowing with a gentle smile as he kissed the girl’s forehead. And the girl… was, unmistakably, Eve. The owner’s eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. He pointed at the regal, princely man in the projection, then back at the gaunt "monster" in the cage, and stammered. “That… that’s… that’s…” “Witchcraft! This is witchcraft!” I snapped the projection off and put the ring back on. “Now,” I said, "what do you think he’s worth?" I watched him coolly. “Or perhaps, what do you think it’s worth… to get on the wrong side of a family that practices 'witchcraft'?” The color drained from the owner's face. The fear of the unknown was carved into the bones of people from this era. He dropped to his knees with a wet thud. “M-My lady! A sorceress! No, no, a goddess! Please, spare me!” “Take the monster! Take him! I don’t want a single coin! Consider it a gift! My respects to you!” I almost laughed. Damn. Running a psyche-op on a Luddite like this was almost too easy. It was all thanks to future tech. I nodded, satisfied, and pointed at the cage. “Open it.” “And by the way, his name is José Tourinan. Not 'monster.'” “Got it?” I felt like a human trafficker as I led a "brand new" José out of the circus. Of course, we were "warmly" seen off by the terrified owner. He even shoved a heavy purse of coins into my hands, calling it "apology money." I hefted it. Not bad. Well, that solved our food and lodging problem. The real problem, however, was the gentleman walking behind me. He was in a clean set of clothes, his hair washed. But the bone-deep gloom and wariness hadn't faded one bit. He was like a wild animal let out of its cage for the first time, trailing me but keeping a precise distance—far enough to flee, or to attack. Those blue eyes were fixed on me and Eve, as if assessing what new kind of trap this was. Eve, however, was completely oblivious. She held a fistful of my skirt in one hand, and a fistful of José's trouser leg in the other, her little legs working hard to keep up. “Mommy, where are we going?” “We're going to find Daddy a new home.” The second I said it, I felt the footsteps behind me stop. I turned. José was standing still, the dim yellow streetlight casting stark shadows across his face. His beautiful left side was hidden in darkness; his grotesque right side was perfectly, cruelly illuminated. “Home?” He repeated the word, his voice like sandpaper. And then he laughed. That same, agonizing, mocking laugh. “Are you people not tired of this game of 'house' yet?” “What do you want from me?” “Is it my blood? My flesh? Or do you want to train me into a more obedient dog, just to sell me for a higher price?” I watched him quietly. I knew those words weren't for me. They were the words he’d been telling himself, over and over. They were the only truth his world had ever offered him. I didn’t speak. I just held out my hand. He flinched back, wary, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. “Don’t touch me.” I ignored him. I walked right up and took his ice-cold hand. His wrist was raw, with deep, red abrasions from the iron chains. He was so thin, just a bundle of bones. His entire body went rigid. I could feel the tremors in his muscles. But I held on tight. “First: I’m not 'you people.' I’m your wife.” “Second: I don’t want anything from you, because everything you are is already mine.” “Third,” I pulled his hand over and placed it on Eve’s tiny head. “From now on, you need to learn to be a father.” Eve, right on cue, tilted her head back and gave him a gap-toothed, goofy grin. “Daddy!” José jerked, as if he’d been burned. He tried to rip his hand away. But I held it fast. His fingers remained there, stiff, impossibly, touching his daughter’s soft hair. In that instant, I saw the glacier in his eyes... crack.
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