Choonloy

London 1820
For centuries, the royal family has fought a relentless battle against a curse left behind by their ancestor, a king whose thirst for power led him to transform into a vampire. This dark legacy is shrouded in mystery and dread, and has haunted the kingdom since the king vanished into the shadow. 

In his wake, the descendant of the king was cursed with an unique and powerful bloodline known as the Silver Blood. A gift or a curse that can turn any weapon they wield into silver, which becomes the weapon to kill the vampires. According to legend, has the power to revert vampires back to humans.

Maverick Crus Beecham, known as Marx, is one of the Special Soldier Night Guards that serve the kingdom. He is said to be the most skilled and dedicated member. Raised by his only relative, Lawrence Beecham, the head of the special unit, after the tragic death of his parents. 

And one day Marx was suddenly given a sudden three month vacation from his uncle, to return home and inherit his title as a Earl. But during this time, he meets a charming and enigmatic nobleman who goes by Cherie. Despite their contrasting personalities, Marx’s serious demeanor and Cherie’s outgoing nature, the two form a powerful duo, bound by their private mission and so called DATE by Cherie.

“We should go through all of the ups and down, for better, for worse, until we are part by death”

Sovereign Of Silver Blood

When the dust and rubble exploded around, the ceiling shattered upon impact with the floor, but as expected, Maverick managed to roll out of harm's way. Hiding behind a pillar, breathing heavily, Maverick scrambled to his feet, coughing as dust clouded the air.

Maverick slumped against the pillar, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. The sound of metal crashing against rock echoed from below, a clear sign that Julius had understood his warning about silver.

Maverick winced as he shifted his weight, feeling the sharp pain from the injury he had sustained when the ceiling collapsed on him. He gingerly wiped his forehead, thinking it was sweat, but when he looked down at his hand, it was smeared with blood.

He frowned, his mind racing. He can't let others know he's injured. Using his now-ruined suit, he wiped the blood from his head and hand, tossing the garment aside as if discarding his weakness.

Heartache