Lies served cold

Cora sat perched on the kitchen counter, legs swinging slightly as she watched Damien move effortlessly around the kitchen. The soft glow of the pendant lights overhead illuminated his sharp features, casting flickering shadows across his face. His dark hair was slightly tousled, as though he hadn't bothered to fix it after waking up, yet it only made him look more devastatingly handsome.

Her fingers curled against the cool marble of the countertop as she studied him—this man, the second prince of the country, standing before a stove, sleeves rolled up, cooking as though he weren't royalty. It was an almost comical sight. If anyone were to find out that Damien Ravenscroft was personally making a meal for her, they would never believe it. Hell, she barely believed it herself.

Cora tilted her head. "How is a prince like you even capable of cooking?"

Damien turned, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smirk, as if she had asked the most ridiculous question in the world. His eyes gleamed with amusement, a flicker of arrogance dancing in their depths.

"I'm just good at everything, Cora," he said smoothly, placing the steaming plate beside her. "Things you wouldn't even imagine."

His voice, low and velvety, sent an uninvited shiver down her spine. There was something so inherently dangerous about the way he spoke, as though every word was laced with a deeper meaning—a promise, a warning, or maybe both.

Cora swallowed and slid off the counter, making her way to the dining table. She pulled her plate closer but hesitated. "Do you guys always feed on blood, or do you eat like us?"

Damien leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. The casual stance did nothing to hide the undeniable power in his posture—like a predator watching its prey from the shadows.

"Over the years, my kind has learned to blend in," he answered, tilting his head slightly. "So yes, we eat human food. We've adapted. But…" His smirk widened, exposing the sharp edge of his teeth. "We prefer raw meat. Uncooked. Bloody."

A chill ran through her, and Cora forced herself to focus on the food in front of her, gripping her spoon tightly. She didn't want to think about what he preferred to eat.

"I—I can't eat in front of you," she muttered, lowering her gaze. "My mask—"

Before she could finish, Damien simply turned and walked away, leaving her alone with the meal he had prepared.

The sterile scent of disinfectant burned Amelia's nostrils as she stirred awake, blinking against the harsh hospital lights. A dull ache throbbed in her skull, forcing her to groan as she tried to sit up.

She hated hospitals—the smell, the eerie quiet, the sense of vulnerability that came with lying in a bed surrounded by cold, white walls.

Her vision was slightly blurred, but when she finally adjusted to the room, her gaze fell on a man sitting near the window, a book in hand. The way he flipped through the pages was unnaturally elegant, as if each movement was calculated, precise.

He was breathtaking in a way that almost irritated her.

Amelia blinked again, and the blur sharpened into focus.

Leonard.

His face was devoid of emotion, the cold, detached aura around him making the air feel heavy.

She sighed. "Where's Cora?"

"With Damien," he answered curtly, not even sparing her a glance.

Amelia rolled her eyes. "Such a cold guy."

This time, Leonard finally looked up, as if he had heard her unfiltered thoughts. The book snapped shut in his hands with a deliberate slowness that sent an unmistakable warning. Then, without a word, he stood and left the room.

Amelia swallowed, glaring at the door he had just exited.

"Why is he so grumpy? Like someone stole his favorite candy."

Cora had barely finished her meal when she left Damien's dorm to freshen up and change into a new set of clothes.

But she wasn't alone.

Damien walked with her.

Their presence together only further fueled the whispers that had already begun spreading like wildfire throughout the school. Students murmured amongst themselves, watching the two of them with wide eyes, speculating why the enigmatic prince was so fixated on Cora.

By the time they arrived at the hospital, the tension between them was almost suffocating.

Leonard stood near the entrance, arms crossed, waiting for them.

Cora slipped inside to check on Amelia, leaving Damien and Leonard standing outside.

Leonard's gaze was sharp as he studied Damien, his voice low and deliberate.

"She's the same girl from the past, isn't she?"

A slow, lopsided grin stretched across Damien's lips.

"She is," he confirmed. "But something's… off. Some things aren't adding up."

It was as if the part in his memories where he was with Cora has been broken into peices .

Leonard's frown deepened. "Then what will you do?"

Damien's smile didn't waver. If anything, it became even more cocky.

"I'll figure it out," he mused. "I always do."

While Cora was visiting Amelia, the entire university was in an uproar.

The detective inspector stood at the center of the chaos, delivering a shocking announcement.

"The murderer has been caught," he declared, his voice echoing across the gathering students. "And the culprit is none other than Michael Sandalwood."

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Michael, a freshman, stood in the middle, his hands shackled in silver cuffs. His face was contorted in disbelief, sweat forming along his hairline.

"I didn't do anything! I swear, I didn't kill him!" His voice was raw with desperation. His eyes darted wildly, landing on his girlfriend, who stood at a distance, tears streaming down her face.

The students jeered, hurling accusations at him.

"Murderer!"

"How could you do this?!"

The dean remained eerily silent, standing alongside her assistant Austin, Professor Graves, and other faculty members.

Austin sneered. "I never expected a mere freshman to be capable of such barbarity."

Michael's protests continued, but his cries fell on deaf ears. No one cared if he was innocent or not—he had already been labeled as the killer.

The detective inspector exchanged a brief glance with the dean. There was something in that look—something that reeked of secrecy.

Moments later, Michael was dragged away.

A ship waited at the docks, ready to take him off the island.

As the crowd slowly dispersed, Professor Miles approached the dean.

"The students are shaken," she observed. "They might need some time to process everything."

The dean nodded. "I'll consider it."

Professor Miles hesitated before continuing. "Oscar Island University is… darker than it seems, isn't it?"

The dean simply smiled.

And it was the kind of smile that wasn't human.

Back in the hospital room, Amelia's arms wrapped tightly around Cora, as if checking for hidden injuries.

"I'm fine, Amelia," Cora reassured, though the warmth of the embrace was oddly comforting. "What about you? How's your head?"

Amelia scowled. "It would've been better if I hadn't woken up to that emotionless ice block."

Cora sighed. Even though she hadn't interacted much with Leonard, she understood why Amelia found him unnerving.

As Amelia reached for her phone, she hesitated before speaking.

"Cora… don't you think Damien is acting too protective?"

Cora stiffened slightly.

"I mean, you two barely know each other," Amelia continued. "But he's always around you. Watching you. Like he's…" She trailed off, frowning. "Like he's waiting for something."

Cora swallowed hard.

She didn't know why, but she felt the same way.

Damien Ravenscroft was watching her.

And the worst part?

She didn't know if she should feel protected or hunted.