Married Life

The vampire mansion loomed in the night like a forgotten cathedral, dark spires stretching toward the sky, untouched by time or mortal hands. The massive windows, shattered by the werewolves earlier, had already repaired themselves—black glass weaving together as if the attack had never happened.

Kikidori didn't even glance at them as he stepped inside, his thoughts elsewhere. The moment he crossed the threshold, the heavy doors shut behind him with a deep, echoing thud.

He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. His mind was still tangled with Midori's words. Something was controlling the werewolves. Something powerful. Something old.

And worse?

They were losing.

Kikidori exhaled and walked into the dimly lit living room. The candles were already burning—because, of course, Haruna had an obsession with candlelight. The entire mansion smelled like sandalwood and old books, with just the faintest trace of blood in the air.

He slumped onto the massive, overstuffed couch, sinking into the deep crimson cushions. His muscles still thrummed with tension, his mind calculating their next move.

Then—

Soft footsteps.

He didn't need to turn his head to know exactly who it was.

Haruna.

She strolled in, her wet hair still dripping slightly, wrapped in nothing but a towel. The fabric clung to her, drops of water sliding down her pale skin, catching in the flickering candlelight.

Kikidori barely glanced at her before looking away again, his expression unreadable.

Haruna smirked. "That's it? No reaction?"

Kikidori let his head rest against the back of the couch, eyes half-lidded. "We've been married for two centuries, Haruna."

Haruna pouted dramatically, sauntering over before dropping down beside him, her cold skin brushing against his. "You used to look."

Kikidori smirked. "I used to care."

Haruna gasped, pressing a hand to her heart in mock offense. "Wow."

Kikidori chuckled lowly, his fingers lazily reaching for hers, intertwining them as she leaned against his shoulder. For a moment, it was almost peaceful—a rare thing in their undead existence.

And then—

The towel slipped.

Just—gone.

Fell.

Slid off like it had given up on life.

Kikidori barely reacted, only tilting his head slightly as the fabric hit the floor. Haruna didn't move either, blinking down at herself before sighing.

"Well," she said flatly. "That happened."

Kikidori smirked. "Tied it too loose?"

Haruna stretched, completely unbothered by the situation. "Apparently."

She leaned into him, her lips just barely brushing his ear as she whispered, "Bet you care now."

Kikidori chuckled, his fingers grazing over her bare shoulder, his voice dark and low. "Still not looking."

"Liar."

Before she could say anything else—

"OH FOR THE LOVE OF THE ELDERS, CAN YOU TWO STOP?!"

Haruna and Kikidori both turned at the same time to see Coraline, the tiny black vampire cat, standing in the doorway, her entire existence radiating disapproval.

Her tail flicked aggressively. "This is why I leave the house at night."

Haruna, still completely naked, leaned back against Kikidori and smirked. "Jealous?"

Coraline made a disgusted noise, flicking her ears back. "No, I'm scarred."

Kikidori chuckled, his arm resting along the back of the couch. "Then leave."

Coraline huffed, jumping onto the armrest, glaring at them both. "I would, but I have actual important news. Unlike the two of you, who apparently just sit here and play 'let's see who drops their clothes first.'"

Haruna grinned. "I always win."

Kikidori exhaled. "What do you want, Coraline?"

Coraline sat, her tail flicking in irritation. Then, her yellow eyes narrowed, and her playful attitude vanished.

"It's about the werewolves," she said. "And you two might want to get dressed."

Kikidori and Haruna exchanged a glance.

The moment of peace? Gone.

Something was happening. Something bad.

The End of Chapter 7.