SEBASTIAN

Is it safe to admit I was highly nervous about meeting Silas's mage friend? Not just because it came out of nowhere, but because I had no idea someone else lived with him. I just thought it was some kind of "mage friend" not another High Class like Silas!

"Don't be nervous. I promise, she doesn't bite," Silas said, laughing as his voice startled me from my thoughts.

I turned to see him, a book in hand and a small smile on his lips. For a moment, I stared at his face before shaking my head and looking away.

"I'm not nervous," I mumbled, pulling at the strings of my jacket, tempted to close myself off from everything around me.

I felt Silas place a hand on my shoulder. I turned to meet his gaze again.

"This is very sudden, you know that, right?" I said, glaring at him half-heartedly.

He raised a brow, but I wasn't really angry—just uneasy. This really was sudden. When I agreed to help him, I thought that meant keeping an eye out in case this strange Minerva woman showed up again. Not… whatever this was.

Silas sighed, offering me an apologetic look. "Sorry. Things have been hectic lately. Finding Minerva is my main focus, but we're also required to protect this area. So… side missions here and there."

I nodded. I understood. It's no wonder he was sometimes late or skipped class, though he still somehow managed to maintain perfect grades. I couldn't figure out how he did it.

Meanwhile, I could barely force myself to study. And even when I did, I was usually too tired—or lazy—to pick up a book.

Maybe I could learn a thing or two from Silas. Maybe this is just what it means to be a High-Class Mage.

"It's fine, really," I said, waving a hand dismissively. "I totally understand. It's just… are you sure she won't try to stake me or something? Is that how vampires die?" I added with a small grin.

Silas barked a laugh.

"A stake? What are you, five? Vampires don't die that easily. Sure, a stake to the heart can almost kill you, but what really does the job is light magic. Light Mages are usually vampires' worst enemies. Dark Mages? Not so much," he shrugged.

I hummed thoughtfully. 

How interesting then, for me to befriend Silas, a light mage, when he is an enemy of my kind. How ironic 

—

"Calm down," Silas whispered beside me as my leg bounced uncontrollably. Calm down? How could I? The moment I saw her—Fumiko Shira—I knew I was doomed.

She was a woman who stood almost six feet tall, her long hair tied neatly into a bun. But that wasn't what terrified me.

It was the way she looked at me. The way she spoke to me. She had an aura that screamed she could snap me in half with her bare hands.

And me? I'd spent my entire life thinking I was the odd one out, the different one. This was... a culture shock, okay?!

The second I stepped into Silas's house, she looked at me like I was the bane of her existence. The thought of her actually ending my life—right here, right now—didn't seem far-fetched. And Silas—high-class mage that he was—could he even protect me from someone like her?

God—

"Hey, relax. She's just messing with you, you know that, right?" Silas placed a hand on my arm. I must've looked like I was about to hurl my guts out because, well, that's exactly how I felt.

My stomach churned at the thought of seeing Fumiko again. She'd only gone to the kitchen for water, but every second she was away felt like a guillotine blade hovering over my neck. The moment she came back? That'd be it. My head would roll.

What a terrifying woman.

Silas's hand grabbed mine, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts. He grinned as he held something up to my face.

"It's a lollipop I made for you. Don't worry—it's not regular candy or anything. It's just blood."

I blinked at him, already having caught the faint metallic scent while we were walking to his house.

So that's what it was. I'd assumed it was another one of those juice boxes he sometimes carried around. But no—he'd gone out of his way to make this for me.

If I had a working heart, I was sure it would've been pounding by now. If I had enough blood in my body, my face would've been red.

"Th-Thanks," I stammered, taking the lollipop with a sheepish smile. "You didn't have to, you know. I didn't join up with you just to use you for blood or anything."

Silas chuckled softly. "I know. But blood's still important for a vampire, and you're looking gray and tired again. Don't think I haven't noticed."

I nearly flushed at that comment.

He noticed.

No one else ever noticed. Not my family. Not even Kath, my closest friend, who was usually so attuned to what I was feeling. I'd always wondered why they never picked up on the changes in me—especially the way I looked.

But now that Silas had pointed it out, I realized he was right. I did look sick. My skin was pale, almost gray. Even with my fangs retracted, they still looked unnaturally long—like I'd modified them to look that way.

"Jeez," I mumbled, embarrassed. "You notice everything."

It wasn't every day someone went out of their way to care for me like this. I wasn't exactly anyone's first choice. Not Kath, who had plenty of friends. Not Torie, who had her own circle of people. And certainly not my parents, who clearly preferred Torie over me—they just never said it outright.

Not that I minded. I liked staying out of the spotlight. Attention made me uncomfortable.

But for some reason, having Silas's attention wasn't so bad.

I glanced at him, only to find him grinning again.

What am I thinking?

I bit down on the lollipop, my fangs extended fully as I accidentally snapped the whole thing off with a loud crunch. The plastic stick broke in half, the sound startling even Silas. His grin dropped, replaced by a raised brow.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Fine, thanks," I muttered, looking away in embarrassment.

And then I froze.

Fumiko had returned.

She carried a tray with two glasses of water, her glare slicing through me as she set it down on the coffee table.

"Take the other couch," she ordered, her voice stern.

Before I realized it, I was already on my feet, moving to the smaller couch without a word.

"Shira, that's rude. He's my guest," Silas whined.

Fumiko ignored him, sitting beside Silas and crossing her arms. Her piercing gaze landed on me.

"You. Talk."

I let out an involuntary squeak. "I—I, uh, my name is Sebastian Gray. I've been a vampire for a year and ten months now."

My hands were clammy—something that shouldn't even be possible, given that I was technically dead. My heart couldn't race, but I swore I felt it thudding in my chest.

Fumiko raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. She leaned forward, her tone sharp. "That's all? You've done nothing with your vampiric abilities? You do know you're much stronger than a normal human now."

I nodded quickly. "I—I know. But I haven't had a reason to use them. I'm just a high school student, so… aside from helping my dad fix stuff around the house…" I chuckled awkwardly, trailing off.

"I told you, he's clean. He's not suspicious," Silas piped up, elbowing Fumiko lightly. "I checked everything—no strange deaths in this town." He shot me a wink when I glanced nervously at him.

Fumiko huffed, unconvinced.

"Sebastian," she said, her voice cold. "You can easily overpower a grown man and take their blood. Why don't you?"

I frowned at that. It was true—the smell of blood was enough to make me lose control sometimes. But I refused to give in.

"I don't want to hurt anyone," I said simply.

Her eyes narrowed.

It wasn't a lie. The thought of hurting someone—of doing to them what had been done to me—was enough to make me sick.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Silas grin. If my heart were still beating, it would've stuttered at the look he gave me.

"So," Fumiko continued, "I heard that to control your hunger, you indulge in sleep?"

I nodded, clasping my hands nervously in my lap. "I—I do."

"Hmm." Her gaze swept over me, lingering on my face before moving down to my body. "It's surprising no one's noticed your lack of aging yet. You're tall for your age. What was it—14 years old? You're young to be a vampire."

I scratched my cheek awkwardly. "Yeah, thankfully I look tall enough to pass for a 17-year-old or so…"

"Do you remember how you were turned?" she asked.

I shook my head. "No. All I remember is snow and blood. And then… I was home."

Her expression softened slightly, though I caught a flicker of pity in her eyes. It irked me, but I wasn't about to complain—not if it meant she wouldn't carve my heart out on the spot.

And just like that, her terrifying interrogation ended.

I could only hope I'd passed her test.