Chapter II

I crawled toward the woman's lifeless body, hands trembling. Her skin was still warm, but she wasn't moving—no matter how I shook her, she wouldn't wake up. "H-Hey…" I choked out, shaking her again.

"Wake up. Please, wake up…" But there was no response. Just silence. Just the sinking truth. She was dead. She was really gone.

And it was because of me.

My fingers trembled as I reached up to close her eyes. "Requiescas en pace," I whispered, my voice breaking as tears finally fell. I let myself cry. Let the weight settle. Let it burn.

But then I felt it.

A familiar presence—a vampire. But this one was nothing like Adante or his men. It was stronger. Heavier. There was power in the air—undeniable and suffocating. This one wasn't a scout or soldier. This one was a royal.

I wiped my tears and scrambled back to the dugout. Lifting the wooden hatch, I slipped down and shut it behind me, then collapsed onto my back and curled into myself, arms wrapped tightly around my knees.

And then—there it is.

A creak from the floor.

A strong presence enters the house, and I can't help but feel a shiver crawl across my skin. A quake in my core. A suffocating heartbeat pounding in my chest.

With each creak, he draws closer. I can see him—faintly. Just a silhouette, nothing more. The only light comes from the dim night lamp in the corner of the room.

He walks slowly. Controlled. Observant. I watch as he approaches the woman's lifeless body. Then—silence.

I swallow hard.

Moments pass. Then he speaks.

His voice is dark. Heavy. Dangerous.

"Mănâncă." A single word, cold and commanding.

A flock of birds—or bats—came flying into the house. Loud. Aggressive. The sound of their wings slashing through the air echoed violently in the silence.

And then I heard it.

The sound of flesh being torn. Chewed. Eaten.

"Hmf—" I slapped a hand over my mouth, gagging. My stomach twisted, bile rising to my throat.

I knew exactly what was happening.

The rumors were true.

I'd heard them before. Whispers, warnings. This one—he's the heir of the De Noctis family. The crazy, psychotic bastard who toys with Hunters for sport.

They say he loves dueling with them. That if he ever catches one, he either feeds them to his pets—his bats—or severs their heads and preserves them like trophies inside his castle.

He's a dangerous one. The one I don't even want to encounter.

Then I heard it—a laugh. Low. Sinister. Coming from him.

I swallowed hard.

His footsteps creaked against the floorboards, slow and deliberate, each one drawing closer to where I hid. I froze. My breath hitched.

Through the narrow slats of the wooden floor, I saw his silhouette.

Then his eyes—glowing red. Staring directly at me.

He smiled.

"Hi."

My eyes widened. I shook my head.

No. No.

In one effortless motion, he lifted the wooden hatch, revealing me completely. My body curled tighter, but I couldn't escape the wave crashing through me—the familiar ache of hopelessness, the paralyzing weight of powerlessness.

It felt like the moments I'd been caught by Adante. But worse.

This time, it wasn't just fear. It was true horror.

"No! Don't touch me—no!" I screamed, my voice cracking with fear as he reached for me.

But he didn't stop.

Instead, he laughed. Low. Cruel.

The moment his cold hand met my skin, something twisted in the back of my mind—a strange, unwanted sense of security. Familiar, even. But it was buried beneath the crushing weight of despair and terror.

I felt like a fish trapped in a net, flailing for water I couldn't breathe in. Suffocating.

I struggled, clawing at his arms with all the strength I had left. But it was useless.

He wrapped his arms around me, pinning mine in place like they were nothing. Then, with terrifying ease, he lifted me—like I weighed nothing at all.

I writhed in his grip, desperate to escape, but every movement only made me look more pathetic. Weaker. Powerless.

And all he did was hold me tighter.

"Hush, little one. I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered into my ear, and I shivered.

"Please… don't kill me. Let me go," I begged—cried, really. I looked up at him, met his eyes, then quickly looked away.

I was terrified.

"Kill you?" he echoed, chuckling darkly. The laugh morphed into a smirk. "Let's see."

He walked toward the kitchen, dragging me along until he pulled out a wooden chair. With one arm still holding me, he sat me down. His grip finally loosened.

For a moment, I thought of running—shoving him away and bolting out the door. But deep down, I knew I wouldn't make it past the first step.

So I stayed there. Crying. Pathetic.

"Please," I whimpered, my voice breaking, "I'll do whatever you want. Just don't kill me. I—I don't want to die. Not yet. Please—"

His finger pressed against my lips, silencing me.

"Shh," he said, voice colder now. "Stop talking. You're starting to annoy me."

The amusement on his face was fading. His brow creased, eyes darkening.

I obeyed. I didn't speak. Not a word.

But I couldn't stop crying. Hot tears slipped from my eyes, one after the other, as I sat there trembling, broken—pathetic.

And then he leaned in, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear before his cold hand cupped my neck. He angled my head to the side, inhaling deeply against my skin. I trembled, frozen. I didn't even try to fight—I didn't have it in me. Not the strength. Not the courage.

His touch was winter itself, stealing the warmth from my body.

"Mmm…" he hummed, his breath ghosting over my skin before his tongue slid across it. "Sweet. Mind if I take a bite?"

I shook my head furiously and tried to push him away, but he didn't even flinch.

My eyes met his in silent pleading.

That amused gleam returned, and his smirk deepened. His gaze flicked from my eyes to my lips, then he bit his own lower lip—hard enough to draw blood.

My eyes widened just as he crashed his lips against mine. His mouth opened, and his tongue forced its way in. I tasted it—thick, metallic, searing. The blood of a royal.

It burned.

"Mmmph!" I struggled, pushing against his chest, hitting him—but he wouldn't move.

The kiss deepened, and so did the pain. It was as if fire had bloomed inside my mouth. Every drop of his blood, every swirl of his tongue, scalded the inside of me.

Then finally, he pulled away. Our foreheads touched, breaths ragged and mingling.

"Really sweet, little one," he murmured.

But it wasn't over.

Without warning, he tilted my neck again, and then came the sharp sting—like a needle sinking deep, like a bee drawing nectar from a bloom. Only this time, it was my blood he was taking. And he drank like he hadn't tasted anything so addictive in centuries.

I felt it immediately. My body weakening. My mind fading. My vision blurring at the edges as my strength drained with every pull.

But just before the world slipped into black—

I saw him.

The heir of De Noctis, backing away in a panic. Coughing. Choking. Blood pouring from his lips, from his eyes. Screaming in agony.

I smirked. A faint one.

As I crashed down from the chair, I saw the truth of my kind—a blood so lethal it can kill even the highest and powerful being.