#vampire nct

But your sole focus is on fleeing. You're oblivious to what or who you're running from until he materializes before you, a figure without a face. Your breath hitches, your feet freeze, and a cold sweat breaks out on your forehead. You inch backward, your steps slow and deliberate, each movement a desperate attempt to escape his grasp.

"No, no, no. Please." You cry, but you don't bother screaming for help. You know no one will hear you, and if they do, they won't bother coming to your rescue.

Your pleas count for nothing. Each step you take back is a step the faceless man takes towards you. His aura is suffocating. You have no idea what he wants with you, but you know it's nothing short of evil.

And then, in a blink, he's gone, leaving you in a desolate void. The silence, so thick you could cut it with a knife, envelops you. Your isolation, like a heavy cloak, wraps around you, making you feel small and insignificant. You're left to your own devices, still treading, still hoping for a way out. "Where did you go?" You call foolishly into the dark night, feeling on edge since you couldn't see the man anymore.

That's when you back right into his arms, your body stiffening when you feel his breath on your neck. The realization of your impending doom, a heavy weight on your chest, hits you like a ton of bricks. It's too late to beg. He's not here to reason with you—you're well aware of that. Instead, you close your eyes and clench your fist, your heart pounding in your ears while you wait for the worst to happen. 

He takes his time pushing your hair out of the way with his long, slim, pale fingers. “I got you,” he says lowly into your ear before his lips graze over the skin of your neck. The smoothness of his lips is replaced by sharp fangs teasing at your skin. 

You suck your bottom lip in between your teeth, ready for the sting. However, moments pass, and nothing happens. Too afraid to move, you slowly open your eyes. 

The light of the red moon is replaced with the yellow sunshine peeking into your bedroom. Instead of screeching birds, you hear your alarm clock. You suck in a long deep breath before you reach to snooze the alarm. 

As you leap out of bed, you give yourself a quick slap to wake up. You begin your day just like every morning: first, you check the mirror to monitor your weight loss progress. Then, you brush your teeth, get dressed, and have breakfast.

You prefer your meals in silence, but today, you decide to watch the news. Clicking the TV on as you make your way to the kitchen and heat up dinner from two nights ago. 

You wait patiently for the microwave to beep; when it does, you take your food out and sit on the sofa directly in front of you. The television is still going when you take your first bite.

The case of the missing man who jumped out of an airplane three years ago is a tragic reminder of the importance of mental health aw-''

That's enough of that. 

With a quick click, the TV blinks off, leaving you with the soft hum of the microwave and the familiar, hollow quiet. You prefer it that way, the kind of silence you’ve been drawn to for as long as you can remember. Your parents had tried to coax you out of it when you were a kid, always encouraging you to make friends, to get out more. But some habits are hard to break.

You enjoyed solitude because of the silence that came with it. It always gave you plenty of time to think, which you could also argue was the same reason you hated being alone. But in those moments, there was a certain comfort, a peace that enveloped you.  

It protected you from the dangers of the unknown. Who knew what would happen if you were to let someone else in your life, to be with them one day and to miss them the next. You liked the solitude because it protected you from trauma and You had your fair share of trauma, although you wouldn't necessarily call it "fair." With everything that happened right before you even turned 18, you'd argue that it was anything but fair.

You thought the worst had already happened, but the voicemail your doctor left you yesterday afternoon makes you feel like you haven't even scratched the surface.

"Hello, Y/n, I've been trying to reach you, but I understand you're busy. The test results are in, and I think it's important for us to discuss them in person. How about meeting tomorrow at 2 pm?"

The doctor’s voice had been calm, professional, but you could hear it, that faint edge to his words that told you this was more than just a routine follow-up. You’re old enough to know they don’t ask you to come in person unless something’s really wrong.

“How’s your week been?”

Doctor Jeong’s voice is steady as he pulls out a chair, gesturing for you to sit. The gesture is routine, almost too casual for what feels like a moment drenched in unbearable anticipation. You take the offered seat, though your hands fidget in your lap, fingertips tapping a nervous rhythm against the fabric of your pants. You’ve been trying to convince yourself all day that this is nothing—just a follow-up, maybe some new medication—but the sinking feeling in your stomach betrays that fragile lie.

“Pretty slow,” you admit, your voice quieter than you expected, barely masking the nerves that coil tighter with each passing second. “Why did you call me here today?”

Doctor Jeong lets out a long, deliberate breath, the kind that carries the weight of difficult words before they're spoken. As he sits across from you, you study his face. The last time you saw him, he greeted you with a wide, dimpled smile—a face full of warmth and ease. But now, that warmth is gone. His eyes avoid yours, his smile faded into something distant and cold.

“There’s never an easy way to say this,” he mutters, his gaze flicking toward the floor, the walls—anywhere but you.

You feel it before the words even leave his mouth. A sudden tightness in your chest. The faintest tremble in your fingertips. The world seems to slow, as if holding its breath. You swallow thickly.

“I’m dying, aren’t I?” The words come out flat, emotionless, though the sound of them hangs heavy in the sterile air between you. The shock registers somewhere in the back of your mind, but your voice sounds so calm, almost detached. You weren’t expecting to say it—didn’t even realize you were thinking it—but there it is, hanging between you like a dark cloud.

Doctor Jeong presses his lips into a thin line, his silence answering more than words ever could.

It’s not like you hadn’t seen this coming. Your health was never something you took seriously, and every bad habit you’d clung to rushes to the forefront of your mind: the sugary sodas, the endless nights spent awake staring at the ceiling, the way you avoided exercise like it was something foreign and impossible.

“How long?” you ask, your voice almost a whisper.

Doctor Jeong shifts in his seat, hesitating. “Well, it’s difficult to predict these kinds of things, but according to—”

You see his lips moving, but the sound seems to fade, as if someone has turned down the volume on the world. His words blur into nothing, lost in the growing numbness that creeps over you like a blanket you can’t push off. You don’t want to hear the details, not really. The exact number of days, weeks, months—it doesn’t matter. Deep down, part of you would rather not know. Maybe you’re not ready to face the specifics.

Ignorance, in this moment, feels like a comfort you’re not ready to give up.

You leave the office feeling distorted, like the world around you has blurred at the edges. The bustling chatter of the hospital swells, its noise swallowing your thoughts as you walk, one foot in front of the other. It’s automatic. You’re barely aware of the people moving past you, the hum of life around you continuing as if nothing monumental had just happened.

 You want to cry, you have every reason to. Life was just beginning for you; things were just getting a little easier, and in the same breath, it was also ending. 

Despite how heartbroken you feel, your eyes remain dry. Your world is crashing down on you and all you can do is accept it. There's no point in crying about it; it won't change anything. It won't bring your family back, and it won't save your life. 

You stop for a moment, closing your eyes, your hand sweeping your hair back from your face. A deep, trembling breath escapes your lips. You keep your eyes closed for a second, maybe two—but it’s all the time it takes for you to collide head-on into something solid. Someone.

You stumble backward, blinking in surprise. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, barely coherent as you scramble away, your heart lurching in your chest. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

The stranger you’ve bumped into towers over you, still as stone, his gaze locking onto yours. It freezes you in place, something about the intensity of his eyes stopping you from moving, from even thinking. For a heartbeat, the world narrows down to just the two of you.

You blink once.

And he’s gone.

Your breath catches in your throat as you look around wildly, but there’s no trace of him—no footsteps fading down the hall, no sign that anyone had been there at all. The doctor had mentioned hallucinations. Something about your test results, though you can’t remember the details. Hadn’t he said the word a few times?

This is going to get old really fast, you think bitterly, shaking your head as you push through the hospital doors and into the street.

“You’re late,” a voice snaps as soon as you step foot into the near-empty café.

“I’m sorry, I had…prior engagements.” The words spill from you without much thought as you stride into the back, your coworker’s irritated tone barely registering. You don’t even spare her a glance, which is unusual, but today, nothing feels normal.

Surprisingly, she doesn’t follow you or pester you like usual. She just rolls her eyes and goes back to her task, leaving you to let out a small sigh of relief as you toss your bag into the locker. You lean against the cold metal for a moment, willing yourself to focus, to snap out of this haze, before heading back out front.

Sliding behind the register, you force yourself to put on your work face. “Welcome to—” you start, but your voice falters when your eyes lock onto the man standing at the counter.

It’s him. The man from the hospital. The one you ran into.

Your coworker nudges your arm, breaking you out of your daze. “Sorry about her. She’s new,” she lies, covering for your sudden silence.

You blink hard, trying to collect yourself. 

She can see him too? 

You hesitate, then ask, “What can I get you this evening?”

The man doesn’t respond. Not a word. He simply slides a finger over the menu, his eyes never leaving yours as he makes his selection. The gesture sends a cold shiver down your spine. It’s unnerving, the way he just stands there, silent but present, too present.

Maybe he just has a speaking disability. 

Your brain scrambles to make sense of the situation, to rationalize what happened earlier and what’s happening now. But nothing explains the way your heart pounds in your chest or how everything feels slightly off-kilter.

“One small americano?” you confirm, your voice a little shakier than you’d like. The man just stares, his face blank and unreadable. “Can I get anything else for you?” you ask again, but there’s still no answer.

“Okay, your total is five dollars and five cents,” you say, forcing a smile.

You blink.

He’s gone.

Your breath stutters, and your pulse quickens. The sweat pooling in your palms tells you this isn’t just stress. That wasn’t a hallucination. It felt too real. Your eyes dart around the café, searching for him, but he’s vanished, just like before.

You turn frantically to your coworker. “You saw him too, right?” you whisper, your voice tight with desperation.

She frowns. “Saw who?”

“The customer. The one who was just here. You saw him… You spoke to him.”

Her confusion deepens, and she steps closer, eyeing you warily. “Are you on something?”

You freeze, the weight of her question sinking in. Maybe the hallucinations were worse than you’d thought. Maybe you were far more ill than the doctor had let on. A deep, unsettling fear begins to rise inside you, gnawing at the edges of your mind.

“I’m just joking,” you blurt out, forcing a strained smile. “I’m messing with you.”

Your coworker’s frown deepens, clearly unimpressed. “That’s not funny, Y/n. For a second, I thought I’d have to sedate you.”

You laugh, though it feels forced, hollow. “I can’t believe you fell for that.”

But inside, your thoughts whirl in chaos. What just happened? And more importantly—what’s happening to you?

You release a long, exhausted sigh as you finally reach your apartment. Today has drained every last ounce of energy from your body, and all you want is to collapse onto the couch and disappear into sleep for the next decade. Everything—the diagnosis, the confusion, the eerie encounters—feels like a weight pressing down on you, and the silence of your apartment seems like the only refuge.

You toss your keys on the counter, already imagining the comfort of your worn-out sofa, when a sharp knock echoes through the hallway.

You freeze, the sound jarring in the stillness of your home. “I’m coming,” you mutter to yourself, more out of habit than anything else, as you drag your feet toward the door. You’re not expecting anyone. Maybe it's just a neighbor or a delivery at the wrong apartment.

Peering through the peephole, you see… nothing. The hallway is empty. For a moment, you feel your heart rate spike, your breath catching in your throat, but then you shake your head. Probably just some kids messing around, you reason, or maybe someone got the unit number mixed up. It wouldn’t be the first time.

You turn to head back to your sanctuary, but then—another knock.

This one is slower. Louder. The kind that crawls under your skin, demanding to be answered.

You hesitate this time, the weight of the day’s events pressing harder against your chest. Something feels wrong. But curiosity—or maybe something else—pulls you toward the door. Your hand trembles as you unlock it, and when you pull it open, your breath stumbles in your throat.

He’s there.

The same tall, pale figure you’d run into outside the hospital. The one whose presence felt too real to dismiss as a hallucination. His eyes are fixed on you, dark and unsettling, yet utterly emotionless.

A cold shiver races down your spine. The hundred questions running through your mind crash into one another, jumbling into chaos, but only one stumbles out from your lips.

 “What are you?”

“A vampire?” you repeat, sliding a cup of tea across the table toward the man whose name you learned was Jungwoo. It’s surreal, really—growing up, you’d always believed vampires were nothing more than bedtime stories, cautionary tales to keep children from wandering into the dark. But here he is, sitting in your living room, looking every bit the part. Pale skin, sharp fangs, and a presence that feels ancient.

Despite the strangeness of it all, you handed him tea as if it were the most natural thing in the world, like you’ve invited vampires over for drinks before. Maybe it’s because you’re already dealing with too much to feel the fear. Or maybe it’s because some part of you still can’t believe any of this is real.

“I usually get a different reaction,” Jungwoo says, a faint trace of amusement playing on his lips. “Most people either scream or run for the nearest stake.”

“Well, I figured tea would be more appropriate,” you murmur. “If you wanted to kill me, you would’ve done it by now.”

Jungwoo raises an eyebrow at that, clearly intrigued. You, on the other hand, are still processing the fact that the man across from you—who, despite the calm demeanor, could drain you of blood in seconds—is sitting there sipping tea. His icy cold hands wrap around the mug, and you wonder how he feels warmth, if at all.

You hesitate before speaking again, a nervous laugh slipping through. “I still don’t believe you’re real… I mean, I know what you are, but how do I know I’m not just imagining all of this?” You flinch when Jungwoo reaches across the table, his fingers brushing lightly against yours. He guides your hand up to his cheek, letting you feel his icy skin, solid and unmistakably real.

A shiver races down your spine. "I'm not hallucinating,” you whisper, your voice shaky with both realization and disbelief.

“And yet, you’re still not afraid.” His tone shifts, a bit softer now, almost as though he’s genuinely curious about your lack of fear.

You pull your hand away, glancing down at the tea. “Why would I be? You haven’t given me a reason to be afraid.”

Jungwoo studies you, his dark eyes lingering on your face, searching for something he can’t quite place. In all his years—and there have been many—humans had reacted to him in predictable ways: fear, awe, or a twisted fascination with his kind. You’re different. Calm. Even kind.

“How come you aren’t trying to bite me?” you ask, breaking the silence. “Isn’t that why you’re here? For blood?”

“I can’t bite you,” Jungwoo admits, his voice dropping lower, almost like he’s revealing a secret. He looks at you, his gaze lingering longer than it should. There’s something about you—your scent, your presence—that’s unlike anyone he’s encountered. It’s intoxicating, but not in the usual way. The pull is there, but… something stops him.

You blink in confusion. “Why not?”

Jungwoo pauses, his eyes clouding with something you can’t quite read. “That’s what I’m here to figure out.”

The conversation fades into the quiet hum of the apartment, the tension hanging in the air even as the night wears on. By the time you wake up the next morning, Jungwoo is long gone. If it weren’t for the two empty tea cups sitting on the coffee table, you might’ve convinced yourself it was all a dream.

But the cups are there. So was he.

You shake your head, not wanting to dwell too much on the bizarre events of the day before. There’s too much already on your plate, and you promised yourself you wouldn’t think about it—or about your diagnosis, or your inevitable death.

Routine helps. You go through the motions, brushing your teeth, checking your reflection in the mirror for any subtle changes. You wonder, Can people tell? Do I look like I’m dying? You sigh, knowing that most wouldn’t notice even if you had a visible wound. Your co-worker Yeri certainly wouldn’t.

You shake your head to rid yourself of unwanted thoughts. You had already promised yourself that you wouldn’t think of dying today. 

“You’re late,” Yeri snaps the moment you step into the café. You’re not, but that never stopped her before. The glass door swings shut behind you as you force yourself to mumble an apology, heading straight to the back room to store your things.

“If you keep this up, they’ll fire you,” she warns, following you like a shadow. Her voice grates on your already frayed nerves.

“I said I'm sorry, Yeri. It won’t happen again. I don’t know what else you want me to do?” You sigh. 

“I want you to do better. You come in everyday with a sad little frown looking like someone’s lost puppy and that’s if you’re on time which most of the time you aren’t.” She argues, “You act as if there’s nothing to smile about.”

You want to yell, “I’m dying.” but you don’t. You know it wouldn’t make a difference and the last thing you wanted was a pity party on a random tuesday morning. “How about I just take today off?” You force the words out, your voice strained but firm. “I don’t know if I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Yeri opens her mouth, probably to argue or insult you, but you don’t give her the chance. You’re already halfway out the door, leaving her stunned and speechless behind you.

The second you step into your apartment, the tension crashes over you, and you collapse onto your couch, burying your face in your hands. Everything is catching up to you—the diagnosis, the uncertainty, and the suffocating weight of what’s to come.

“Tough day?”

The voice startles you, and you look up to find Jungwoo sitting calmly across from you. There’s something oddly comforting about his sudden appearance, almost as if you’ve been waiting for him to show up.

“You can teleport,” you say, not bothering to hide your exhaustion.

Jungwoo nods, a faint smile curling on his lips. "I can do a lot of things."

With a casual flick of his finger, the television hums to life, flipping through channels faster than you can follow. The room dims as a dark fantasy film begins to play. Before you can even react, another flick of his hand plunges the apartment into complete darkness. You stand frozen, breath catching in your throat, until, just as suddenly, the lights flicker back on.

You blink, not frightened, but intrigued—curiosity sparking like a flame inside you. "Can you turn into a bat?"

Jungwoo's expression remains flat, unimpressed. His brow arches slightly, as if you’ve just asked a child’s question. You shake your head at yourself, a bit embarrassed. "I guess not."

You frown thoughtfully, feeling the need to push him further. "What else can you do?"

Before he can respond, something flashes in the air—cold, metallic—a knife. It moves faster than your mind can comprehend, flying straight toward Jungwoo. Your breath hitches, and instinct takes over. You squeeze your eyes shut, hands flying up to shield your face, heart pounding in your chest.

A moment passes in silence.

"You can look now," Jungwoo's voice carries a teasing lilt, calm and steady.

Slowly, you peel your hands away from your face, peeking through your fingers. There, embedded deep in his chest, is the knife—its handle sticking out, the blade buried to the hilt. But there’s no blood. Not a drop. Jungwoo stands unfazed, even as he pulls the blade out with a soft metallic whisper, setting it down gently on the table in front of you. The knife gleams, spotless, as if untouched. Your reflection stares back at you through the silver of the blade.

“You can’t die," you murmur, more to yourself than to him.

Jungwoo smirks, his eyes flickering with something between amusement and exasperation. "You’re a smart one, aren’t you?"

Without thinking, you rise from your seat, stepping closer to him. Your gaze is locked on the spot where the knife had pierced him. Before you know it, your hand is hovering over his chest. You hesitate for a second, but then press your palm against him, right over where his heart should be.

“You really are a vampire.” The words come out softly, as if the reality is only now sinking in. The lack of a heartbeat beneath your hand feels surreal, and yet oddly comforting, in a way you can’t explain. It makes your mind wander.

“I can’t turn you.” Jungwoo’s voice breaks the silence. The words are sharp, deliberate.

Your hand snaps back as you look up at him, startled. “How did you know I was thinking that?”

“Because you just said it.”

“No, I didn’t." Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Can you hear my thoughts?"

“Vampires don’t read minds," Jungwoo replies dismissively. He’s gone in a blink, reappearing casually on your sofa, lounging as if he’s been there for hours.

The sight makes your head spin, but you steady yourself, forcing your mind to catch up. You turn to face him, still standing in the middle of the room. “Were you always a vampire?”

He shrugs, almost lazily, his eyes focused on something distant, as if remembering a past you can’t even begin to fathom. “I’m a half-breed. My dad was a vampire, my mom was human.”

That catches your interest, and you move to sit across from him. There’s something about him—his calm, his unshakable presence—that makes you feel strangely safe, despite everything. "What happened to them?" you ask, your voice softer now.

“My mom died when I was young. My dad loved her too much to live without her, so he had her stab him on her deathbed,” Jungwoo says with a grim edge, as if recounting something too far removed from the present to hurt anymore. "It’s just been me and my brother for the last two hundred years or so."

Your eyes widen. "You have a brother?"

“We don’t talk much these days.” The pale man helps himself to a fresh cup of tea with the wave of his finger. “What about you? Where’s your family?” 

You suck in a deep sigh, “They’re dead. My biological parents died right after I was born and my adopted parents died four years after they adopted me. I never had any siblings so I've been alone since I ran away from the orphanage at eighteen.” You press your lips together when you make eye contact with Jungwoo.

Jungwoo looks at you, his eyes softer now, the stoic mask he wore earlier replaced with something kinder. You feel your heart thud in your chest as the weight of your own words settles between you.

“But you know what that’s like, right? Being alone.” You shift the conversation, trying to divert the attention away from yourself.

“I do. I know it all too well.” Jungwoo places his teacup on the table with a soft clink, his gaze flicking away. When he looks back, his eyes have changed—where they were a warm, subtle brown before, now they’re black, endless. "But what can you do?" His voice is colder now, detached, but there’s something simmering underneath.

“What if I don’t want to be alone?” You say cautiously, “I’m dying soon and I don’t even have anyone to tell.” 

“You should be happy.” Jungwoo almost whispers, “You have a way out.” 

“That’s easy for you to say. You had two hundred years to see and learn everything you wanted.”

“I hope you don’t think my life was easy.” He chuckles, but it lacks humor. “I’ve seen years of hardship and doom.  Do you know what it feels like to watch everyone you love die and there’s nothing you can do about it?” His gaze pierces you, searching for understanding. “I may be a vampire but I still have a heart, even if it doesn’t beat.” 

“Do you know what it’s like to fend for yourself your entire life, and the second things get easier and you feel like you can start feeling hopeful for life. You find out that everything was for nothing.” Jungwoo remains quiet and you turn your head so he doesn’t see the tears threatening to fall. 

“How ironic, a mortal human who wants to live and a vampire who wants to die” You muttered. 

Yeri remained silent when you walked into the cafe, aside from the judging stares and condescending comments she murmured under her breath. You liked the peace that came with working in a cafe, and you liked it even more when you didn't have someone breathing down your neck. 

"Welcome to Dreamers Café. What can I get for you today?" you asked, your voice soft but professional, as you focused on the register.

"I’ll take the usual."

That voice. Familiar, warm, and unmistakable. Your head shot up at the sound, and an involuntary smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

"Hendery," you exhaled, relief mingling with surprise. "It’s been a while."

He grinned at you from across the counter, his eyes glinting with playful mischief. "Here I was, thinking you’d forgotten all about me."

"As if," you chuckled, shaking your head. "You’re our favorite customer. I could never forget."

Unbeknownst to you, Jungwoo watches the interaction take place from the quietest corner of the coffee shop, his lips nearly curving up into a smirk when he sees your smile for the first time. He observes the way you look at Hendery like there's some kind of uncertainty there. He's been around humans long enough to know that look.

"Here’s your americano," you said, sliding the cup over to Hendery. Your movements were careful, precise—like always.

Hendery took the cup, his gaze lingering on you. "I stopped by because I’ve been thinking about you," he said, his voice a little softer now. “If you remember the last time we spoke…" 

"I agreed to a date," you said, finishing his sentence before he could. You offered a small, apologetic smile. "Look, Hendery, I’ve been super busy lately, and my head’s just been all over the place. I don’t want to bore you with all of that."

Hendery nodded, though you could see the faint disappointment in his eyes as he absorbed your words. "I understand," he replied, his tone sincere but carrying a tinge of sadness. "But if you ever call, just know... I’ll drop everything and take you wherever you want to go. No questions asked."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, touched by his sincerity. "That’s really sweet of you, Hendery. I might take you up on that offer," you said, offering him a small, genuine smile.

He hesitated before leaving, his eyes holding yours for a beat longer. "I hope it’s soon," was the last thing he said before turning and walking out of the café. You didn’t linger on him leaving, though. Instead, you busied yourself with cleaning up, and other various tasks until it's time to close down the store. 

It wasn’t until you looked outside that you realized how bad the storm had gotten. The sky was a blanket of pitch-black clouds, the streetlights casting faint halos of light onto the wet pavement. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and occasional flashes of lightning illuminated the rain pouring down in sheets.

You cursed yourself for not checking the weather earlier.

As you prepared to brave the storm, you noticed a figure moving toward you through the rain, tall and shadowy, an umbrella held above his head. The closer he got, the more familiar his silhouette became, and soon, Jungwoo came into view, his pale features striking against the backdrop of the storm.

"What are you doing here?" you asked as he approached, surprised but not entirely unwelcoming.

Without a word, Jungwoo shifted the umbrella over your head, shielding you from the rain. "I figured I should apologize," he said, his voice low, almost drowned out by the rain. "I was inconsiderate last night."

His presence felt almost calming, and despite the storm around you, there was something comforting about him being there. You bit back a smile, tilting your head slightly. "In that case, maybe I owe you an apology too," you replied. "Let’s just call it even."

Jungwoo’s mouth curved into a small smile, one that revealed his fangs. Without a word, he gestured for you to start walking, falling into step beside you as you made your way down the rain-soaked street.

The storm didn’t feel so bad with him there. The steady patter of rain against the umbrella, the occasional flash of lightning—it was almost calming. Even a little romantic, if you let yourself think about it that way.

After a few minutes of silence, Jungwoo spoke up, his voice breaking through the rhythm of the rain. "Who is he?”

You don't have to ask to know who he's talking about. "Hendery, he's a regular customer. He's asked me out a few times."

Jungwoo didn’t say anything for a moment, just walked beside you, his eyes focused ahead. You glanced over, trying to read him, but his expression was as unreadable as ever.

"Do you like him?" 

You shake your head." I feel like I'm supposed to. He's sweet and considerate, but there's just something missing." Jungwoo remains quiet as you continue pondering, "Maybe it's because my standards are too high. I've never actually been in love before, and I guess there's a reason for that." 

The silence stretches comfortably between you as you walk, the sound of rain pattering against the umbrella becoming a soothing backdrop. Finally, you decide to ask, "Have you ever been in love?"

"Only once, a long time ago." Jungwoo keeps his answer short and sweet. 

"What was it like?" 

He hesitated, then shrugged. "I don’t remember. It’s been too long." His voice was distant, as if the memory was buried so deep it barely surfaced anymore.

You looked away, letting the city sounds fill your mind—the hum of passing cars, the splashing of tires through puddles. It felt good to be walking in the rain, with someone next to you. "Give me your hand," Jungwoo said suddenly, stopping in his tracks.

You blinked at him, confused. "Why?"

He didn’t answer, just extended his hand. 

Without really thinking, you placed yours in his, feeling the coolness of his skin as he intertwined your fingers.

"I want to show you something," he said, and before you could ask what, the umbrella lowered, and the world around you shifted.

Suddenly, you weren’t on the street anymore. You were standing atop the Willis Tower, the entire city of Chicago spread out beneath you like a vast, twinkling map. The air was sharper, cooler, and you could see everything—lightning streaking from cloud to ground, the sprawling traffic below, the shimmering lights of buildings.

Normally, the height and the storm would terrify you, but with Jungwoo’s hand gripping yours, you felt safe.

"What are we doing up here?" you ask, your voice barely rising above the howling wind as you take in the breathtaking view of a city you’ve grown to love.

"I thought you’d like it," he replied, his voice calm, as if standing on top of the world in the middle of a storm was nothing out of the ordinary.

By now, you're drenched in a mixture of rain and sweat, but you can't bring yourself to care. He was right. You loved being so high up and feeling like you were on top of the world. You got to see how small and miniature life really was. All of your worries seemed to wash away with the rain, and for a moment, you almost forgot that you weren't going to be alive for much longer. 

You turned to him, your gaze lingering. His dark hair clung to his forehead, damp from the rain, and his soft brown eyes watched you intently. For the first time, you allowed yourself to really look at him, to take in how effortlessly beautiful he was. You couldn’t help but think it.

Jungwoo smirked, as if he’d heard your thoughts

you laughed lightly, trying to shake off the heat creeping up your cheeks. "Did you bring me up here to kill me?" you joked, the words slipping out as a way to distract yourself. "Am I your next sacrifice?"

He chuckled, a low sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Why would I kill you if you’re dying soon anyway? Seems like a waste of effort, don’t you think?"

You stepped closer to him, your hand still wrapped in his. "Then what do you want with me?"

His gaze met yours, steady and serious. "I want to know why I’m so drawn to you," he said, his voice soft but intense. "I want to understand how you, of all people, have managed to make my vampire heart beat."

His words sent a shock through you, and for a moment, you couldn’t look away from his eyes. You placed both hands over his chest, searching for a pulse you knew wouldn’t be there. But something about the moment felt alive, as if there was a connection between you both that went beyond anything you could explain.

"You want to know what it feels like?" Jungwoo’s voice was low, almost a whisper, as he placed his hands over yours.

You nodded, your breath catching. "Yes."

In a blink, the world tilted beneath you. Jungwoo turned and threw you off the building. The sudden rush of air tore the breath from your lungs, the cold wind whipping around you like a thousand icy fingers. You felt the ground drop away, and the city blurred into streaks of light and shadow.

This is it, you thought, panic surging through you. This is how I die.

No scream escaped your lips; it felt like your voice had been stolen away. The noise of the city faded into a deafening roar, the only sound was the rush of wind. Your heart raced, pounding against your ribs like it wanted to break free. You closed your eyes, waiting for impact, for the ground to claim you.

But instead of crashing down, you opened your eyes to find yourself back in your living room, standing in your familiar space. The beige sofa, the gray rug, the faint scent of coffee—it all felt surreal. Everything was just as you left it, as if the fall had never happened.

Gasping, you clutched your chest, heart racing, the weight of adrenaline flooding your system. The ground felt extremely light under, like you might slip through the floorboards and disappear completely.

"That’s what it feels like," Jungwoo’s calm voice came from behind you.

You spun around to face him, disbelief flooding your senses. "You... you tried to kill me!" The words tumbled out, shaky and incredulous.

He smiled faintly, his eyes flashing crimson for a moment, a powerful shimmer that filled the room with an otherworldly glow. You felt a strange warmth wash over you, as if he were calming your frantic heartbeat. The rush of adrenaline ebbed away, and you found yourself breathing easier, steadier.

"I wasn’t going to let you die," he insisted, his tone steady and soothing. You believe him. You don’t know what it is about him that makes you trust him so completely, but a deep-seated conviction tells you he can protect you from anything, big or small.

It’s your day off. 

The sunday breeze sneaks in through your window and brushes past the skin of your forearm. It’s a chilly October day, one of your favorites. You could see the orange trees sway and the squirrels hurrying to gather nuts all from your window but you were too lost in thought to notice. 

The jazz playing in the background had quickly become white noise and you found yourself thinking about a particular vampire with a unique set of brown eyes. 

“You wanted to see me?” Jungwoo’s voice draws you out of your day dreams. You would've thought you were hallucinating had you not felt him standing beside you. 

“You can hear my thoughts.” You’re certain this time. 

Jungwoo nods, his expression thoughtful. “I guess I can.” He gently guides you away from the stove, where you’d almost forgotten about the simmering pot, the smell of spices hanging thick in the air. “You’re the only person I can do that with.”

“Are you going to show up everytime I think of you?” You ask and he nods again. 

“I’ll show up whenever you need me.” 

Those six words had butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach. You’d never really had anyone you could rely on. Your adoptive parents were amazing but that was very short lived and eventually you’d go back to being alone again but with Jungwoo you didn’t have to worry about losing him. 

“Are you hungry?” You shake your head slightly to bring you out of your trance. Jungwoo remained quiet as you poured your stew into two separate bowls and sat them on the table. 

You gestured for him to sit with you and he obeyed but he dared not touch food in front of him despite the obvious fact that you had placed it there for him to eat. “You can’t eat human food?” You ask, “I thought you’d be able to since you’re half human.” 

“I can.” Jungwoo answers, pulling his eyes away from the bowl of chicken stew. “I’m just cautious about eating certain foods.” 

“Chicken?” 

“Garlic.” He answers precisely. 

You chuckle lightly, “I hate garlic. I’ve hated it since I was younger and the other orphans would make fun of me for it. They’d wave it around me and call me a vampire until I developed a fear of it.” You clear your throat when you’ve realized how much you’d been talking. “So yeah, it’s safe to eat.” 

Jungwoo nods and sucks in his bottom lip to bite back a laugh. “It’s not funny.” You say, despite the fact that you were holding back a laugh yourself. “Just eat. I feel bad eating in front of you.” 

He does as you say, bringing the spoon up to his lips to take the tiniest taste of your homemade stew. You watched him with bated breath, and searched for any sign of disapproval but there was none. After a moment, Jungwoo leaned in to taste another spoon full and his facial expression softened. 

“This is amazing.” He says, already going in for more. 

“I told you,”  You beamed with pride, watching him with a mix of amusement and adoration. 

Your apartment falls silent again, and all you can hear between you is the clinking of spoons and the jazz that still plays lowly in the background. You snuck a few quick glances at Jungwoo before you blurted out, “How long have you been wanting to die?” 

Jungwoo doesn’t seem the slightest bit taken back by the sudden question and you assume it’s because he already knew what you were thinking. “For the last 100 years or so.” He answers, “My last attempt was jumping off of an airplane.”

“That was you?” You exclaim with widened eyes. No wonder they never found a body. 

Jungwoo nods, “I’ve tried a lot of things, feeding myself to hungry lions, walking into a church and even eating garlic. Nothing works.” he explains, remembering how itchy his tongue was after digesting the garlic cloves. 

“But your dad…” You hesitate, but he anticipates your unfinished thought.

“I was young when it happened,” he continues. “All I know is that he begged my mom to stab him just moments before she died.”

 “How come he needed your mom to kill him?” You ponder aloud, “Sorry if I’m pushing too much I’m just new to this vampire stuff.” 

“I never understood that either but when you’re the youngest in the family there’s a lot of things you don’t understand.”

The conversation goes dead when you make the conscious decision not to pester him about his family history.                  

After you two finished your meal, you stood up to collect the dishes only for Jungwoo to hold his hand over yours. “Allow me.” He says, swiftly moving to gather the dishes for you. With no other choice, you sit back and allow him to carry your dirty plates to your sink.                         

“You’re late.” Yeri mutters, tirelessly when you step into the Cafe. 

You counted up to two hundred and thirteen times she had spoken those exact two words all in different tones. By the two hundred and fourteenth time, you had given up counting. That was the nature of you and Yeri’s relationship. She liked to get on to you for absolutely nothing and you took it because you were afraid of how she or anyone else would view you. 

“I'm twenty minutes early.” You retorted. You didn’t care how people viewed you anymore. You were going to die anyway. 

Yeri shot you a dirty look but she didn’t say anything else, and you strolled into the back to put your things up and begin your shift. 

The day went on calmly if you excluded the snide comments your co-worker shot your way, or the handful of times she interrupted your conversation with a customer to inform them that you were careless with your job and to be wary of their drinks. 

You never understood why she disliked you so much but never spent too much time thinking about it either. You figured she’d come around over time but two years had passed since you first began working there and things only got worse over time. 

“Have a great day.” You flashed a warm smile at the customer. The man nodded and quietly made his way out of the store with the coffee in his hand while you turned to clean the area around you. The cafe had become empty and the customers that’d usually come in everyday were slowly heading out, despite the fact that the cafe would remain open for another three hours. 

You let out a resigned sigh and pushed your hair back, accidentally elbowing Yeri in the process. “Ow.” She yelped dramatically. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Your apologies fall on deaf ears and suddenly you’re having a large cup of room temperature coffee thrown in your face. When you open your eyes you’re met with a smiley Yeri, holding an empty coffee mug in her hand. 

You’re going to die anyway. You think to yourself before you reach for a fistful of her hair and shove her head in the murky dish water. 

“Why don’t you just quit?” Jungwoo asked, handing you a wet cloth to clean the coffee splatters off your shirt. You turned your back to him, lifting your shirt over your head and slipping into a fresh set of clothes. You trusted Jungwoo not to look, but you didn't make the effort to check.

“It costs to live,” you replied simply, wiping at the remnants of coffee.

“But you’re going to die soon,” he countered, his tone laced with concern.

“Thanks for reminding me,” you shot back, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “Unfortunately, it costs to die too. And I still need a place to stay while I’m alive. Unless…” You turned, a mischievous glint in your eyes, “You want to eat my landlord?”

“I have a better idea.” Jungwoo finally opened his eyes, ensuring you were fully clothed before meeting your gaze. “Why don’t you just come stay with me?”

The suggestion lingered in the air, and you couldn’t help but consider it. You and Jungwoo had already been spending so much time together; moving in only seemed logical given your circumstances. Plus, how could you say no to the opportunity to retire early?

“I can’t do that,” you replied, though the thought tugged at you.

“Why not?” he pressed. 

“You’re a vampire and I’m a human. Us living together is like a recipe for disaster.” You sighed, feeling the weight of your own words. “I have a few months left. I can just stick this out.” Deep down you knew that you’d regret declining his offers sooner or later.

It turned out to be sooner.

As you tuned out the sounds of the busy café, focusing instead on cleaning your area, your mind was plagued with thoughts of everything you wanted to accomplish before your time ran out. The conversation with Jungwoo echoed in your mind. 

Reality jolted you awake when Yeri, your co-worker, deliberately pushed her way past you, causing you to knock over half-filled coffee mugs. 

Assuming it was just an accident, you sighed and bent down to clean up the mess. But as you glanced up at Yeri, you felt a sharp sting in your palm. You had cut yourself on a shard of glass.

“You’re lucky I didn’t report you to HR,” she sneered, crossing her arms.

“Are you forgetting you’re the one who threw coffee in my face?” you shot back, holding the broken mugs in your hands.

“You elbowed me first!” she yelled.

You sighed again, shoulders slumping in defeat. There was no point in defending yourself to someone who’d never listen. “Can we just keep this peaceful, please? We both have to make a living, and there’s no point in making it hard on one another.”

“Yes, of course. Wouldn’t want to get in the way of your money,” she retorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

You breathed deeply, forcing a calm, “Thank you.” Just as you began to feel a sense of relief, you noticed liquids pooling around your white shoes. Yeri smirked as she poured black coffee all over the floor.

“Better get to work then,” she snided, a malicious glint in her eyes.

There was no more fight left in you. Each time you closed your eyes, you envisioned the life you could have—one of peace and quiet, where you didn’t have to work yourself to death only to be ridiculed for small mistakes. “I’m done,” you muttered loud enough for her to hear. “I quit.”

As expected, she gawked and pestered you with more insults, but it all fell on deaf ears as you gathered your things and made your way to the door. 

You pulled it open, stepping outside without really knowing what you were going to do next. But as the door swung shut behind you, you froze. Jungwoo was standing just outside, his presence warm and reassuring. It was at that exact moment that you were reminded of his words, “I’ll show up whenever you need me.” 

“So, what now?” you asked.

“Give me your hand,” he said, extending his palm toward you.

Without hesitation, you placed your hand over his. It felt like a perfect fit, like two puzzle pieces coming together. 

In the blink of an eye, the world around you shifted, and suddenly, you found yourself in Jungwoo’s castle. 

He kept his hand firmly around yours as you slowly took in your surroundings. The air was cool, and a dim light cast shadows across the vast room. A vintage glass chandelier filled with flickering candles hung from the high ceiling, illuminating the dark, gothic décor.

“You stay here alone?” you asked, still observing the living room’s grandeur.

Jungwoo smiled softly. “I used to.” He tugged on your hand. “Let me show you around.”

You followed closely behind, your curiosity piqued. The hallway was lined with painted portraits, and you caught a glimpse of one that looked strikingly like Jungwoo, though you didn’t have time to dwell on it as he led you down a long corridor. “This will be your room,” he announced, gesturing toward a beautifully ornate door.

As it swung open, you gasped. The room was everything you had ever dreamt of: red velvet sheets on a grand bed, large double glass doors that opened to a balcony, and an exquisite oil painting hanging on the wall. Despite the awe that enveloped you, the first words out of your mouth were, “This is a great place to die.”

You laughed, but Jungwoo’s expression shifted, the humor lost on him. “Would you like a tour?” he asked, pulling you out of the room by your conjoined hands.

“This castle is too big for a tour,” you mused aloud. “Why don’t you just tell me what rooms not to go in?”

“Every room is free for use,” he replied.

“Really?” you exclaimed, wide-eyed. “I thought you’d have a room dedicated to your human sacrifices.”

This time, Jungwoo chuckled lightly, tightening his grasp around your hand as he guided you further. You soon found yourselves in front of two grand double doors. “Do you like books?” he asked.

“I used to. When I was younger, I read a lot, but I’ve been so busy lately, and I haven’t had time to read. But now that I don’t have a job, I guess I should—” Jungwoo stopped you mid-rant as the doors swung open, revealing the biggest library you had ever seen.

“Wow,” you breathed, eyes widening as you gazed at the endless rows of books. Your feet moved of their own accord, leading you down the aisles as you slid your fingers over the the books.

You paused in front of one that had a dagger painted along the spine. Curiosity piqued, you pulled your hand away from Jungwoo to crack the book open. But to your surprise, every page was completely empty. You flipped through the pages, bewildered. “How come this book is blank?” you asked, turning to Jungwoo.

He looks over your shoulder as you skim the pages and his eyebrows furrowed together. He wonders why you can’t see what's written on the paper. However he doesn’t question you, since he doesn’t want to scare you. 

You lay in your new room, the darkness outside pierced only by the full moon and a canopy of twinkling stars. Instead of exploring the balcony, you found yourself limp on the luxurious velvet sheets, staring up at the ceiling, thoughts swirling like the night sky above. The sounds of the forest—the crows calling, crickets chirping, and the rustling of unseen creatures—filled the silence, making it harder to find sleep. How did he manage to stay here all alone?

“Got used to it,” Jungwoo’s voice broke through your reverie, and you turned your head to see his silhouette framed by the balcony doors.

“Can you hear all of my thoughts?” you asked, pushing yourself up against the headboard, despite the heaviness in your eyelids.

“Only the ones about me.” He stepped away from the glass doors, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he perched on the edge of your bed. “You think about me a lot.”

“I don’t,” you muttered, a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck.

“Well, could you try not to think about me tonight? I’m kind of busy,” he replied, his tone teasing.

“You’re not going to bed?” you chirped, realization dawning. He simply looked at you, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Right, I forgot.” You half-nodded and slid back into the bed, pulling the covers up. “Sorry I won’t bother you.” With that, he vanished, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

What could he be doing? You pondered, shaking your head fiercely. No, focus. I’m not supposed to think about him.

“Just go to sleep,” you murmured to yourself. A shiver of dread crept in. 

What if he had plans on killing me?

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” Jungwoo sighed, his voice suddenly close, making you jump. “I’m guessing you can’t sleep.”

“I’m just used to sleeping in my own bed,” you replied defensively.

“Do you want to go home?” He moved to sit at the foot of your bed, the moonlight casting a silver glow on his features. You shook your head.

“This is my home now. Or for the next few months, at least.” You pressed your lips into a thin line, resolve wavering. “I’ll get used to it… eventually.”

“Then how about a bedtime story?” Jungwoo suggested.

“You’re going to read to me?” you asked, incredulous.

“Sure, if it’ll help you sleep.” You settled back into the bed, allowing the satin sheets to cradle you.

“Once upon a time…” Jungwoo began softly, his voice smooth and steady, like the kind of lullaby that tugs your eyes closed. He read on, his words folding around you in a comforting rhythm, making the weight on your mind feel lighter with each passing second.

Before long, your breathing slowed, and your eyelids drooped, giving way to sleep. Jungwoo could feel the exact moment you drifted off—when your thoughts quieted and your body melted into the mattress. A small smile tugged at his lips. He closed the book, setting it aside quietly on the nightstand.

He stayed there for a moment, just watching you, a strange sense of calm settling over him. You looked so peaceful like this, and for a second, he let himself relax too.

Leaning in, he reached to tuck the blanket over your shoulders—but then he noticed your hand. His expression shifted, and without thinking, he ran his thumb gently over the wound.

Something stirred under his touch—a warmth that spread through his fingertips. He watched, fascinated, as the cut shimmered and slowly disappeared, leaving smooth skin behind, as if it had never been there.

Jungwoo exhaled through his nose, relief softening the lines of his face. For a moment, he just stood there, tracing your features with his gaze like he wanted to memorize them. Then, with a quiet care, he pulled the blanket tighter around you, making sure you were warm.

The morning light slipped through the curtains, waking you slowly. You stretched, blinking away the last traces of sleep, and it took a second to remember where you were. Your usual Chicago apartment was gone, replaced by the soft elegance of a Victorian-style bedroom. 

You sat up, rubbing your eyes as the events of yesterday came rushing back—Jungwoo, the café, the beautiful castle, the library, a bedtime story. It felt surreal, like you’d fallen into some sort of dream. 

The view outside the balcony doors pulled you in. You walked over, opening them to step outside, and the sight that greeted you made you pause. The sun was rising over a vast forest, casting everything in a soft, golden light. It was so peaceful—nothing like the busy Chicago skyline you were used to. The air was cool and crisp, and the birds had replaced the crows from last night, filling the air with morning songs.

“You’re awake early,” Jungwoo’s voice came from behind you.

You turned, surprised to see him standing at the doorway. “Yeah,” you replied, your voice still raspy from sleep.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked, joining you at the railing. He looked out at the forest, but you found yourself watching him instead.

“Pretty well, actually,” you said with a small smile, then glanced back at the sunrise. After a moment, curiosity got the better of you. “Doesn’t the sun bother you?”

He chuckled softly. “No. The sun doesn’t hurt half-bloods.”

“Oh,” you said, feeling a little silly for asking. You leaned against the railing, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence. You wondered if he could hear your thoughts again, but if he could, he didn’t let on.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, breaking the quiet.

You weren’t thinking about breakfast before but since he’d mentioned it you felt your stomach rumble, answering the question for both of you. 

 Jungwoo led you to the castle's grand dining room, where he placed a steak in front of you. You stared down at the blood filled meat, and swallowed hard. 

“Are you okay ?” 

You glance up to see that he’s already nearly finished his food and you shake your head. “No, just not as hungry as I thought I was.” You lie and your stomach growls again as if to testify. “I might just go downtown later on and eat lunch.” 

“Is there something wrong with the steak?” 

You hesitated. “I’m just not used to eating it for breakfast.”

“I should’ve asked what you wanted,” he said, standing up. He wiped his mouth and walked toward you, holding out his hand.

“Where are you going?” you asked, but took his hand anyway.

“The kitchen.” He responds when you both appear in undoubtedly the biggest kitchen you’ve ever seen. You took a moment to take it all in, marveling at how the grandeur of the castle extended even to the kitchen. It was almost surreal. 

“What do you want for breakfast?” Jungwoo asks.

It takes no time for you to utter, “pancakes.” and within the same second, flour, eggs, milk and sugar are all spread out amongst the counter and ready for you to use. With ease he shifted towards the counter and began cracking the eggs on the bowl. 

He seemed a lot more skilled in the kitchen than you were so you opted to just slide on the counter and watch him cook, “So,” you began, trying to break the silence, “where does a vampire learn how to cook?”

“I have to eat, don't I?” He asks, not caring to look at you. 

“Right.” You nod awkwardly. “Well what else can you make?” 

“What other foods do you like?” 

“Pasta,” You don’t have to think about it, it’s been your favorite food since you were a kid. 

“Then I’ll make it for you one day.” You smile to yourself at the small sentiment. One day, those two words made you feel like you had all the time in the world. 

As he poured the batter onto the pan, the sizzling sound filled the air, blending with the quiet hum of the forest outside the tall windows.

“Careful, or you’ll burn them,” you teased. 

He shot you a mock-serious look. “I don’t burn pancakes.”

“Really?” you challenged. “We’ll see about that.”

For a moment, there was just the smell of pancakes and the soft clatter of utensils, but it wasn’t awkward. It felt easy. Comfortable. 

Jungwoo grabbed the plates once the pancakes were done and handed one to you. “See? No burns,” he said with a proud grin.

You roll your eyes and cut into the pancake. At first glance it looks amazing, but biting into it tastes even better. You let out a satisfied groan “These are amazing.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nod, “These are the best pancakes I've ever had. I could eat them everyday.” 

Jungwoo had left shortly after you finished breakfast together. He only explained that he had something important to do but you had a faint feeling that you knew what he was up to. Although the thought should’ve scared you, it didn’t. You trusted that he was a good being and that he wouldn’t do anything he didn’t have to do. 

In his absence you occupied yourself by exploring that large castle. You wandered down the long hallways and took your time admiring each oil painted portrait, especially one in particular that looked like a younger version of Jungwoo ,his parents and another young boy. You assumed it was the brother he spoke about although they looked nothing alike. 

You continued walking down the hallway, the wooden floorboards creaking underfoot. Each step felt like you were walking through a living piece of history, and the air carried a faint scent of aged wood and something floral, like dried lavender.

As you turned a corner, you spotted a door at the end of the hallway. It stood slightly ajar. Although Jungwoo had already mentioned that every room was free for you to use, this one felt strangely off limits. Yet you found yourself pulled to this specific room, and before you knew it you were gradually stepping towards the cracked door.  

Your breath is caught in your throat when you see a tall, pale figure rummaging through the room. You take a step back and the smallest noise makes the man look up in your direction, his piercing gray eyes almost looking right through you. “Juliette?” He calls. 

You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn't breathe, as he took a step closer. His gaze never left you, as if searching for something impossible. “You’re supposed to be dead,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “How is this possible?”

You didn’t know how to respond—questions raced through your mind, but none made it past your lips. Your body felt frozen, even when he raised a hand, the back of his fingers faintly brushing against your cheek. His skin was ice-cold, a sharp contrast to the warmth of your own.

“Don’t touch her.”

Jungwoo’s voice cut through the room like a blade, pulling you out of your trance. The man’s hand fell away immediately as he turned to face Jungwoo. You watched the exchange, the pieces finally falling into place—this was Jungwoo’s brother. The resemblance wasn’t obvious, but the face matched the boy from the portrait.

“What are you doing here, Doyoung?” Jungwoo’s tone was hard as he stepped in front of you, shielding you from his brother’s gaze.

“I just want the dagger,” Doyoung said, his voice calm but laced with something darker. The air in the room seemed to thicken with the tension between them, making it harder to breathe.

“What do you want with it?” Jungwoo demanded, his body tense, every muscle coiled.

“To make sure it’s safe. You don’t understand the kind of power it holds.” Doyoung’s eyes flickered to you for a brief second before settling back on Jungwoo.

Your mind raced back to the library—the empty book, the strange feeling that something was missing. Could this dagger be connected to that? And why had Doyoung called you Juliette? The questions swirled, but the room seemed to grow hotter with each passing moment, as if the tension between the brothers was igniting something unseen.

“It’s safe with me,” Jungwoo countered, but the way Doyoung narrowed his eyes made it clear he didn’t believe that for a second.

The air in the room felt stifling now, the weight of whatever was between them pressing down on you. The edges of your vision blurred, the voices of the brothers fading into a distant hum. You reached out, instinctively searching for Jungwoo’s hand, but before you could grasp it, everything went dark.

When you woke, the familiar comfort of your bed surrounded you, but your mind was anything but settled. The events leading up to this moment felt like a blur, and for a second, you wondered if it had all been some strange dream. But then you saw him—Jungwoo, standing silently beside your bed, watching you with that same quiet intensity.

You sat up slowly, your head still swimming with questions. Should you ask him about it? You debated for a moment, but the look on Jungwoo’s face told you he was already one step ahead of you.

“That’s...” you began, struggling to find the words.

“My brother,” Jungwoo finished for you, his voice calm, though there was a faint edge of tension underneath. You had already pieced that together in the moments before everything had gone dark, but hearing him say it aloud made it feel more real, more complicated.

Your thoughts shifted again, this time to the other name Doyoung had mentioned—Juliette. That name carried weight, a mystery that clung to your mind, refusing to let go.

“What about Juliette?” you asked, your voice softer now, as if saying her name aloud might stir something dangerous.

Jungwoo’s expression changed, just for a moment, before he answered. “She’s... someone from the past,” he said, his tone final, as if that was all there was to it. But his answer didn’t satisfy the nagging curiosity burning in the back of your mind. He hadn’t really answered the question at all, but you decided not to push him further.

The room fell quiet again, and you noticed the way Jungwoo’s gaze lingered on you, concern still written plainly across his face.

“You need to rest,” he said gently. “I don’t want you wearing yourself out again.”

“I’m fine,” you tried to insist, but even you didn’t fully believe the words. Your body still felt weak, and the faint remnants of dizziness hadn’t completely faded.

Jungwoo gave you a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Humor me,” he said softly before stepping away from the bed.

You watched him go, the quiet settling around you like a heavy blanket. The events of the day replayed in your mind over and over, each piece of the puzzle more confusing than the last. Despite your exhaustion, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something bigger was unfolding around you, something you were only beginning to understand.

As the night settled in, a deep sense of unease crept up your spine. The darkness felt different, more oppressive than usual, and the shadows in the corners of the room seemed to stretch further than they should. You couldn’t explain why, but fear had taken hold, and it wasn’t something you could shake on your own.

“Jungwoo,” you called softly, your voice just loud enough to break through the silence. A few moments later, he appeared at the door, his presence bringing with it a quiet sense of reassurance.

“Can you... stay with me?” you asked, feeling the weight of vulnerability in your words. “Just for a little while. I don’t wanna be alone.” 

Jungwoo didn’t hesitate. He crossed the room and climbed into the bed beside you, his presence instantly calming. You hadn’t even realized how tense you’d been until he was there, the weight of fear slowly lifting.

As Jungwoo settled beside you, the tension of the day began to dissolve. You moved closer, resting your head on his chest. His body was cold, but lying there, you felt warm, secure in his presence.

You weren’t listening for a heartbeat—you already knew there wouldn’t be one. In fact, that was why you found comfort in laying on his chest. The stillness, the absence of a heartbeat, made you feel like time didn’t exist for him. For a moment, the weight of everything—the past, the future, your fears—just slipped away, and all that mattered was the quiet, frozen moment you shared.

“I’m happy that I met you before I died. It feels a lot less lonely,” you whispered, almost afraid of how easily the words left your lips, but they were the truth.

Jungwoo’s chest rose slightly as he took a breath, then he spoke, his voice soft but firm. “I’m not going to let you die.”

You wanted to believe him. More than anything, you wished those words could erase the gnawing fear that clung to you. But deep down, you knew better than to hold onto false hope. Even so, lying here with him, you felt a sense of peace. It didn’t matter if his words couldn’t change the inevitable. What mattered was this moment, wrapped in his arms, where everything felt like it could stop for just a little while.

Yet, even as you began to drift into sleep, one name continued to linger in the back of your mind, refusing to let go—Juliette. The mystery of who she was haunted you, weaving through your thoughts, until finally, exhaustion pulled you under. But even then, the name wouldn’t leave you, hovering just out of reach, like a shadow in the distance.

And still, despite the questions, despite the uncertainty, you found comfort in the silence of Jungwoo’s chest and the steady feeling of his arms around you.  

You stirred awake to the gentle warmth of the morning sun, and as your eyes fluttered open, you realized Jungwoo was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you. His expression was soft, and the corners of his lips lifted into a fond smile as your gaze met his.

"Good morning," you murmured, still heavy with sleep.

"Good morning," he echoed, his voice low and gentle. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face before his hand cupped your cheek. The warmth of his touch lingered, and you couldn’t help but smile at the tenderness in his gesture. Instinctively, you rested your hand over his, holding it there for just a moment longer.

You blinked up at him, your thoughts swimming in the quietness of the moment. You couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his head as he continued to look at you with such intensity.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime of silence, he spoke. “I want to show you something.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he leaned down, scooping you effortlessly into his arms. You let out a surprised laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you from the bed

Jungwoo carried you effortlessly into the ballroom, setting you gently in his lap as he sat at the piano. His fingers grazed the keys, and soon the room was filled with the beautiful, haunting notes of Beethoven's "Pathetique" second movement. The music was soft but powerful, and you leaned your head against his chest, listening to each note as it seemed to pour straight from him.

There was no heartbeat, but you could feel the depth of his presence, the calm strength in his body as he played. It was intimate in a way you weren’t used to, but you found yourself sinking into the moment, letting the music wash over you. You glanced up at him, his expression focused, thoughtful—somewhere far away.

Then, almost as if he felt your gaze, Jungwoo looked down at you, his eyes soft and warm. “Dance with me,” he said, his voice low, full of something you couldn’t quite read.

Before you could respond, he stood, pulling you to your feet. The piano keys continued to play on their own, filling the room with a beautiful, eerie melody. His hand found yours, his other resting lightly on your waist as he guided you into a slow dance. There was something effortless in the way he moved, almost as if he’d done this a thousand times before.

As the two of you glided across the floor, something shifted in the air between you. His gaze lingered a little longer, his touch felt more deliberate. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment meant more to him than just a dance. He led you into a graceful dip, and for a heartbeat, his lips hovered close to yours. The world seemed to pause.

In that instant, a memory flickered in his mind—dancing like this with Juliette. The feeling of almost kissing her in the same dip. But instead of letting his lips meet yours, he pressed them gently to your forehead, the warmth of his breath lingering there.

When he pulled you back up, he held you steady, his hands lingering on your waist. His eyes stayed on yours, soft but searching, like he was trying to find something in you. And for a brief moment, you felt like he’d found it. But whatever it was, he didn’t say. 

Neither of you said a word. The music continued, but the moment was no longer about the song. It was about the quiet understanding, the unspoken bond that grew between you—a connection neither of you were quite ready to define, but one that was impossible to ignore.

You stood there in the quiet, your body still tingling from the dance, his hands lingering just a moment longer than necessary on your waist. You felt breathless, but not because of the movement—it was him. The way he looked at you, the way his touch felt like it carried more meaning than he’d ever admit aloud. You searched his face for some hint of what was running through his mind, but he kept whatever he was thinking just out of reach.

The piano’s melody softened to a close, and the silence that followed was heavy with unspoken things. You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close he still was, the way his eyes hadn’t left yours, like he was waiting for you to say something, to break the spell.

But you didn’t. Instead, you smiled—a small, quiet thing—your heart fluttering despite knowing he couldn’t feel it. “That was beautiful,” you whispered, your voice softer than you intended.

“So are you,” Jungwoo replied, almost without thinking. His voice was equally soft, a confession more than a compliment.

You felt the warmth rise to your cheeks, unsure how to respond. Your hand still rested in his, and you gave it a small, absentminded squeeze, not daring to break the moment, not wanting to.

“Do you—” you started to ask, but his hand moved from your waist to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing lightly along your cheek. Your words faded into the quiet between you. He leaned forward slightly, his breath cold on your skin, so close it sent a shiver down your spine. But just as you thought he might kiss you, he stopped. His forehead rested against yours, the soft weight of his touch making your pulse race.

“I wish I could stay like this with you,” he murmured, the words almost too soft to hear. “But I have things I need to do.”

The air between you shifted, a reminder that no matter how close you felt in this moment, there was still something he wasn’t telling you—something that pulled him away.

You gave a small nod, not trusting yourself to speak. He lingered a moment longer, as if debating whether to stay or go, and then, with one last glance, he released you, stepping back. The warmth of his hand slipped away, leaving the air cooler in his absence.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said, his tone as steady as ever, though there was a hint of something else—regret, maybe. “Get some rest.”

You didn’t want to, but you nodded again. “Okay,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Jungwoo gave you a faint smile, and then he turned, heading for the door. You watched him go, feeling the weight of his absence as soon as he disappeared from the room.

Once he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Your eyes drifted to the piano, the room suddenly feeling much bigger, much quieter. You weren’t sure how long you stood there, but eventually, you shook yourself from the daze, walking back to your room.

Just as you let out a soft sigh, your phone rings. You hesitate for a moment, almost not wanting to break the quietness Jungwoo left behind, but then you see Hendery’s name flash on the screen.

With a deep breath, you answer.

“Hey,” you greet, trying to sound normal.

“Hey, did you quit the café?” Hendery’s voice sounds slightly surprised. “Yeri told me.”

You swallow, throwing yourself on the bed. “Yeah, I did.”

There’s a pause on the other end, and you can almost hear him thinking. “So, you must have a lot of free time now,” he says, his voice careful.

“Something like that.” 

“What do you think about a movie… Tonight?” He blurts suddenly, like he’s been holding it in since the start of the call. 

Your fingers tighten around the phone. A movie sounds so normal. But as Hendery talks, your thoughts drift back to the ballroom. To Jungwoo. The way he kissed your forehead, the way his presence seemed to fill every corner of the castle. You shook your head, remembering that he could hear your every thought about him. 

“Yeah,” you say. “That sounds good.”

Hendery’s voice brightens on the other end, making plans, but your mind is only half there. You try to focus, to push thoughts of Jungwoo aside. Yet, even as you agree to go to the movie, you can’t stop wondering—what if your feelings for Jungwoo are real? And what if it’s already too late to ignore them?

After ending the call, you let out a slow breath and drop the phone onto the bed beside you. Staring up at the ceiling, a wave of realization washes over you—you haven’t left the castle since you arrived. Not once. Every moment has been spent either with Jungwoo or lost in the maze of the castle’s endless rooms. And now, you’ve agreed to meet Hendery, but how would you even get there?

Your first thought is to try the door. It’s the most logical step, though the idea of it seems ridiculous. The castle feels like its own world, detached from everything you knew before. Could the door even lead to anything beyond its dark halls?

You get up, pulling the door open with a slow creak, expecting to see the forest, the heavy iron gates, something—anything that resembles the outside. But what you find is far from what you expect.

It’s your apartment.

Your breath catches as you stand frozen, taking in the sight of your living room—the worn-out couch, your coat draped over the back, the coffee table still cluttered with old mugs and books. The familiar scent of home fills the air, and the city skyline looms in the distance, exactly as you left it.

It’s impossible, yet there it is. The castle door has opened into your apartment, like a doorway between worlds.

You decide not to think too much about it, as you step into your apartment and begin getting ready for your date. 

You and Hendery step into the dimly lit theater, the smell of buttered popcorn filling the air as you both settle into your seats. The lights dim further, and the hum of pre-show chatter fades, replaced by the soft flicker of the screen. Hendery leans closer, offering a small smile. "So, what’ve you been up to since quitting the café?" 

You hesitate, your mind flashing to the castle and Jungwoo. "Not much, honestly. Just… settling into some new things." You give a half-hearted smile, trying not to reveal too much. Hendery raises an eyebrow but doesn't press further.

"Well, at least you’ve got some free time now," he says, turning his attention back to the screen. "Maybe we can hang out more, you know?"

You nod, not really committing. The previews begin, and you shift in your seat, trying to focus on anything but the thoughts that keep tugging at the back of your mind.

As the movie starts, a familiar plot unfolds—a brooding vampire falls in love with a mortal girl. You roll your eyes at first, but as the scenes play out, you can’t help but think of Jungwoo. His gaze, his touch, the way he carries himself. You bite your lip, trying to push the thoughts away, but they keep circling back.

Suddenly, a tap on your shoulder snaps you out of it. You turn, expecting Hendery or even Jungwoo, but instead, Doyoung’s sharp, familiar eyes meet yours. Your breath catches, panic swelling in your chest. Before you can scream or really fully register his presence, the theater around you vanishes.

In an instant, you're outside, somewhere in the cold, darkened alleyway behind the theater. Doyoung’s grip on your arm tightens as he hisses, “Stay away from him.”

“What—why?” you demand, shaking off his hand. Your heart pounds, but before you can press further, a familiar presence shifts the air around you.

Jungwoo appears.

Doyoung is gone. The alley feels smaller, darker. Jungwoo’s eyes meet yours, unreadable, but there’s a tension simmering beneath his calm demeanor. You stand there, waiting for him to speak, waiting for an explanation—but all you can think about is the way his presence always changes everything.

“Are you okay?” Jungwoo asked, his brow furrowed in concern as he stepped closer.

You shook your head, frustration bubbling up inside you. “No, I’m not okay! What just happened? What’s going on between you and Doyoung?” Your voice rose with each question. “And who is Juliette?”

At the mention of her name, Jungwoo’s expression shifted. There was a flicker of something—pain, nostalgia, and a hint of fear—in his eyes. It was clear that Juliette was more than just a name from his past.

Before he could respond, everything around you blurred. The world twisted and folded, and suddenly, you found yourself in an unfamiliar room. The air was heavy with an old familiarity, and your gaze was drawn to framed black-and-white photographs adorning the walls.

Your heart raced as you caught sight of one particular picture. The girl in it looked exactly like you—same features, same hair, same haunting eyes. You stepped closer, your breath hitching in your throat.

“Is this me?” you whispered, barely able to process the revelation.

Jungwoo hesitates, but then he speaks, his voice heavy with an old sadness. “This is Juliette.”

The truth hits you like a wave. “I’m Juliette,” you say, the realization sinking in.

You turn to face him, eyes wide with disbelief. "Jungwoo, this isn't making any sense."

His eyes, though calm, are filled with a pain you hadn’t noticed before. "Juliette was someone I loved," he finally admits. "My first love."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy and bitter.

"Doyoung never approved of us," Jungwoo continues, his tone darkening. "She was human, and I... I was never meant to be with her. He went out of his way to stop us. He killed her to put an end to it... to us."

Your heart drops at his words, the weight of what he’s saying crashing down on you. It suddenly makes sense—why the brothers don’t speak, why there’s so much tension between them. But it still doesn’t explain why Doyoung warned you about Hendery.

You push the thought to the back of your mind for now. All you can focus on is Jungwoo—the way he looks at you, the way your heart aches for him in a way that feels like more than just attraction. It feels like destiny.

Jungwoo steps closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m not going to lose you again,” he whispers, his voice breaking just slightly as he cups your cheek, the touch sending a shiver down your spine.

Before you can say anything, he leans down, his lips brushing yours in the gentlest, softest kiss. It’s barely there, just enough to make your heart skip, but it’s everything. Your eyes flutter closed as you kiss him back, pouring all your confusion and longing into that single moment.

Suddenly, everything shifts again. You find yourself back in your bed, Jungwoo hovering over you. His lips move tenderly against yours, but your mind is racing. For the first time, you start to register what’s happening, what you’re feeling. This is what love feels like—this rush of warmth, the dizzying sensation that overtakes you, the way every part of you feels alive because of him.

He pulls back just slightly, noticing the tension in your body, the whirlwind of thoughts. “Stop thinking; you’re distracting me,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice soft but commanding.

You nod quickly, breathless. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, my love,” he whispers, the endearment sending a shock through you. He leans down again, this time laying a trail of soft, deliberate kisses down your neck. Each kiss feels like a promise, like a reassurance that everything between you, every moment, is real.

And with each touch of his lips, the racing thoughts in your mind begin to quiet, replaced by the overwhelming feeling of being completely, utterly his.

The sound of your phone buzzing drags you out of sleep. Groggy, you blink against the morning light filtering in through the tall windows. You reach over to the side, expecting to find Jungwoo, but the bed beside you is cold and empty.

You sit up fully, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and glance at your phone. Hendery’s name flashes across the screen. Your stomach tightens at the memory of Doyoung’s warning. The vibration continues in your hand, loud in the quiet room, but you let it ring until it goes to voicemail.

When the call ends, you unlock your phone and frown at the missed notifications: seven calls, seventeen unread messages—all from Hendery.

You sigh, debating for a moment whether to respond. But no part of you wants to dive back into that mess, not yet. You turn the phone face down on the mattress and swing your legs over the edge of the bed.

You walk into the kitchen, spotting Jungwoo at the stove, effortlessly moving the pan. The smell of pancakes lingers in the air, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. You hop up onto the counter, the cool surface grounding you as you slide into place.

Jungwoo looks over his shoulder and flashes you a small, content smile. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” you echo softly, already feeling a little lighter.

He turns off the burner, wipes his hands, and walks over to you. “How did you sleep, my love?”

Your heart flutters at the endearment, even though you’ve heard it before. You give him a small nod. “I slept fine.”

You don’t tell him you could get used to waking up like this.

His eyes search yours for a moment, like he’s reading more than just your words. Then, without warning, he leans in and kisses you. The moment his lips meet yours, everything else melts away—the confusion, the warnings, the unanswered questions. You’re completely intoxicated by the way he kisses you, like the world begins and ends with you.

When he finally pulls away, you blink up at him, breathless, struggling to ground yourself again. He smiles softly, brushing his thumb along your jaw.

“I made you pancakes,” he murmurs, his voice low and affectionate.

Your lips curve into a grin, warmth spreading through your chest. He actually listens to me, you think, savoring the small, intimate gesture. 

Jungwoo plates the pancakes and hands them to you. You take a bite, the sweet taste of syrup and butter filling your senses.

As you eat, he leans against the counter, watching you with that same quiet fondness. “I was thinking...” he begins, tone careful but light, “maybe I could take you out today. A date.”

You pause, looking at him in surprise. “A date?”

He nods, his gaze steady. “I want to make this relationship as normal as I can.”

You stare at him for a beat, and it’s impossible to tell if he’s reassuring you or himself. But you smile, feeling the weight lift from your chest, just a little.

“Okay,” you agree softly.

The two of you stroll through the bustling streets of Chicago, taking in the sights and smells of the city. Every now and then, Jungwoo points out something he finds amusing—a street musician playing way too passionately, or an artist sketching portraits on the spot. You laugh, and he smiles at the sound, a look on his face like he’d bottle up the moment if he could.

You sample different street foods, sharing bites off each other’s forks. He teases you about how many things you want to try, but he still indulges every whim, brushing his shoulder against yours every time you walk too close together.

Everything feels strangely normal, almost too normal—like the otherworldly madness of the last few days had never happened.

That’s when someone bumps into you. Hard.

“Watch where you're going,” the man grumbles, barely sparing you a glance.

Jungwoo immediately stiffens beside you, his playful demeanor gone in an instant. His eyes sharpen as if tracking prey, and before you can react, he steps forward.

“Jungwoo,” you murmur, placing a hand on his arm, “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” You don’t want anything—or anyone—ruining this date.

He glances down at you, his expression unreadable. But instead of letting it go, he leans closer, voice low enough that only you can hear.

“Do you want me to kill him?”

Your heart stutters, and you stare at him, unsure if he’s joking. “That’s not funny, Jungwoo.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be.” His eyes stay locked on the man’s retreating form, cold and calculating.

Before you can say anything more, a sharp whizz cuts through the air. Something flies past your head—so fast you barely register it—and strikes the man from behind. The stranger crumples to the ground, unconscious.

You gasp and whirl around. “Jungwoo, did you kill him?”

Jungwoo smirks, a playful glint returning to his gaze. “Of course not, my love.”

You glance back at the man sprawled across the pavement. “He doesn’t look not dead…”

Jungwoo steps into your line of sight, effectively blocking the view. He tilts his head toward a nearby stand. “How about some hot chocolate?”

Despite everything, you can’t help the way your tension eases as soon as he’s in front of you. His presence has a way of making you forget things—dangerous things.

You let out a breath and shake your head with a small smile. “Fine.”

The rest of the date is blissfully uneventful. You lose track of time wandering the city together, sharing more snacks, stealing shy glances, and falling into step like you’ve been doing this for years. It feels…easy. Like this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

When you finally return to the castle, the weight of reality starts to settle in again. Jungwoo walks you to your room, brushing a soft kiss over your forehead before stepping back.

“I’ll make dinner,” he says. “Stay here and relax.”

You watch him disappear down the hall, already missing the sound of his voice.

And just like that, you're alone, with only the faint scent of him lingering in the room. You sit on the edge of your bed, your mind racing with thoughts of Doyoung’s warning about Hendery. Why had he told you to stay away from him? What could Hendery possibly have to do with all of this? You sigh, running a hand through your hair, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

Just as you start to gather your thoughts, a chill sweeps through the room, raising the hairs on the back of your neck. Instinctively, you glance around, feeling the unmistakable presence of someone else.

“Can you hear my thoughts too?” you ask into the empty room, a mix of curiosity and trepidation in your voice.

Doyoung materializes in front of you, his expression inscrutable. He shakes his head slowly. “No, but I can tell when you’re troubled.”

You fold your arms, trying to muster a sense of confidence despite the unease swirling inside you. “Then why are you here?”

“I figured you might have a few questions.” His tone is calm, yet there’s an underlying tension that makes your heart race.

You find it strange—almost comforting—that you don’t feel scared around him, even knowing what Jungwoo had told you. He had killed you in your past life. Yet here you are, stepping closer, intrigued. “So, that’s why you two don’t get along.”

Doyoung’s gaze softens slightly. “It’s true that I didn’t approve of your relationship. But I would never kill you.” His voice is steady. “I knew your time on Earth was limited compared to Jungwoo’s. I didn’t want his fate to mirror that of our parents. I just… didn’t want to lose all of my family.”

You nod, processing his words. It makes sense, in a twisted sort of way. “What about the dagger?”

Doyoung’s expression shifts, becoming serious. “It’s the only thing that can kill a vampire. But…” He pauses, letting the weight of his next words hang in the air. “Only someone the vampire loves can wield it against them.”

You furrow your brow, trying to wrap your mind around the implications. “So that’s why you’ve been trying to keep it away?”

“Yes,” he confirms, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

You take a breath, preparing to ask how you died in your past life, but just as the words start to form on your lips, the door swings open. Jungwoo strides in, a warm smile on his face.

“Dinner’s ready,” he announces, the tension in the room dissipating as quickly as it had arrived.

Doyoung’s expression shifts, and in an instant, he disappears from view, leaving you momentarily stunned. You turn to Jungwoo, a thousand questions swirling in your mind.

“Wait, Jungwoo, I was just—”

“Hey,” he interrupts gently, walking closer. “You okay?”

You hesitate, your curiosity about your past life flickering in your mind, but his presence grounds you. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Let’s go eat,” he says, a hint of warmth in his smile. You can’t shake the feeling that there’s still so much left unsaid, but you nod and follow him out of the room.

After dinner, you find yourself lying next to Jungwoo, your head resting on his chest. The stillness is comforting, the absence of a heartbeat a gentle reminder that he isn’t going anywhere. You close your eyes for a moment, savoring the peacefulness of the moment.

“You know,” you murmur softly, “you make me want to live. It feels so unfair that I have to die.”

His fingers weave through your hair, the touch soothing. “You’re not going to die,” he replies, his voice steady and reassuring. “I won’t let that happen.”

You want to believe him, but fear lingers in the back of your mind, a shadow threatening to taint your hope. You don’t allow yourself to get your hopes up, knowing the truth of your situation. Instead, you close your eyes, letting the warmth of his presence wash over you as exhaustion begins to pull at your eyelids.

Jungwoo’s fingers continue to play with your hair, each gentle stroke lulling you closer to sleep. “Just rest, my love,” he whispers, and the affection in his voice wraps around you like a warm blanket.

 You drift into a dream and wake up to the warm glow of the 1950s. Glancing down, you see yourself in a pink vintage dress, the fabric soft against your skin, and your hair styled in elegant waves.

You were at work, wiping down the counter of the café where you had spent months. The familiar hum of the city drifted through the open window, mingling with the rhythmic chime of the coffee machine.

Beside you stands Yeri, your coworker, dressed in a fashionable 1950s outfit with a fitted blouse and a full skirt. She flashes you a sardonic smile. “Can you try not to spill coffee on the customers today? Or is that too much to ask?” she quips, her tone dripping with sarcasm. You shoot her a glare, feeling the familiar tension between you two.

“I’ll do my job if you do yours,” you retort, keeping your voice steady as you stack plates. Yeri raises an eyebrow but doesn’t respond, the air thick with unspoken animosity.

Just then, the bell above the café door jingles, and in strides Hendery, a confident grin plastered on his face. “Hey there, gorgeous!” he calls out, leaning against the counter with an easy charm.

“Look who’s back—how original,” Yeri mutters, wiping a glass more forcefully than necessary.

Both of you ignore her as Hendery turns back to you. “You ever take a break?” he asks, his grin widening when you look up, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“Not often,” you reply, managing a small smile, but your heart isn’t in it.

He leans forward, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Then how about I show you around the city? You work too much.”

You raise an eyebrow, skeptical. “And what’s in it for you?”

He chuckles, his tone playful. “Just a little fun. Nothing serious, I promise. I can see you’re taken—at least by that dreamy look in your eyes whenever you drift off mid-shift.”

You feel your cheeks flush but try to play it off. “It’s not like that,” you mutter, but he catches the way your gaze flickers, how you almost avoid mentioning Jungwoo’s name.

“So, what do you say? A casual night, no strings, just a drive-in movie and some good old-fashioned fun,” he suggests, leaning closer.

After a beat of hesitation, you shrug. It wasn’t like you had anything else planned, and Hendery had always been kind—never pushy. “Alright. Why not?” You convince yourself it would be harmless.

The drive-in movie flickered on the screen before you, showcasing a romantic vampire film that made your heart race in a different way. You couldn’t help but think of Jungwoo—the way he moved, the way he looked at you with that blend of intensity and softness that made your breath hitch. The soft hum of the car radio blended with the film’s dialogue, and for a moment, you let the fantasy of it all wash over you, feeling a pang of longing.

Hendery kept the atmosphere light-hearted so far, and you almost felt at ease. The city lights faded behind you as you drove out to a more secluded part of town, everything feeling casual and easy—until it didn’t.

About halfway through the film, you noticed Hendery’s hand inching toward yours on the armrest. At first, you thought it was an accident, but then he leaned in closer. “You cold?” he asked, his voice low, almost too close to your ear.

You shifted uncomfortably, shaking your head. “I’m fine, thanks.”

But he didn’t pull away. His hand slid onto your leg, and your heart skipped a beat—not in a good way. You pushed his hand away gently, yet firmly, turning to face him. “Hendery, I can’t. I have someone. Someone I’m in love with.”

His expression shifted from playful to something darker. “You serious?” he muttered, confusion morphing into disappointment. “I thought that was just for fun.”

“It is fun,” you replied softly, yet firmly, “but I still can’t.”

He mutters something under his breath, his gaze flicking back to the screen, but the weight of his disappointment lingers. For a moment, you think everything is fine—until you feel his hand creeping back.

“Please, take me home,” you insist, your voice rising, desperation creeping in. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

He hesitates, glancing at you. “Come on, it’s just a movie. I thought we were having fun.”

“I said take me home!” you demand, your heart racing, a mix of fear and frustration bubbling to the surface.

Finally, he nods, a reluctant look in his eyes. “Alright, alright. Let’s go.” As he started the car and pulled out of the drive-in, that unease grew. Something about his demeanor had changed—the easygoing Hendery you knew replaced by a quiet intensity that sent shivers down your spine. The streetlights grew sparse, and familiar roads faded behind you, replaced by darkness.

“Where are we going?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Just a shortcut,” he replies, his tone flat.

You glance out the window, the landscape shifting from urban to isolated, trees closing in on both sides. Your heart races with apprehension. “I think I’d rather stick to the main roads.”

But Hendery doesn’t respond. The car veers onto a narrow road that leads deeper into the woods.

“Hendery, please stop!” you say, panic creeping into your voice.

He ignores you, pulling the car off the road and cutting the engine. The silence that follows feels heavy, oppressive. Before you can react, he grips your wrist tightly, his face shifting into something you didn’t recognize—a darkness lurking beneath the surface.

“I’ve been patient,” he hisses. “But I’m done waiting.”

Adrenaline floods your system, and you struggle against his grip. “Let me go!” you shout, fighting to break free. But he’s stronger than you anticipated. Before you know it, you’re being dragged out of the car, the cool night air hitting your skin as you stumble onto the forest floor.

You manage to twist free for just a moment, heart pounding in your chest. You start to run, but Hendery is faster. He catches up to you in a few strides, and before you can scream, a sharp pain sears through your back.

You gasp, collapsing to the ground, feeling the warm, sticky sensation of blood spreading across your skin. Your vision blurs, but in the distance, through the haze of pain and fear, you see a figure emerge from the shadows.

It’s Doyoung.

He moves like lightning, grabbing Hendery and throwing him back, his eyes blazing with fury. But it’s too late—the damage has already been done. The knife is still lodged in your back, and the world around you begins to spin.

Doyoung kneels beside you, his hands shaking as he tries to stop the bleeding. “Stay with me,” he urges, his voice cracking. “You’ll be okay.”

But you can’t respond. The pain is too much, and the world around you is fading fast. You cling to the thought of Jungwoo—his smile, his quiet strength, the way he looked at you as if he saw everything you didn’t want to admit.

Doyoung cradled your lifeless body in his arms, the weight of your stillness pressing heavily against him. Tears streamed down his cheeks, mingling with the blood that stained his pale skin—a stark reminder of his failed attempts to save you. Each drop felt like a dagger to his heart, a testament to his desperation and helplessness. The castle loomed ahead, dark and ominous, but he pushed forward, driven by the urgency of the moment.

As he entered the grand hall, the flickering candlelight cast long shadows, and there, amidst the flicker and gloom, he found Jungwoo. He was pacing, a storm of emotions swirling in his eyes, and when he caught sight of you in Doyoung’s arms, he froze. The world around them seemed to slow as he rushed forward, panic etched on his features. 

Your pink vintage dress, once soft and beautiful, was now marred by the stark, dark crimson stains that spread across the fabric. The blood pooled at your back, soaking into the delicate fibers, transforming the cheerful hue into a haunting reminder of the violence that had taken place. The fabric clung to your skin, glistening ominously in the candlelight, each drop a testament to the life that had been stolen from you.

“Why?” Jungwoo’s voice trembled as he reached for you, his fingers brushing against your cold skin. “Please, just talk to me, my love. I know you can hear me. Please!” His voice cracked, and he pressed his forehead against yours, desperation palpable in his every word.

But you remained still, unresponsive. Jungwoo’s eyes filled with tears as he looked up at Doyoung, fury mingling with heartbreak. “What did you do?” he screamed, the anguish in his voice echoing against the castle walls.

Doyoung’s heart sank further. “I didn’t—” he started, but the words fell flat. “I didn’t do anything! I tried to save her!”

But Jungwoo’s gaze burned with mistrust. “You never wanted us together!” His accusation hung in the air, thick with betrayal. “You’ve always been against it!”

“Jungwoo, please!” Doyoung pleaded, his voice cracking under the weight of his own sorrow. “I wanted her safe! I wanted both of you safe!”

But Jungwoo was beyond reason, tears flowing freely down his cheeks as he clung to your body, the anguish of loss consuming him. “You have to fix this! You have to bring her back!”

The darkness began to swirl around Doyoung as he watched the scene unfold, guilt eating away at him, and he could barely breathe. The weight of the moment pressed down on him until he could no longer bear it.

You jolted upright in bed, gasping for breath, your heart racing as remnants of the horrifying dream clung to your mind. The image of your bloodied pink dress, stained a deep crimson, flashed before your eyes, and the weight of Doyoung’s tears lingered in your chest.

The bed shifted beside you, and you turned to find Jungwoo propped up on one elbow, concern etched across his pale features. His cool skin contrasted sharply with the warmth radiating from your body.

“It’s okay.” he said softly, his voice laced with urgency. “It was just a nightmare.”

You didn’t respond, the words tangled in your throat. You knew this was more than a mere dream; it felt like a glimpse into a dark truth. Instead, you leaned closer, clinging to him as if he were your anchor in the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

Without hesitation, Jungwoo pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest. He wrapped his hands gently through your hair. 

He kissed your forehead tenderly, his lips lingering for a moment longer, sending a wave of tranquility through your frayed nerves. “Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice a low, soothing whisper. “I’m right here.”

But even as you nestled into his embrace, the shadows of your dream loomed in the corners of your mind. You buried your face against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of him, trying to drown out the haunting memories of what you had seen.

“Just breathe,” he urged, his fingers still running through your hair in a gentle, calming rhythm. 

You obey his words, matching your breaths to the soothing strokes of his hand in your hair. Inhale, exhale. The rhythm steadies you, gradually pulling you back from the edge of panic. When your breathing evens out, Jungwoo tilts your chin gently to look at you, his dark eyes filled with quiet concern.

“How do you feel?” he asks softly.

You manage a small nod. “Better,” you whisper.

He brushes his cool fingers across your cheeks, drying the tears you hadn’t even realized were there. The tenderness in his touch stirs something deep inside you, an ache softened only by his presence. Jungwoo takes your hand, turning it in his grasp, and presses a few soft kisses to the back of it, his lips cold but featherlight. You feel his unspoken promise in the gesture—he’s not going anywhere.

He draws you closer, cradling you until the tension leaves your body entirely. His steady hold lulls you into sleep once again, the nightmare momentarily banished by his quiet devotion.

But when morning breaks, the dream haunts you still, fragments flickering behind your closed eyes like pieces of a shattered mirror. You see Hendery’s smirk, the sinister edge to his charm. You remember the terrifying, visceral feeling of your final breath slipping from your lungs. And worst of all, the image of Jungwoo and Doyoung, broken and desperate, clinging to your lifeless body as though willing you back to life.

Jungwoo has been gone for a while now, leaving you with time to think. The pieces of the puzzle slowly start to click into place, though one question still gnaws at you: Why didn’t Jungwoo tell me about Juliette sooner?

Just as the thought takes root, Doyoung appears without a sound, his expression solemn. “He forced himself to forget,” Doyoung says, his voice quiet but heavy with emotion. “He thought if he erased those memories, he could move on. But in the end, he lost everything.”

You study Doyoung’s face—the sorrow etched into his features, the weight of regret that clings to him. Despite everything, you feel a flicker of sympathy for him. He had tried to protect his brother in the only way he knew how. But instead of saving his family, he had watched it all unravel.

A wave of determination sweeps over you. You know now what you have to do. This can’t go on. This hundred-year feud between Jungwoo and Doyoung—it has to end.

Taking a deep breath, you step back and call softly, “Jungwoo.”

And just like that, he’s with you again—because all it ever takes is calling his name.

Jungwoo’s expression darkens the second his eyes land on his brother. “What are you doing here? Get away from her,” he snaps, voice sharp like a dagger.

The protective fury in his gaze is something you’ve only seen once before—dangerous and unyielding. His whole body tenses as if ready to lunge at Doyoung, a low growl in his throat.

Before things can escalate, you blurt out, “Doyoung didn’t kill me!”

Jungwoo’s gaze snaps to you, confusion and disbelief clouding his features. “What?” His voice is low, as if he misheard.

You swallow hard, heart racing. “He didn’t kill me,” you repeat, meeting his intense gaze. “He tried to save me.”

“No, he—” Jungwoo starts to protest, but you cut him off.

“I was attacked by someone else that night,” you say, your voice steady but soft. “When Doyoung showed up, it was already too late... But he did everything he could to bring me back.”

Jungwoo’s fists clench at his sides, the weight of your words settling over him like stones. His anger fractures, replaced by something raw and painful.

“He’s not the enemy, Jungwoo,” you whisper. “He’s your brother. You’re all he has left. You both lost your parents... Don’t lose each other, too.”

Jungwoo stares at Doyoung, his emotions shifting beneath the surface—anger giving way to regret, and regret yielding to guilt. You walk over to him and gently place a hand on his arm. “I think he deserves an apology,” you say quietly.

A moment passes in thick silence before Jungwoo steps toward his brother. His jaw tightens as if the apology is physically difficult to say. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “I shouldn’t have blamed you. I just—” He breaks off, the words catching in his throat. “I thought I lost her because of you.”

Doyoung’s eyes soften, and for the first time, the cracks in his icy composure show. “I missed you,” he says, voice trembling slightly. “I missed you every day.”

Jungwoo’s breath hitches, and when he finally looks at Doyoung, the guarded walls around his heart crumble completely. “I missed you, too,” he whispers, voice barely audible.

Doyoung steps forward and pulls Jungwoo into a tight embrace, gripping him like he’s afraid to let go. Jungwoo stiffens at first, but then he melts into the hug, wrapping his arms around his brother. In that moment, years of tension, anger, and heartache dissolve between them.

Watching them reunite sends a wave of warmth through you. The years of pain and misunderstanding no longer linger like a dark cloud, and for the first time, you feel at peace. A small smile tugs at your lips, knowing that you can finally rest in the castle—no longer haunted by the past.

After a long moment, Doyoung turns to you with a faint smile. “I know we didn’t get off on the right foot…”

You cut him off with a grin. “We’re alright now.”

He nods, a quiet understanding passing between the three of you. 

The night settles in, the quiet hum of the forrest fading into the background. You slip under the blankets and curl into Jungwoo’s side. His body is cool, but it’s familiar now..

After a long stretch of silence, you finally ask, “Do you think you and Doyoung will be alright after I’m gone?”

Jungwoo freezes beside you, his entire body going still, and you immediately regret saying it. He turns to look at you, his expression hard to read, but his eyes are sharp with something close to panic.

“You’re not going to die.” His voice is low, steady, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s daring the universe to try.

You give him a sad little smile. “Even if we find a cure... I’m still human, Jungwoo. One day... I will die.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and unavoidable. Jungwoo’s jaw tightens, like he’s trying to keep himself from breaking. His hand slides into yours, gripping it firmly, as if that alone can keep you here with him forever.

“I’ve waited too long for you,” he whispers. “I’m not losing you again. Not now. Not ever.”

Your throat tightens, and you squeeze his hand. “I don’t want to leave you either—”

“Then don’t.” He says it so softly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Before you can argue or overthink it, his lips meet yours. It’s a gentle kiss, but there’s a desperation underneath it, like he’s trying to tell you everything he can’t put into words.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs against your mouth. “Forever.”

He kisses you again—slower this time—and the rest of the world falls away. No more fears, no more questions. Just him, grounding you in the moment, holding you close.

You melt into him, letting the weight of everything slip away. Wrapped up in his arms, you feel lighter. Safe. Whole.

Sleep comes easily. And for the first time in a long time, you feel at peace, like this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

But you should’ve known it wouldn’t last for long.

Dr. Jeong adjusts his glasses as you settle into the chair across from him. His office smells faintly of antiseptic and paper, a constant reminder of the cold, clinical reality you’ve tried so hard to avoid. He leans forward, his hands folded on the desk.

“I won’t sugarcoat it,” he says with a sigh. “Your health is declining faster than we anticipated.”

You force yourself to sit still, hands gripping the edge of the chair. “How much faster?”

“You might not make it to the end of the month.”  His voice is gentle, but the weight of those words feels anything but. “Have you been under any unusual stress lately?”

You manage a brittle laugh, though nothing about the situation feels funny. “Just a little.”

Dr. Jeong gives you a knowing look but doesn’t press further. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but we need to monitor things closely. If anything changes—”

“I know the drill,” you cut him off, your voice quieter than you intended. “I’ll come back. Or maybe I won’t.”

He frowns, but there’s no lecture—just the kind of exhausted empathy that comes from watching patients walk this tightrope between hope and inevitability.

“I get that this is overwhelming,” Dr. Jeong says, his tone softening. “But you still have time. There’s always a chance—”

“No, there isn’t,” you mutter. “Not really.”

The words hang heavy in the air between you. He doesn’t argue, and that, somehow, makes it worse.

When the appointment ends, you thank him out of habit, though it feels hollow. As you walk out of the office, the weight of everything hits you like a freight train.

You barely make it past the lobby before your knees buckle. The floodgates open, and before you can stop yourself, you’re sitting on the cold hospital floor, sobbing.

It feels like the dam you’ve been holding up for weeks has finally burst. All the fear, the helplessness, and the heartbreak you’ve tried to bury come rushing out at once.

That’s when you hear your name.

You look up through tear-blurred eyes to see Yeri walking toward you, concern etched on her face. You sit up, hurriedly wiping your tears with the sleeve of your shirt as her voice breaks through the haze.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, her brows knitting together.

You glance away, embarrassed to be caught like this. “I had an appointment,” you mumble.

Yeri frowns. “I’m here to meet my brother,” she says casually, as if she’s filling in a blank. But then, she sees the look on your face, and something in her shifts. “What’s wrong?”

The words are heavy on your tongue, but you force them out. “I’m… dying.”

Her expression changes instantly—gone is the sharp, cool exterior. For a moment, it’s as if time freezes. The subtle disbelief in her widened eyes melts into something unfamiliar on her: empathy.

“You’re serious?” she whispers, and when you nod, you swear you see her heart break just a little. “How long… How long have you known?”

“A while,” you admit, shrugging. “It’s not like it’s new. It’s just… things are getting worse now.”

Yeri’s lips part, but no words come out. She looks away, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Then, finally, she whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t think you’d care,” you say, brushing away another tear that slips out.

She looks back at you, almost offended. “I know I can be a bitch sometimes, but… I’m trying to work on it.”

You let out a shaky laugh, and before you know it, Yeri’s arms wrap around you. You hesitate for a second, then lean into the hug, letting her warmth pull you out of the spiral you'd been drowning in. 

You make it back home, exhaustion weighing on you like a second skin. Despite everything swirling inside your mind, you force yourself to cook dinner. Jungwoo and Doyoung are already sitting at the table when you bring the food out, exchanging casual banter that feels too normal given the day you’ve had.

You sit with them, listening quietly as they talk about old memories and trivial things. Every now and then, Jungwoo sneaks a glance at you, concern flickering across his eyes. You smile faintly in return, not wanting to spoil the moment.

After dinner, you excuse yourself to get a glass of water, your legs feeling heavier with every step toward the kitchen. The ache in your chest spreads, but you shake it off. You just need some water.

You grab a glass, fill it, and bring it to your lips—then, the room tilts.

The glass slips from your hand.

You hear the shatter before you feel yourself collapsing, the jagged pieces scattering across the floor.

“Hey!” someone shouts—Jungwoo, maybe. You’re not sure.

Your knees buckle, and you hit the ground a moment after the cup, the cold tiles pressing against your cheek as darkness creeps in from the edges of your vision.

The last thing you register is hurried footsteps and a pair of hands—cold, strong—grabbing you before the world blinks out.

You wake up to Jungwoo and Doyoung hovering over you, their faces tight with worry. The air feels heavy with unspoken truths, and you can sense that neither of them is willing to bring up what just happened. Your condition is worsening, and it’s a reality you all avoid confronting.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Jungwoo asks, his voice laced with concern. He brushes a stray hair from your forehead, and the coolness of his fingers sends a shiver down your spine.

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice. “I feel... okay. Just tired, I guess.” But you know it’s more than that. You know the truth.

Doyoung steps forward, his brow furrowing. “You scared us. We thought you were really hurt this time.”

You nod slowly, the weight of the unspoken hanging in the air. “I’m sorry for worrying you both.”

Jungwoo's eyes darken as he grips your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “I love you,” he says suddenly, his words hanging heavily between you. “I’ve waited a hundred years to say that.”

You sit up slowly, ignoring the ache in your body. “I don’t have much time left, Jungwoo.”

His jaw tightens, and he shakes his head vehemently. “No, you’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“Why do you keep ignoring it?” you push back, frustration rising in your chest. “Every time I bring it up, you just change the subject. I’m dying, Jungwoo.”

His grip on your hand tightens, as if holding on harder can change reality. “You’re not. You just need to focus on getting better.”

“Jungwoo...” You can’t help but feel a sense of desperation in your chest, and you pull your hand away. “You need to let me go. You’ll be okay. You have Doyoung, and you’ll find me again. In another life.”

He leans closer, his expression fierce and unyielding. “I don’t want another version of you. I want you. If I can’t live in a world with you, then I won’t live in one without you.”

Tears blur your vision, and you bite your lip to keep from sobbing. You know he means it, and the thought of him not wanting to go on without you crushes your heart.

“Jungwoo,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I can’t—”

“Just tell me you love me back,” he urges, his voice breaking slightly.

You take a shaky breath, looking away from him. “I can’t. I need you to let me go.”

“I won’t,” he says fiercely. “You’re going to stay with me. We’re going to find a way.”

The fight leaves your body, and all you can do is surrender. “Will you read me a story?” you finally ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, determination flickering in his gaze as he brushes his thumb over your cheek. “Of course. Anything for you.”

Doyoung silently excuses himself from the room, casting one last glance your way before closing the door behind him.

Jungwoo settles beside you, pulling you gently into his arms. As he flips through the pages of an old book, his voice fills the room like a lullaby. The words wrap around you, and slowly, your eyelids grow heavy.

Jungwoo’s voice is soft as he reads, the rhythm of his words lulling you deeper into sleep. His arms are warm around you, steadying you in a world that feels like it’s constantly shifting beneath your feet. As you drift off, you feel the weight of exhaustion pulling you under. When your breathing slows and your body relaxes, Jungwoo glances down at your tear-streaked face. Gently, he brushes your tears away with his thumbs, his touch lingering just a little longer than necessary.

He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, as if to say the things he can’t bring himself to say out loud. You sleep on, undisturbed, even as he shifts out from under you, slipping quietly off the bed.

The room feels heavier without him, though you’re too far gone to notice the soft click of the door or the faint sound of his footsteps retreating down the hall.

When Jungwoo returns, he’s careful not to wake you. He carries something tucked behind his back, his expression unreadable in the dim moonlight spilling through the window. The mattress dips slightly under his weight as he slides back into bed, pulling you close like nothing’s changed.

You stir, eyelids fluttering open just enough to catch a glimpse of his face, illuminated by the eerie glow of the red moon outside. For a second, everything feels quiet and safe. But then your gaze drops to his hand.

There’s a dagger in it—gleaming silver, sharp, and cold.

Your stomach drops. The drowsiness leaves you all at once, replaced by a cold rush of fear.

“Jungwoo…” Your voice is shaky, like it belongs to someone else.

His eyes don’t waver. There’s a strange calm in them, as if he’s already made peace with what he’s about to do. “I won’t lose you again,” he whispers, his voice low and steady, almost tender.

Before you can stop him, he raises the dagger, the sharp edge catching the moonlight. You barely have time to think—your breath hitching in your throat—before your body takes over.

“No!” you cry, thrashing against him. Your panic explodes like wildfire, adrenaline fueling every movement. Somehow, you manage to slip out of his grip, your hands shoving him away just as the dagger begins to fall.

The blade clatters onto the bed, but Jungwoo’s already reaching for you, his eyes desperate.

You don’t give him the chance. Your heart pounds in your chest as you stumble off the bed, your bare feet hitting the cold floor with a jarring thud.

“Y/n, wait—” His voice cracks, but you’re already gone.

The castle feels suffocating, walls closing in as you fly through the hallways, your pulse hammering in your ears. You shove the front doors open with a sharp creak, and the cool night air hits you like a slap.

You don’t stop. Not even when the branches of the forest whip against your skin, stinging like tiny knives. Every step feels clumsy and wild, but you keep going, sprinting deeper into the dark woods.

Behind you, he’s close—too close. You can feel him, not in a physical way but in that eerie, unsettling way that only Jungwoo can make you feel. Like a shadow that clings too tightly.

You bite back a sob and push yourself harder, lungs burning as the ground shifts beneath your feet. The night animals stir, their cries eerie and unnatural, twisting into strange, mocking laughter that sends chills down your spine.

But none of that matters. You can’t think. You can’t stop. All you know is that if you slow down, if you let him catch you—it’s over.

Your breath is ragged, every inhale sharp and painful, but the fear pushing you forward is stronger than the ache in your legs. Branches snap beneath your feet, leaves rustle around you, and still, you feel him closing in, like a storm that’s only seconds away from breaking.

You keep running, branches clawing at your skin and your breaths coming out in desperate gasps. The cold night air stings your lungs, but you don’t stop. You can’t. Then, through the shadows ahead, you spot it—his silhouette, standing perfectly still with the dagger glinting in his hand.

Your chest tightens as he takes a step toward you. Instinctively, you inch back, tears blurring your vision. “No, no, no... please, Jungwoo,” you whisper, your voice trembling, desperate. But he doesn’t respond. His eyes are locked on you, unreadable, determined. Every step you take back, he matches with one forward, closing the distance inch by inch.

You know screaming would be useless. The only person who could save you is the same one chasing you now. A sob escapes your lips as you look around frantically for a way out, but it’s like the forest itself is working against you, trapping you in.

Then, just like that—he’s gone.

You spin wildly, searching the darkness. “Where did you go?” you whisper, panic flooding your voice. The woods feel alive, the wind rustling the trees, twisting his name in the air like a taunt. Your pulse pounds in your ears, and every rustle of a leaf feels like it could be him, lurking just out of reach.

You stumble forward, looking behind you, then ahead—until you slam into someone.

Strong arms wrap around you, steadying you, and your whole body stiffens with fear. 

“I’ve got you.”

Doyoung’s voice is soft, impossibly gentle, like the calm before a storm. Relief crashes over you, and for a moment, you feel safe. You let out a shaky breath, sinking into his hold as if it’s the only thing keeping you upright.

Then you feel it—the sharp, cold weight of metal buried deep in your chest.

our body freezes as you stare down at the dagger lodged in your chest. You expect to feel pain—a sharp, blinding agony—but there’s nothing. No blood. No warmth leaving your body. Just an eerie stillness, as if the blade were nothing more than a shadow.

With shaky hands, you grip the dagger's hilt and slowly pull it free. There’s no resistance, no tear of flesh—just the quiet slide of metal against skin. The silence that follows is deafening. You should be dead. You know you should be. But here you are, standing in Doyoung’s arms, alive.

Your gaze flickers between the dagger and Doyoung, heart completely still just like the moment. His expression is unreadable, a strange mixture of sorrow and something else—something deeper. You choke on your breath, feeling betrayed but too stunned to speak.

“Why…?” Your voice is a broken whisper, trembling with disbelief.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he looks at you as if this is exactly how it was meant to happen.

“Jungwoo…” you murmur, your voice cracking as the realization sets in. You glance around wildly, expecting him to step out from the shadows, to stop whatever nightmare this is. But there’s only Doyoung, still holding you like you're fragile glass about to shatter.

The dagger slips from your fingers and lands with a dull thud on the forest floor. You stagger backward, breaking out of Doyoung’s grip, breath hitching in your throat as the weight of everything crashes down on you.

“You’re okay,” Doyoung says softly, kneeling beside you. His calm voice barely breaks through the chaos in your mind.

You clutch your chest, trying to make sense of what’s going on. “What’s happening to me?” you whisper, feeling a strange sensation blooming inside—like something ancient awakening, something you’ve never felt before.

Doyoung gently lifts you into his arms, holding you as if you weigh nothing. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs. The familiar woods blur around you as he carries you back to the castle.

When you arrive, the heavy doors creak open, and you see Jungwoo pacing frantically inside, his movements restless and anxious. But the second his glowing eyes meet yours, his entire body stills.

You’re standing in front of him now, but the words catch in your throat. Instead of speaking, Jungwoo closes the distance, cupping your face in both hands. His touch is tender, as though he’s reassuring himself that you’re real. His eyes search yours desperately, and the tension in his expression eases only when he sees that, aside from a few scratches from the woods, you’re unharmed.

Without a word, Jungwoo takes your hand in his. You feel his fingers tremble slightly as he slides a silver ring over your finger. The cool metal settles on your skin like a promise, an unbreakable bond between you. He holds your gaze, his expression filled with something both triumphant and reverent.

“Now we can be together forever,” he whispers, his voice like a vow.

His words sink deep into the hollowness inside your unbeating heart, stirring something that feels strangely like joy. A soft smile tugs at your lips—your first since everything changed—and in that moment, the fear slips away, replaced by something new.

You lean in, brushing your lips against his, your new fangs grazing his bottom lip. Jungwoo exhales, the corners of his mouth curving into a smile against yours. There’s no urgency, just the quiet certainty of two souls finally finding each other after lifetimes apart. 

You were going to get fired.

You felt it in your bones. Your leg wouldn’t stop fidgeting as you sat in Irene’s office, the crest of the organization looming over you making you feel small. 

Irene walked in, her face cold as stone as she threw a file in front of you before she sat on her chair, “this is your new job.”

You blinked, “what?”

“Initially, I was going to give it to Seulgi and put you on probation-.”

“I killed the vampire cleanly and quickly-.”

“And in front of another human,” Irene cut you off before pinching the bridge of her nose, “look. An insider told us that  you would work best for this job, and,” she sighed before opening the manilla folder, “I think they’re right. The puppeteer has been missing for months after we had finally devised a plan to take the motherfucker out.”

You squinted as you looked over the carefully collected information before you asked, “how much time do I have?”

“Not a lot, so hurry up.” -----------

The library was warm and inviting. It was a small public library that matched the small town it was nestled in. Even when agents were sent weeks ago, they all agreed- it was entirely unremarkable, which made him an even stranger anomaly. The town itself was often forgotten on maps and glossed over, but as you entered the library, you were in awe of the coziness. 

It was almost too easy to find out everything about him. Graduated from community college in library sciences. No one had a single mean thing to say about him besides that he was awfully quiet in high school. Apparently he hadn’t been in a long term relationship in years either. Your angle had written itself to ensnare him without much help from anyone else in the organization.

You sauntered in slowly, your heels muffled by the dusty carpet as you approached the center table where he sat. You had on a dress that hugged your body perfectly that stopped at your calves, your dark sunglasses, and your freshly done hair topped with a silk bandana.

You found it difficult to hold back your laughter as he locked eyes with you. He was processing a few returned books when he dropped his stamp to fully stare at you. You gave yourself permission to smirk once you made it to the desk, leaning against it to allow him to take full stock of you. His big brown eyes were scanning over every part of you, and by the tremble of his jaw you could tell he was fully trying to hold himself back.

"Hi sir, could you help me out?" your voice was low, and you watched as his dropped jaw slowly lifted. He blinked quickly, looking between your chest and lips before he cleared his throat and looked away, his ears now an embarrassing shade of red. The council had perfectly planned every minute detail down to the final strand of hair, and he was reacting even more deliciously than anticipated. 

It was almost too easy how much he was falling like putty in your hands.

"O-Of... of course! How can I help, miss?"

You removed your sunglasses and placed your hand on his chest where his name tag sat.

"Well... Sungchan," you smiled, tracing your fingers over his name before placing them back to your side, "I'm currently working on a project for a research course."

You began spouting off on a topic you knew Sungchan was absolutely fascinated by. The Vampire Hunter Council had done extensive research on the half-human bastard off-spring of the missing high profile leader of the Vampires. The puppeteer’s son’s eyes were still rounded, hanging onto every word coming out from between your glossy lips as you spoke.

After you finished, there was a pause, and then, "you're perfect."

"I'm sorry?" you pretended to not hear his mutter as you batted your eyelashes at him. He was half-vampire, but as far as you could tell either his vampiric side was fully dormant or barely did much- there were no reports of missing humans in the area, didn’t seem to have his father’s gifts, he was not nocturnal, and didn't bare any fangs.

You almost felt bad about having to kill him.

Even if Sungchan didn't know his monster of a father, it was still an absolute shame to vampires to have your offspring be murdered, and you planned to bring Sungchan's head to the feet of the Puppeteer. At least, that’s the plan. You’ll have to lob Sungchan’s head off after using him as bait to bring the puppeteer out from hiding. 

Sungchan had led you to the back of the library, his large hands holding several books and tapes for you.

“You seem to know a lot… are you busy later? I would love to pick your brain,” You were nearly purring, your hands squeezing his forearm. Cold. Not as cold as other vampires you’ve suckered into thinking you’re weak before killing them, but still colder than an average human. Was this the only way his vampiric side showed?

“No! I mean… I’m not I…” Sungchan was sputtering out now, his free hand pushing up his glasses.  “I- I would love to help you.”

“Hm… are those prescriptions?” You asked, your fingers moving to tap the bridge of his glasses and watch his breathing hitch. Vampires typically had enhanced vision, and while he was only half-human, none of his medical records showed that he had any possible visual impairments.

“N-no they’re for the uh… blue light…” he muttered, clearly flustered. After he led you back to the front desk he began typing away at the computer before nervously looking back up. "Do you have your library card?"

Before you left the vampire hunters council headquarters, you were given every bit of fake identification you would need and this indeed included a library card.

"I... I've never seen you around here before," he was clearly racking his head to remember you as he continued the check out process. He had read off your name, and you watched him whisper it to himself to commit it to memory.

"I got it somewhere else in the county," you fibbed, "so. I'll see you at the diner at 9?"

"Y-yes, absolutely."

_______________

You arrived at 9:12pm.

Sungchan sat in the corner in a small red booth with a bouquet of flowers, twiddling his thumbs upon your entrance. There were only three other patrons at the small diner, all at the counter with their backs to you as they stared up at the old television set playing a hockey game.

According to your research, Sungchan had gone on a few dates with a few people he went to the local high school with- so between his bashfulness, innocence, and likely exhaustion with his small dating pool, his eagerness to see you made sense. It was also something you and the rest of the vampire hunters council were banking on. You needed him to be obsessed with you- to post you online, for everyone in town to see you with the librarian, and allow this information to trickle up to his father. You were a top level hunter and were well hated enough by Vampires that this would not be overlooked- especially not by the Puppeteer.

"You look so handsome," you complimented, sitting across from the nervous young man. You were late on purpose- aiming to put him more on edge. You were in a tight mini dress and a pair of combat boots. A combination in your daily life you wouldn’t normally pick, but from his internet history seemed to be outfit pieces he really loved on women.

“Th-Thank you,” he then shoved the bouquet towards you, “these are for you.”

“Roses,” you hummed, staring down at the perfectly red petals, “you’re so sweet, thank you.”

“Um s-so roses are a great way to convey joy, friendship… passion,” he scratched the back of his neck bashfully. “They’re beautiful and uh… reminded me of you.”

“Roses are my favorite… are you a mind reader Sungchan?” you playfully reached across the table and tapped his shoulder. Lying was easier when you got to mix in the truth. Roses were your favorite, but they were also a part of the crest of the Vampiric Hunters for their scent is supposed to keep vampires at bay.

It seemed to also be another way that Sungchan’s vampiric side didn’t bare its teeth.

Sungchan was sickly sweet. As the weeks passed, each time you would go on a date he would bring either flowers, a book regarding your paper, or a poem he had written for you.

You were inside the motel you were crashing at, recounting this to the president of the hunters.

“Has anyone heard from the puppeteer?” you asked. A part of you was starting to genuinely feel guilty- Sungchan was so human. He ate human food, lounged in the sun, and even seemed to have a heartbeat.

You had considered that his vampiric powers had simply never awoken, and that they never would. This was highly uncommon in vampire hybrids, but genetics were fickle, so Sungchan wouldn’t be an exception if he really just seemed fully human despite having a vampire dad.

“No, but it seems like he’s still giving orders through his lackeys. There was even a small scourge of his puppets tearing up a small town,” Irene recounted, “Remember to keep him sweet on you.”

“Did I not read to you this latest poem? The last stanza was talking about how he wants to fuck me and keep me with him forever.”

“Wow, that’s a little creepy… and maybe sweet?”

“His face was all red when I teased him about it.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t fucked him yet.”

“I have to kill him, Irene.”

“That has never stopped you before,” she noted. Irene was right of course. Vampires tended to be overly sexual creatures, so seducing them often led to placing them in more vulnerable positions that could allow you to take advantage of them. 

“Fair,” you muttered, glancing out the window to see the same person who walks their dog at this time every night passing the street across the motel. This town was sleepy and boring, but it was almost odd how scheduled everyone was. No car accidents ever, the same groupings of people throughout town all in the same places. Static.

After you hung up with Irene, you moved across the room to the stack of books you checked out from the library all those weeks ago. They were due soon, and you were planning to swing by the library to drop them off with Sungchan while also sweet talking him with stupid facts you had picked up.

You flitted through the last book you hadn’t opened yet and paused. Crammed in between a few pages was a tightly folded note. Curious, you unraveled it. In extremely messy handwriting and covering the entire sheet was one sentence.

Write forever until I die. Write forever until I die. Write forever until I die.

You squinted and scoffed. Likely it was a kid in detention that was assigned to write out whatever was on the board and instead did this as a weird joke. Without much thought you tossed it into the trash.

Still. You had a shiver run down your spine. Wrapping yourself up in a coat, and grabbing the ice bucket you stepped out of your room. Maybe a walk around the motel would make you feel better about having to kill the kid who didn’t ask to be born. 

The ice machine sat in the lobby and was usually only manned by the same two people who would hardly look up from their books. You filled it up and looked back over to see the young man again reading Slaughter-house five.

“Yknow, Vonnegut has written other books,” you joked. The young man flinched, his grip tightening on the book to a point that his knuckles were white. Yet, he didn’t speak or react in any other way. You frowned, and returned to your room.

“Do you like the stars?” Sungchan had asked the following night as you helped him close up at the library. 

“Hm, they are pretty, yes,” you hummed, sitting on the edge of the desk. Just like the other nights you had helped Sungchan, the same patrons who seemed to be there every night, left at the same time in the same fashion, all with the same smile and wave to the librarian as they exited.

“I… Do you wanna go into my truck and look at them?” he asked, and you noted he was avoiding your gaze as the red tint on his ears shone.

“I’m a lady, Sungchan,” you pouted, watching as he seemed to jump, “I hope you’re not… expecting anything.”

He was so easy to fluster. It wasn’t even just to keep him obsessed with you at this point- it was because you found it downright exciting. He was so cute as he jumped up from his seat.

“I would never expect anything from you that you don’t want.”

Sungchan was soft and sweet. Your job as a hunter didn’t allow for much dating outside of your profession, and most other hunters were too preoccupied to give romance much attention. Every minute you spent with Sungchan gave you the delusion that you could leave the life of being a hunter and runaway together. You could protect him, and be happy. But then, you were reminded of the oath you gave, your few friendships, and the fact that you have been lying to Sungchan, and you’re brought back down to earth.

You laid on the trunk bed with Sungchan. He drove out a few miles to empty farmland and covered the trunk bed in pillows and blankets. The stars shone bright in the sky, and you looked up to see Sungchan staring up with a smile on his face. He was beautiful with stars reflecting themselves in his eyes.

“My Mom used to take me out here all the time,” he started, his voice a whisper. “I would get bullied a lot in school, so on the weekends when all of the other kids would hang out, my mom would bring me out here and tell me stories.”

“I’m sorry kids were so cruel to you,” you were sincere, squeezing his arm as you laid on his chest, “do… you have any favorite stories? I’d love to hear them.”

“It’s okay- I got to be the bigger person in the end,” you swear you could hear a smirk, but you were too comfortable to check, “but stories… well. She would always tell me this one story whenever I was really down.”

He cleared his throat, kissed the top of your head, and started working from his memory, “there was once a sickly, meek child. He had a hard time gathering his breath, and struggled to keep up with other kids his age. Running was especially a challenge, and his legs would often give out as his peers would run off, laughing at him. He was clumsy, and his limbs were so stiff and wooden. He began to be known as the puppet because of this. Between the torture of the other children, and the torture of his own body, the boy fell deathly ill. The local doctor told the boy’s mother that her son only had a few hours left at best- but, if she gave her own life, her son could live forever.”

Sungchan paused, and you could hear him swallow thickly before continuing, “the mother begged for there to be another way. It was just her and her boy- while her son could live forever, how was he going to grow fully into a capable young man without a guiding hand? The doctor assured the mother though, that the son wouldn’t be alone. He will create a new family of his own one day.”

“And so, the boy was not only given the gift of eternal life, but also another, even more special gift,” he hummed a bit then, “can you take a guess?”

There was a chill that raced down your spine. You sat your chin on his chest, meeting his eyes. You absolutely could take a guess- a real guess, but you decided to continue playing dumb, “hmmm, flying? So he could fly far away from the bullies?”

Sungchan chuckled before he kissed the tip of your nose, “no, but that’s a great guess. The boy was able to control the minds of those bullies, so they could never be cruel to anyone ever again.”

“The puppet became the puppeteer,” you froze, unable to stop yourself. His mother presented this story, and Sungchan had it fully memorized without realizing that the puppeteer was his own father.

“Yeah,” Sungchan was quiet before he met your gaze. “I know you won’t be here forever, but I wish you could stay. I want to know everything about you. Did your parents tell you stories at night?”

“My parents died when I was very young,” you confessed, “they were killed in a home invasion.”

This was partially the truth. Your parents were killed in a home invasion of a pair of twin vampires who slaughtered them mercilessly. You were in the room next door when it happened, hiding under the bed until it was over. The hunters arrived hours later, and you were then adopted into their ranks.

“I’m… I’m so sorry. That’s not fair,” he squeezed you closely and you shrugged.

“Can’t change the past,” you shrugged, forcing a smile.

Despite your own hesitations, you gave in to Sungchan’s begging, and stayed the night at his place. You couldn’t sleep though, and after you were sure he was knocked out, you stepped outside to the back of the apartment complex to call your closest friend.

“Seulgi… he’s a human,” you whisper cried. The back of Sungchan’s apartment complex held a small forest, and seemed to absorb any bit of light the complex offered.

“And you’re sure he’s not manipulating you?”

“You know I can always spot that shit. Remember the orphanage?”

“Vampires turning young children into vampires so they could more easily kidnap humans… you spotted it faster than Irene did,” Seulgi conceited. There was a rustle in the trees and you froze. Your small wooden stake was always hidden somewhere on your person, this time in the lining of your jacket.

“It’s your job, though. Think of the lives you’ll save by bringing the puppeteer out of the shadows.”

“I’ve gotta go,” you hung up, shoving your phone back into your pocket and sliding out the stake. The forest was quiet, and for a moment you thought you imagined it.

Then, a hand holding a clean white napkin appeared before the rest of their body followed.

“I’m not here to attack, just have a chat,” Yuta had a mischievous grin as he skipped out from the forest and towards you. Yuta was a five hundred year old vampire who had climbed the Royal ranks due to his ability to game information. He was never a liar, but just someone who knew how to use knowledge to his advantage.

“You miss me?” You taunted, arms crossed.

“Of course,” he simpered, now fully in your view as the lighting coated him. He was inhumanely handsome, which was to be expected. “However, that’s not why I’m here.”

“And why are you here? Yknow, most people drive past this tiny little town and yet…” you let your voice trail off, an eyebrow raised as you studied his features. 

“I’m one of the few people that know about Sungchan, the puppeteer has kept his half-human son under wraps for a while. How did the hunters find him?” 

“Ah, so you want information from me?” You chuckled at his nerve.

“Hm, I think we can exchange actually,” he raised his eyebrow, and your eyes widened instinctually. Now this was very appealing. “You see, I pop in every few months to see how the young man is doing. Check him out from a far. Then, I write out a report, and give it to his dear old daddy.”

“Why would you tell me where he is?” 

“Hm, perhaps I have my own ulterior motives for leading a top hunter directly to him,” Yuta then took out an envelope from his shirt pocket. “Tell me our leak, and I’ll tell you what you want.”

“It wasn’t a leak,” you rolled your eyes, “Sungchan did one of those family ancestry online dna things. We utilized it see if there was any human-vampire matches… he just popped up one day.”

“God, is there no such thing as data privacy anymore?” Yuta sucked his fangs before extending the envelope towards you. “I hope you are prepared to face the true wrath of the puppeteer.”

You slid back upstairs after a short while, the envelope tucked into your jacket.

——-

Yuta was a fucking liar. The address made no sense- it was clearly just Sungchan’s apartment. You wanted to rip your hair out- how could you be so stupid?

While Sungchan was at work you looked through every crevice of his place, and the only off putting thing you could find was his high school yearbook. God, the kids were so cruel to him. Sungchan couldn’t hurt a damn fly now as a fully grown man, let alone defend himself against the relentless bullies he faced.

You were hitting a dead end. No other vampires had made their way to the town since Yuta a month ago, Sungchan had completely become infatuated with you, and you were becoming too close to the half-breed. 

One night, after he returned from work, you bought a bottle of wine. You had hoped potentially getting him a little drunk could coax any memory of his father out. He had spoken at length about how great his mother was, but shrugged off any prodding you made about his dad. It didn’t help that Irene was breathing down your neck, and Seulgi was struggling to keep her at bay.

“It’s not too strong, is it? I’m not good with alcohol,” He giggled as he helped you uncork the bottle.

“It’s not strong,” you lied as he took out two untouched wine glasses from the cabinet.

“Oh, can you grab me my phone? I left it in the bathroom,” he smiled. Without a second thought, you maneuvered to the bathroom to take it off the counter. While you still on occasion stayed at the motel, Sungchan was incredibly needy. And since your job was to keep him interested in you, you felt inclined to bend to his will, especially when he didn’t care about anything else you did. You still hadn’t even slept with him yet, much to Seulgi’s and your own surprise.

No messages on Sungchan’s phone, or calls, as per usual. You knew he didn’t have a ton of friends or anything, but it was still… weird. No one else in town spoke to you unless it was more than a word and you initiated it. Everything here had felt fake, but without any real reason to be suspicious, you couldn’t really share your concerns. A town full of people, and yet it still felt empty to you.

Seulgi was busy keeping Irene from slashing your throat, so your own phone has been dull as of late. Maybe Sungchan just sincerely didn’t use his phone, ever, unless it was to speak to you.

“Here, Sungie,” you placed it on the counter, and took the drink he handed off to you. You took a large sip and frowned slightly to yourself.

“Everything okay?” He tilted his head, his beautiful brown eyes filled with concern.

“No I guess I just left the wine under the sun for too long,” you reason, taking another sip. It was a little funky, as if the wine had soured.

“Ah, maybe. All wine tastes the same to me,” he took a sip of his own, and you noticed the small dimple that formed and disappeared.

“What are you ssssmiling about?” You asked. Your words came out more slurred than you’d like. You were a strong drinker, but you also haven’t been drinking as much lately. Maybe that’s why the wine was hitting you faster than usual?

Sungchan leaned a little closer, his hand holding your chin up, “how long were you planning to lie to me?”

Your eyelids were heavy, and you leaned your head fully on his hand as you slowly processed what he said, “I… haven’t -.”

“You thought that I wouldn’t notice a pair of hunters in my town following me around?” He squeezed your chin and you yelped in surprise. You were fighting your body now, trying to stay awake despite whatever he put in your drink. “I’ve been waiting for you… for so long. I’ve planned it all and yet… you still won’t be honest with me. That’s okay though. I’ll forgive you.”

————-

You don’t remember meeting Sungchan, but he remembered you.

Years ago, Sungchan had done a solo trip to the big city, and wanted to test his world. Everyone did what he said at all times- how far could he push this gift?

“That’ll be $4.26 for your coffee, sir.”

“This coffee is free for me,” Sungchan hummed. He didn’t ever have to do extra work to make this gift pop in- whatever his wish was, as long as it was physically possible, was his command. 

“Yes, your coffee is free,” the man nodded as Sungchan walked off. 

This is how Sungchan lived life. He had gotten the entire shit town he lived in to follow his every whim. The world was his giant dollhouse. 

Until you shattered it.

Sungchan was able to control the folks working the front desk at the nicest hotel he could find. He was set up in the best possible suite, and sat one night at their rooftop lounge that overlooked the concrete city.

“It’s a great view,” a voice above the chatter of other guests caught his attention. You wore a simple dark t shirt and dark pants, and spared him a smile as you leaned against the railing with him.

“Yeah,” was all Sungchan offered. It was difficult to force himself to engage in conversations anymore, but you were pretty enough that he didn’t feel like shooing you away.

“What brings you here?” You asked, your gaze still set on the city below.

“Hm, I’m on a journey of self-discovery. You?”

“I’m here for work,” you replied. Sungchan looked at you again. Your voice was nice, you were attractive, and he didn’t have other plans.

“Come to my room with me,” he spoke, moving off the railing. Instead of your eyes losing their sparkle and glazing over, though, you stayed just as you were.

Instead, you burst out laughing.

“You’re funny,” you chuckled, unmoving. He froze. Maybe he didn’t say it loud enough.

“Come-.”

“You wish. Maybe buy me a drink next time,” you gently shoved his arm, and then disappeared out of the lounge.

Sungchan was frozen, his eyes not moving from where you once stood next to him. After what felt like hours, he rushed downstairs to the concierge and got your information.

You were made for Sungchan, you had to be. Why else would the universe deliver him the exciting puzzle that was you? A vampire hunter since childhood was now the only being Sungchan, a half-vampire, couldn’t control. It was fate. To him, you were star crossed lovers, destined for one another despite the complications.

Sungchan had discovered his parentage early in life. He was able to easily get his mother to tell him the truth about his father since she, like everyone else, was susceptible to their gifts. 

So, his next steps to get you trapped, were set.

Sungchan had been using the town he lived in as a dollhouse for years beforehand. He loved testing the limits of his abilities, and had hoped that it would one day awaken his proper vampiric powers. In the meantime, though, he would use the citizens to cultivate a proper image for the hunters to happen upon.

Having every town member edit their social medias. Perfectly crafting and tailoring his existence to seem like a shy, bullied child. Make sure every person in town, if ever approached, all know exactly what to say. All that was left was to get a few vampires that knew their way around the hunters so Sungchan could fully execute his plan.

———-

You were awake, but kept your eyes shut.

It was a technique learned early in your hunter training, but one you didn’t ever use. You didn’t lose the upper hand often enough to be foolishly knocked out.

And, yet, you failed.

“Your breathing is uneven and your heart rate spiked,” his voice sent a chill down your spine.

You cracked open your eyes. You were laid on a plush mattress, and Sungchan sat at the corner of the bed, his eyes unmoving from you. 

You wanted to die. Sungchan’s big, beautiful brown eyes that you had become prey for, were gone and replaced with your worst fear. Ruby red eyes, and they were fixed on you.

“You awakened me,” he cooed, crawling towards where you laid. Your eyes searched the space frantically for anything to defend yourself with. Your wrists were bound by rope, and you had been stripped down and changed into a completely different outfit without any of your hidden weapons. The bed you sat on was on top of a metal bed frame, and the wooden nightstands didn’t offer a quick change into a stake. You sat there, like a piece of fresh meat as he now hovered over you. “I want to show you something.”

Sungchan tossed you over his shoulder like you were nothing, taunting you with his newly found vampiric strength. You were reeling.

“You were out cold for three days. I didn’t think what I added to the wine would do that much,” he chuckled as he carried you past beautiful marble flooring and down a few sets of staircases. You were trying to create a mental map, but he was going too fast for you to get much down. “I’m so happy you’re finally here so I can show you your gift.”

Like you were a child, Sungchan placed you on your feet and turned you around. You gagged, staring at the horrific site in front of you. It had to have been months judging by the level of decay, and this matched up with your previous information.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Sungchan snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you tightly to him, “the old, fake puppeteer is dead. Now, the hunters don’t need you to pull him out of the shadows.”

“Y-You’re the puppeteer now,” you choked out, squeezing your eyes shut. Yuta wasn’t being a dick- he was helping you.

“I had to throw the hunters off our scent-.”

“There is no- Sungchan what the fuck?” you broke from his grasp, terrified and searching the basement area for anything you could use to kill the monster in front of you. “You… you were a human-.”

“And bringing you to your new home awakened me fully!” he was so joyful as he said this, the dread consuming you.

“I was only with you so I could bring,” you glanced at the horrible sight of his slain father, “him down. I was going to kill you.”

“You don’t get it,” he whispered. He looked away, and for a moment you swore his dead eyes were going to shed tears before he met your gaze with a dead glare. “I have planned everything so I could have you. I stole my father’s empire, I had the head of the hunters controlled into giving you this fake assignment…”

As he paused, you decided to make a run towards the basement stairs. You were desperate, and that desperation had made you stupid. Sungchan caught you within an instant, one hand wrapped around your waist and the other squeezing your wrist with an iron grip.

“I didn’t want it to come down to this,” he pouted, “that friend of yours… I have it set that if you escape from me, she’ll burn down the hunters headquarters with herself inside.”

“Seulgi?” you whispered, eyes wide with terror.

“Don’t you get it, though? We are meant to be!” he was smiling as if he did not threaten your livelihood. “Ever since that day in the hotel when you told me no! You’re the only person in the world who did- and you’re a hunter! You are the Juliet to my Romeo!”

“They both die at the end you fucking idiot,” you replied through gritted teeth. 

He let go of your wrist, and instead gripped under your chin with his cold hand, “we’re going to have to work on how you speak to me my love.”

Then, you remembered him. The encounter was so brief and so small to you, and yet, it seemed to be absolutely defining for Sungchan to a point that you became his whole focus. Now, your knees trembled as your fate settled. 

You set your gaze down, submitting as he let go of your chin.

“See? This is good. I have your favorite foods, and everything you could ever need here,” he squeezed you to his chest, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to cry. “I know you hate cooking, so I have a team of chefs here just for you.”

“Not of their own will,” you bit, and you felt his grip on you tighten before he forced out a hearty laugh.

“These people are all dolls. Now that I’ve taken over my father’s empire…” his voice trailed off. “Nothing in this world matters except for us.”

_______

You snuck onto the rooftop one night. Sungchan had fallen asleep next to you, and you had managed to slip out. Despite the chill in the air, it was not nearly as cold as when you would be forced to be by his side. Before his vampiric powers awakened, he was still slightly colder, but now it was like being next to dry ice.

You needed to breathe.

You missed Seulgi. You hated seeing the glazed over eyes of the people Sungchan took from god knows where. You hated having to be around the monster of a man. 

You hated yourself, especially, for feeling so weak and succumbing to him.

You stared down at the plethora of bites lining your arms, and lifted a hand to touch the ones on your neck that were still fresh. You couldn’t even bring yourself to poke at the ones that lined your upper thighs. You choked back a sob, the wind of the night air rustling through your hair as you stared at the fresh blood Sungchan had managed to leave behind after feeding from you. 

You had let a monster inside of you, and the worst part was that you liked it. Sungchan was very clear about the fact that he had been studying you- everything about you. How you took your tea, how you liked to sleep curled up in a ball, and how to properly pleasure you. He had been studying you for years- knowing exactly how you seduced other vampires and how you would get yourself off. It was already an unfair advantage. This, coupled with the fact that being bitten by a vampire has the same effect on your brain as an orgasm, you were pretty much subdued physically as often as possible by him. And it felt fucking incredible- addictive, even. You hated yourself for being so weak. Weak to a point that you’d be begging for him to fuck you, just like he dreamed you would. Just like he hoped, you’d become his little doll. The shame was becoming unbearable.

You stared out at the surrounding area. In the darkness, all you could tell was that there was no city at all nearby, the light pollution nonexistent as you were able to see all the stars clearly. You were previously able to piece together that this residence used to be Sungchan’s father’s, but he had decided this was best for you. Maybe he was right, in a way. You felt like you were meant to die the night your parents did, so being here with Sungchan was a way to repair that broken strand of fate.

You heard footsteps and turned towards the door. It was one of the housekeepers Sungchan had around the property.

“Hello,” you stared blankly. This woman, like every other servant in the manor was instructed to not speak to you under any circumstances. She smiled awkwardly and within the blink of an eye, was in front of you. 

Instinctually, you went to the pocket of your jacket for your stake. Of course, though, there was nothing. You were unarmed, and physically at your weakest.

She knocked you down to your back, and began dragging you by your hair towards the edge of the roof. The height was only a few stories so it wouldn’t be enough to kill you, but certainly hurt you enough to make killing you quicker for her.

You were clawing at her hands, tears streaming down your cheeks as you fought for your life. You hadn’t made it this far with Sungchan only to be killed by someone else.

She shoved your head over the edge as a wicked grin formed on her face. You sent a swift kick to the back of her knees, causing her to let go of your hair. You stood up and ran towards the door only to then see Sungchan standing there, eyes bright red in anger. 

The woman let out a yelp of fear before you heard a sickening crunch. Sungchan had, without a drop of hesitation, lobbed the head off the vampire and was holding her by her scalp.

“I’ll have another servant pick this up.” he tossed her head off the side of the manor as if it was a crumpled piece of paper. He wrapped you in an embrace, the blood of the woman that landed on his chest now coating you.

“I don’t have anything to protect myself with,” you replied. You were desperate. Maybe, you thought, you could use his obsession with you to get him to give you a stake under the guise of self-preservation. Shit, even some vervain would be useful.

“You’re right…” he whispered, letting go of your embrace and holding you at an arm's length. He brushed the hair stuck to your face away, as you were still sniffling. His hand lowered to the bite marks on your throat. “I’ll make it so that you’re as strong as me.”

As strong as me.

“Sungchan no-!” you were struggling as Sungchan held you with one hand gripping the back of your neck. In the dim moonlight, you watched as his fangs pierced his wrist and exposed his blood.

“No, please!” You had hit a new low, begging for your life.

“I need you safe… and I need you by my side forever,” his voice was melodic as he shoved his wrist into your mouth. You were struggling as he jammed it in as deeply as possible, but you refused to swallow. In your struggle, you two had collapsed onto the ground. He had you fully pinned down, and seemed to relish the fear and disgust in your eyes as is his other hand moved to pinch your nose.

“You know you want to,” he purred, his lips now next to your ear. You were running out of air and the tears and snot were running down your face as you vigorously tried to shake your head no. “I know you love the power you feel when I bite you. When you get to boss the servants around. You’re mine. And now…”

You gulped, your eyes wide in horror as realization set in. His blood flowed down your throat, an ambrosial taste of iron now flooding your tongue and throat.

“Now… you’ll be your whole self with me. Forever.”

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Dollhouse 1.5–> read here

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