🫐synopsis: "heeseung's the bass player in a local band, and you're just one of the people in the crowd. being in college, you two practically never see each other, until both your worlds start to align. love is a powerful force and has funny ways of showing, but that's the fun of it right?"
character analysis: heeseung is stubborn. his friends are assholes, and by association you'd think he's exactly the same. but he isn't.. and he's determined to show you just how sweet he could be.
˙⋆✮a/n: if you are wanting to be added to the taglist for this series, then please comment! the quicker you comment, then faster I can get you added. <3
˙⋆✮fic type: social media, college au, opposites attract
˙⋆✮pairing: punk!heeseung x cool girl!reader
˙⋆✮side pairing: jake x yunjin
˙⋆✮warnings: explicit language, mature themes, smut, alcohol and drug usage.
🦇Synopsis: Hollow creek has always been a quiet, calm place. A place that has resisted danger since you were born. That is, until a new guy comes to town and suddenly the everything that was forcefully hidden in hollow creek is brought up from the past.
⊹ ࣪ ˖Character analysis: Peace.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ A/n: If you would like to be added to the taglist, please send an ask!
Epilogue: It’s Always Shining
Spring came slow that year.
The first sunlight after the red moon felt wrong at first — too clean, too soft for a world that had burned. But by the time the trees started to bloom again, the quiet felt like something earned.
The small town went back to pretending it was ordinary. The police blamed the forest fires on faulty power lines. The missing people became names whispered less and less. By summer, it was like none of it had happened.
But you remember.
All of you do.
The community college feels different now — quieter, calmer. Lia still walks you to class every morning, pretending she’s just only keeping you company, even though you know she’s really scanning for danger around you.
Sometimes you catch Heeseung waiting under the shade of the clocktower, always where the sunlight doesn’t hit too harshly. He still looks at Lia like she’s a secret worth guarding.
Kai’s back to herself— a little paler, but still herself. There’s something in her eyes that wasn’t there before, a kind of knowledge she doesn’t speak about since she’s a new vampire. You don’t ask. She doesn’t need to explain herself.
And Jake—
Jake’s learning how to live again.
He still doesn’t walk in daylight for long, but you’ve caught him trying. The first time he did, he stood in the doorway of your shared apartment, sunlight barely grazing his hand. You thought he might turn away — but he didn’t. He stood there until his skin warmed instead of burned.
He smiled after. A real, small, almost shy thing.
Now, some mornings, you find him at the kitchen counter, pretending to drink coffee while the light slips through the window and paints his face gold.
When he looks at you, it’s always the same — like he still can’t believe you’re real.
Nari left the town a week after the battle. She said there were other places that needed her more, other ghosts to calm. Before she disappeared, she pressed a small charm into your hand — a thin silver disc carved with ancient symbols.
“For protection,” she said, and smiled knowingly. “But maybe you won’t need it this time.”
You keep it on your nightstand anyway. Just in case.
One evening, you and Jake walk by the lake behind the college. The water is still, the air warm enough that the night hums with life. Fireflies flicker over the surface like sparks.
He doesn’t say much at first — he never does. But when he reaches for your hand, his fingers are warm.
“I used to think time stopped for people like me,” he says quietly. “That the only thing we could do was outlive everything we touched.”
You glance at him. “And now?”
He smiles faintly, eyes on the lake. “Now I think time finally started again.”
You lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “It started the moment you let it.”
The moon rises, soft and white this time — peaceful, not a threat.
You stay there until the night fades to silver. Jake’s hand never leaves yours.
Later, when you wake just before dawn, you find him sitting by the window, sketching something in the dim light. It’s the lake, the trees, the faint reflection of the moon.
When he notices you awake, he pauses, his expression softening. “Couldn’t sleep,” he murmurs.
You cross the room, sit beside him. “You don’t need to dream when you’ve got all this,” you tease lightly.
He laughs — low, quiet, and real. “Maybe I just like seeing it twice.”
You take the pencil from his hand, write two small words in the corner of the page: Morning comes.
Jake reads it, then looks at you, eyes warmer than the sun starting to rise behind him. “Yeah,” he says softly. “It finally does.”
And for the first time in a very long time, there’s nothing to run from.
Only the sound of birds waking, and the slow, steady heartbeat of a world still turning.
how the blood remembers | chapter thirty one : sjy series
🦇Synopsis: Hollow creek has always been a quiet, calm place. A place that has resisted danger since you were born. That is, until a new guy comes to town and suddenly the everything that was forcefully hidden in hollow creek is brought up from the past.
⊹ ࣪ ˖Character analysis: Everyone finally comes together to vanish what has been haunting Hollow Creek.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ A/n: If you would like to be added to the taglist, please send an ask!
Chapter Thirty One: Death Always Catches Up
The night tastes like iron and stormlight.
You run until your lungs burn, until the trees blur into streaks of gray and black. The mark on your wrist pulses with every heartbeat — hot, frantic, alive. The pull is magnetic, dragging you through the forest toward something ancient and wrong.
“Yn!”
Lia’s voice echoes behind you, faint and desperate, but you can’t stop. Not when every part of you is screaming that he’s in danger. That she’s already found him.
Branches claw at your coat, mud splattering up your legs. The mist thickens the farther you go, swallowing the world whole. Every few seconds, you see flashes — not your own memories, but hers.
A candlelit altar.
Jake’s lifeless body sprawled across it.
Blood dripping from Yani’s trembling hands.
Her whisper: “Forgive me. Please forgive me.”
You stumble, gripping a tree trunk as the vision fades, nausea clawing at your throat. She’s bleeding into you now — her grief, her rage, her unfinished love.
“Yn!”
Heeseung bursts through the fog, his eyes flashing amber. “You can’t just run off like that!”
“She’s with him,” you pant. “I can feel it— she’s pulling me to him.”
He looks at you like he already knows you’re right. Then, without another word, he tilts his head toward the distant hill where faint light flickers through the fog. “Then that’s where we go.”
Lia catches up, out of breath, her eyes glowing faintly. “Nari’s already setting up the circle. If we’re doing this, we do it now. Before the blood moon peaks.”
The words settle like lead in your stomach.
You nod. “Let’s end it.”
When you reach the clearing, the air is thick with ozone — the metallic tang of magic about to break. Nari is kneeling in the dirt, carving runes into the earth with salt and silver dust. Candles flicker in a wide circle around her, the flames bending toward the center as if drawn by invisible gravity.
Sunghoon and Sunoo stand watch at opposite ends of the glade, eyes scanning the mist, every muscle ready to spring. Heeseung shifts restlessly, claws flexing as Lia leans against him in her half-wolf form, eyes sharp, hair wild in the wind.
The red moon is rising, slow and merciless.
And Jake is nowhere in sight.
You step into the half-formed circle. The mark burns hotter now, crawling up your arm like vines of fire. “She’s close,” you whisper. “Too close.”
Nari glances up, her expression grim but focused. “Then she’s coming here. The circle will draw her in — it’s made from the same blood magic that binds you two. Once she steps into it, we can separate you.”
“Separate us?” you echo, voice trembling. “Without killing one of us?”
Nari’s silence is answer enough.
You swallow hard. “Do it anyway.”
Minutes pass like hours.
The woods are too still.
Every sound — every heartbeat — feels like it might be your last. You stare at the trees, waiting for the first sign of movement. The mark pulses again, and this time, you feel it in your ribs, like a heartbeat that doesn’t belong to you.
Then the wind shifts.
The scent of blood.
The whisper of a name.
Jake.
You spin toward the treeline, and he steps through the mist — his shirt torn, eyes burning gold. He’s still breathing, still standing, but there’s something fractured in him now. His aura hums like broken electricity.
“She found me,” he says quietly.
And then the mist behind him stirs.
A shape follows.
Yani.
She emerges like a shadow peeling off the night — hair floating around her, eyes glowing faintly crimson. She doesn’t move like the living or the dead; she moves like something caught between.
Lia bares her teeth. “Everyone, hold the line.”
Jake’s gaze flicks to you. “She’s not coming for me this time. She’s coming for you.”
The air thickens, heat pressing against your skin.
Yani’s voice slides through the clearing, soft as silk, cold as bone.
“You can’t cage what was never meant to die.”
Her power crackles in the air — dark, beautiful, and terrifying. The circle’s candles flare violently as Nari begins to chant, her words ancient and rhythmic.
The earth shudders beneath your feet.
The fight hasn’t started yet, but you can feel it — the weight of centuries, the ache of something unfinished. You catch Jake’s eyes through the shimmer of magic, and for the first time, he looks afraid. Not of dying, but of losing everything again.
“Whatever happens,” he says softly, “don’t let her win.”
You nod once.
Then the first drop of rain hits the ground — hissing where it lands.
The red moon climbs higher.
The forest holds its breath.
Mist coils around the trees, thick and ghostly, the red moon pulsing like a wound in the sky. The salt circle glows faintly at your feet — runes carved by Nari, each symbol humming with power. The ground vibrates beneath the ritual’s weight, the air heavy with ozone and magic.
Everyone stands ready.
Sunghoon and Sunoo at the perimeter, eyes sharp and glowing.
Lia and Heeseung crouched in their wolf forms, fur bristling as they pace, low growls cutting through the silence.
Jake stands in front of you, coat torn, blood dried along his collar. His eyes flicker gold and crimson — the line between man and monster blurring under the moonlight.
And you — you stand in the center of the circle, palms open, heart hammering. The mark on your wrist burns like a brand.
Nari lights the final candle. “Once the moon peaks,” she whispers, “we start. There’s no stopping it then.”
You nod, even though your throat feels tight.
You can already feel her.
The air drops cold.
Shadows bend and pull together, forming a shape that shouldn’t exist — until it does.
Yani steps out of the darkness.
Her hair drifts around her like smoke, her eyes bottomless, ancient sorrow burning in their depths. She looks just like she did in your visions — alive and dead all at once.
Her voice slides through the mist.
“Did you think love could forget me, Jake?”
Jake steps forward, sword drawn but voice steady. “Yani. You were never forgotten. But this isn’t love anymore.”
She tilts her head, smiling faintly. “No… it’s something else now.” Her gaze snaps to you, sharp and unyielding. “She carries my mark. She’s mine.”
The symbol beneath you flares, searing hot. Pain arcs up your arm. You choke back a cry, collapsing to one knee.
Jake is there instantly, gripping your shoulders. His voice is calm, but his hands tremble.
“Yn. Look at me. You can fight her. You’ve seen who she was.”
You meet his eyes — steady, determined, broken. “She’s still in pain, Jake.”
“I know.” His thumb brushes your jaw, soft and fleeting. “But pain isn’t life.”
A wind howls through the trees, scattering leaves.
Nari’s voice rises above it. “The moon is full!”
She begins the incantation.
The air cracks like thunder.
Yani screams — a sound that rattles the earth. From the shadows behind her, figures emerge. Vampires. Dozens of them. Eyes glowing red, fangs bared.
“Keep them out of the circle!” Jake shouts.
Sunghoon and Sunoo dart forward, moving as blurs of speed and steel. Lia and Heeseung charge next, colliding with the first wave of attackers in a snarl of fur and blood. The forest explodes into chaos — claws against bone, the hiss of spells burning through mist.
Nari’s chant deepens. The circle flares brighter, but the ground shakes violently as Yani’s power lashes out, splitting the air.
Jake pushes you behind him, blocking a blast that would have turned you to ash. His body slams into the dirt, smoke curling from his skin.
You scream his name. He’s up again in a second, impossibly fast, eyes glowing.
“Keep going!” he yells. “Finish it!”
Yani floats closer, her feet never touching the ground. The light of the moon bends around her like she owns it.
“You made me this,” she hisses.
Jake steadies his sword, his voice shaking but clear. “No. I failed to save you. That’s not the same.”
Her eyes flash. “Then why her?”
He hesitates — just long enough for truth to find him. “Because I learned what love means from losing you.”
The forest seems to shudder with the weight of it.
For a heartbeat, Yani falters. Her expression softens — grief flickering through rage. “I loved you, Jake.”
“I know.” His voice breaks. “And I never stopped.”
The wind dies.
Then the world explodes.
Yani screams, her magic erupting in waves of black fire. The ground splits. Nari is thrown backward, the salt circle shattered. Wolves howl in pain. Vampires vanish in bursts of dust and shadow.
You’re thrown into the dirt — the mark on your wrist blazing white-hot.
The tether between you and Yani pulls taut, glowing like a chain made of light and memory. You feel her inside your chest — the grief, the anger, the regret.
You reach out through it.
“Yani,” you whisper, voice not entirely your own. “It’s time.”
The air stills.
Everything fades to white.
You open your eyes — but you’re no longer in the forest.
You’re standing by a lake. The water glows silver under the moon, gentle ripples brushing the shore. A woman sits at the edge, her hair catching the light.
Yani.
You watch as Jake walks toward her, armor clanking softly with each step. He looks alive again — sun-warmed and human. The way he looks at her makes your chest ache.
She turns and smiles. “I could hear you from a mile away.”
He laughs quietly. “Good. Then you’ll always know when I’m near.”
They sit together, silence stretching like peace itself.
Yani reaches for his hand. “It wasn’t supposed to end that way.”
“I know,” he says, voice low. “You were trying to save me.”
She looks down at their joined hands. “I wanted to give you life. Not take yours.”
Jake shakes his head, eyes soft. “You gave me more than life. You gave me purpose. Even when I forgot how to live it.”
Yani smiles faintly. “And her? Yn?”
“She reminds me what it feels like to hope again.”
There’s no anger in her face now — just peace. “Then hope for me too.”
He nods. “Always.”
A light begins to bloom around her — soft gold, warm and infinite. She exhales, closing her eyes as the lake ripples. Her body dissolves into light, scattering across the water like dawn breaking over the world.
Jake stays a moment longer, whispering something you can’t quite hear. Then he turns, walks into the sunlight, and fades too — no longer cursed, no longer haunted.
You gasp, blinking back to the forest.
The red moon is gone. Only silver remains.
Yani’s spirit stands in front of you — transparent, calm.
“He buried me,” she whispers. “But you freed me.”
You nod, tears stinging your eyes. “You can rest now.”
She smiles one last time. “So can he.”
And then she’s gone — dissolving into the mist, leaving behind only stillness.
The forest exhales. The world steadies. The curse is gone.
Jake kneels beside you, his hand finding yours. His skin is warm — truly warm — for the first time since you’ve known him.
“It’s over,” you whisper.
He nods, pressing his forehead to yours. “Because of you.”
You lift your wrist — the mark now just a faint scar. “No more ghosts.”
He laughs softly, shaking his head. “You freed us both.”
Around you, the others gather. Nari wipes the blood from her nose; Lia leans against Heeseung, still half-shifted. Sunghoon and Sunoo exchange a silent, weary nod. The air hums with the scent of rain — the kind that feels like renewal.
Jake looks at you, sunlight starting to break through the trees behind him. His voice is quiet. “You shouldn’t love me. You know that.”
You smile faintly, brushing dirt from his cheek. “And yet, here we are.”
He exhales, something old and heavy finally falling away. When he kisses you, it’s soft — no urgency, no curse, just breath and warmth and life.
When you pull apart, dawn has broken.
Nari glances up at the rising sun. “She’s at rest,” she murmurs. “For good.”
Jake helps you to your feet.
You look toward the horizon, light flooding through the trees.
“So what now?” you ask.
He watches the sunrise, gold spilling across his face — the face of a man finally free.
“Now,” he says softly, “we live.”
You take his hand.
And together, you step into the light.
how the blood remembers | chapter thirty : sjy series
🦇Synopsis: Hollow creek has always been a quiet, calm place. A place that has resisted danger since you were born. That is, until a new guy comes to town and suddenly the everything that was forcefully hidden in hollow creek is brought up from the past.
⊹ ࣪ ˖Character analysis: Jake goes to meet what he's been avoiding. Little does he know that what he's been avoiding has been waiting for him all this time.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ A/n: If you would like to be added to the taglist, please send an ask!
Chapter Thirty: To Fix What Was Once Broken
You wake to the sound of glass breaking.
Lia’s by your side in a second, but you can barely breathe. The pain’s sharp and deep, spreading through your chest like fire. The mark’s crawling up your arm now, inking over your veins like shadow.
“She’s awake,” you gasp, clutching the sheets. “She’s— she’s inside me.”
Lia grabs your shoulders. “Who?”
You don’t know how you know her name, but it slips out like it’s been waiting there all along.
“Yani.”
The lights flicker. The air thickens. For a moment, it feels like someone else is standing in the room — someone watching through your eyes.
You stumble to your feet, gripping the table to steady yourself. “She’s looking for him.”
Heeseung moves closer, trying to put distance between you and Lia. Protective over her. “Jake?”
You nod. “She’s the one who marked me.”
Lia swears under her breath. “Then we need to find him before she does.”
But deep down, you know it’s already too late.
The bond pulses once, twice — and then you feel it. Jake’s fear. His pain. His grief.
And her voice, whispering through your veins.
He was mine first.
You grab your coat, ignoring the way the world tilts. “I can find him.”
Lia looks at you like she knows she can’t stop you this time. She just nods once and steps aside.
The air outside is thick with fog again. The same kind that always comes before something terrible.
But you walk straight into it — following the pull in your blood, the bond that connects you to both of them now.
(Jake’s POV)
He’s still on his knees when the mark stops burning.
He can feel you moving toward him — your pulse, your heartbeat, the way your fear tastes in the air.
And over it all, Yani’s voice.
You shouldn’t have buried me, Jake.
He looks up at the ruins, the candles now extinguished, the scent of her lingering. “You should’ve stayed dead.”
how the blood remembers | chapter twenty nine : sjy series
🦇Synopsis: Hollow creek has always been a quiet, calm place. A place that has resisted danger since you were born. That is, until a new guy comes to town and suddenly the everything that was forcefully hidden in hollow creek is brought up from the past.
⊹ ࣪ ˖Character analysis: Things are happening one by one and you wondering if you can keep up with all the paranormal activity around you, or if it is going to swallow you whole.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ A/n: If you would like to be added to the taglist, please send an ask!
Chapter Twenty Nine: The Woman Who Never Died
(Jake’s POV)
The rain has turned to mist by the time he reaches the nearby ruins.
They stand at the edge of the valley — black stone swallowed by ivy, carved with words no one remembers how to speak.
Jake can feel her before he hears her. The energy had been all stimming from this one place.
The air changes, temperature dropping, the smell of jasmine and old blood crawling through the fog.
He’s been running toward this feeling for centuries — and away from it just as long.
He pushes the door open. It groans against its hinges like it’s exhaling after centuries of silence.
Inside, candles flicker to life one by one, without touch. Shadows move against the walls, too tall and too still to be human.
And then—
“Jake.”
The voice freezes him. Soft. Familiar. Impossible.
He turns slowly.
She stands at the end of the room — tan, perfect, untouched by time.
Yani.
Her eyes are the same color they were the night she died — molten gold, catching the firelight like a promise.
But her smile isn’t the same.
“I hoped it would be you,” she says.
Jake’s jaw tightens. “You’re dead.”
“I was,” she replies, stepping closer, the sound of her bare feet echoing against stone. “You buried me yourself.”
He remembers — the blood, the cold, the taste of his own grief when he turned her to save her and she turned to ash anyway.
“Then how—”
Her laugh cuts through the air like glass. “You didn’t finish it. You thought your mercy would keep me human. It didn’t. It just made me something else.”
He stares at her, every instinct screaming to move, to run, but he can’t. The sight of her feels like drowning in memory.
Yani tilts her head. “You found another, didn’t you?”
He doesn’t answer.
Her smile fades. “I can feel her in you. The bond. The mark.”
Jake takes a step back. “What did you do to her?”
Yani’s expression softens, and somehow that’s worse. “What I always meant to do to you. I tied your soul to hers. You wanted eternity? Now you’ll watch her die the way I did — because of you.”
Jake’s voice breaks. “You marked her.”
“I created her,” Yani whispers, eyes burning with something between love and fury. “She’s what you made me. The balance. The curse.”
She lifts her hand, and the ground trembles. Blood seeps through the cracks in the floor, rising in thin streams of red light. “Do you still dream of me, Jake?”
He forces himself to look her in the eye. “Every night.”
She smiles faintly. “Good.”
Then she’s gone — vanished into the mist, leaving the ruins trembling and the mark on his wrist burning white-hot.
Jake collapses to his knees, clutching his arm. Through the pain, he sees flashes — you, miles away, waking with a scream as the black on your mark spreads to your shoulder.He knows what it means.
Yani isn’t just back.
She’s using you to finish what she started centuries ago.
how the blood remembers | chapter twenty eight : sjy series
🦇Synopsis: Hollow creek has always been a quiet, calm place. A place that has resisted danger since you were born. That is, until a new guy comes to town and suddenly the everything that was forcefully hidden in hollow creek is brought up from the past.
⊹ ࣪ ˖Character analysis: Things are happening one by one and you wondering if you can keep up with all the paranormal activity around you, or if it is going to swallow you whole.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ A/n: If you would like to be added to the taglist, please send an ask!
Chapter Twenty Eight: The Dream That Wasn’t a Dream
It’s late when you catch yourself drifting off to sleep. Your eyes become heavy and it’s hard to pick them back up. You slowly succumb fully when you see another vision, even though it had been awhile.
You’re standing in a courtyard you don’t recognize. The air smells like old roses and blood. The moon hangs low and heavy, painting everything in white fire.
You hear laughter. Soft, rich, and achingly familiar.
When you turn, you see a woman standing.
She looks oddly familiar, until you see it, the shadow that had always been a step behind.
But she’s not the shadow you’ve seen in glimpses — at least not yet. She’s alive, radiant. Her skin tan, dark bouncy curls adoring her head. Her eyes burn with the same warmth Jake’s used to.
Her hand is laced with his.
Jake looks younger. Human. His hair is shorter, his skin still flush with life. The way he looks at her makes your chest tighten — devotion, pure and unguarded.
He’s wearing armor, clearly a soldier, like he had told you before. But what you didn’t realise was that he was her soldier. Her guardian.
They’re talking in low voices, walking through the courtyard like they have forever ahead of them. When she reaches up to touch his face, you immediately notice the same mark on her hand that you yourself have.
Everything pieces together in your mind.
The dream shifts — time slipping forward like a heartbeat skipped.
The moon bleeds red.
You see Yani kneeling before a circle carved into the ground — symbols that glow faintly with blood. Around her stand seven figures cloaked in shadow, their eyes burning like dying stars.
The air twists, cold and hungry.
You feel it — the curse.
Yani’s voice trembles, but her resolve doesn’t. “You’ll give him life. That was our agreement.”
A woman among the shadows laughs — low and cruel. “We’ll give him eternity. What happens after isn’t our concern.”
Yani freezes. “That wasn’t the deal.”
“Deals change,” another hisses. “You offered your power. We’ll take it.”
You feel the surge of her magic as she raises her hands, golden light spilling from her palms. It’s strong — painfully beautiful — but the curse coils tighter, drinking her strength, corrupting it. The circle hums, the air shaking like something alive.
“Stop!” she gasps, voice breaking. “You don’t understand what you’re creating!”
But they do. And they’re smiling.
Then the scene shifts — fast and violent. Screams echo. The scent of iron floods the air.
The courtyard is burning.
Yani is on her knees, surrounded by men with crimson eyes. Vampires. On the ground, they have drawn a pentagon, surrounding the same sign you had been seeing, the same symbol on your hand. Yani being conveniently placed in the middle.
Jake is fighting them — or trying to. You can see how fast he moves, but he’s still human; they’re not. One of them grabs him by the throat, drags him into the shadows.
Yani’s voice breaks through the chaos.
“Let him go! He’s not part of this!”
But they don’t listen. They sink their teeth into him — and his scream shreds the night.
Something inside her breaks. She lunges forward, clawing and sobbing until one of the vampires slams her against the ground.
Then the scene fractures again — a blur of blood and moonlight.
Jake rises.
But his eyes are no longer human.
They burn red.
He looks at the bodies around him — the ones he’s torn apart — and then at Yani, trembling in the dirt.
“Jake?” she whispers.
He flinches. Steps back. “Don’t come near me.”
But slowly she does. She cups his face, fingers trembling. “You’re still you. You can fight it.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t understand what I’ve done.”
Her tears glitter in the firelight. “Then let me bear it with you.”
He closes his eyes — and kisses her like he’s already mourning her.
And then—
The light changes. She’s bleeding. You don’t see how; only that his arms are around her, and her breath is slipping away.
Her blood stains his shirt, his hands, his soul.
“Stay,” he begs. “Please, Yani, stay with me.”
Her eyes flutter open one last time.
“Then promise me…” she whispers, voice breaking. “That you’re only mine. For forever.”
And then she’s gone.
You see Jake dig the grave himself. His movements are mechanical, silent. He lowers her body into the earth and covers her with trembling hands.
He kneels there until dawn, whispering her name over and over.
But as the sun rises, a shadow curls through the air — a thin, black wisp that slips from the ground like smoke.
Yani’s spirit doesn’t rest.
It lingers — watching him walk away, rage and heartbreak twisting her into something dark.
“Promise me,” she echoes faintly. “Promise me…”
You bolt upright in bed, gasping. Your skin is cold, damp with sweat.
Jake is already there — sitting at the edge of your bed like he’d known. His eyes flick to your wrist, where the mark is flaring wild and bright.
“You saw her,” he says quietly.
You nod, still trembling. “I saw everything.”
He looks down. “Then you know why she hates me. Why she won’t stop.”
“She loved you,” you whisper. “She died loving you.”
Jake’s throat works, but no words come out.
You reach for his hand. “And now you’re trying to take that promise back.”
His gaze finally meets yours — raw, aching, a little afraid. “If I could take it all back—”
“You can’t,” you cut in gently. “But you can finish it.”
The mark burns once more — but this time, it doesn’t hurt. It feels alive.
The world hums faintly outside, a warning. The red moon is almost here.Jake squeezes your hand, voice barely above a whisper.
“Then we end this — together.”
how the blood remembers | chapter twenty seven : sjy series
🦇Synopsis: Hollow creek has always been a quiet, calm place. A place that has resisted danger since you were born. That is, until a new guy comes to town and suddenly the everything that was forcefully hidden in hollow creek is brought up from the past.
⊹ ࣪ ˖Character analysis: Things are happening one by one and you wondering if you can keep up with all the paranormal activity around you, or if it is going to swallow you whole.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ A/n: If you would like to be added to the taglist, please send an ask!
Chapter Twenty Seven: The Pull of Blood and Shadow
Sleep doesn’t come anymore.
When you close your eyes, you see threads — red, silver, black — twisting through the air, connecting everything and everyone like veins in some enormous, unseen heart. You can’t tell if you’re losing your mind or learning to see the truth.
It started after Jake touched the mark. After he whispered your name like he’d known it before you were born.
Now you feel everything.
The ache in his chest even when he’s miles away.
Lia’s pulse when she’s angry.
And— faintly—Kai.
You press your palm against the wall, closing your eyes. The mark hums beneath your skin. Show me.
For a second, nothing. Then the air shifts, and you see her.
She’s sitting in a parking lot behind the old gym, rain soaking her hair, her eyes glassy and wrong. Niki’s blood runs down her throat like ink, her skin pale and trembling. She’s whispering something to herself — something that makes your stomach twist.
“He promised I’d feel nothing.”
You grab your coat, ignoring Lia’s protest. “She’s still in there.”
Heeseung steps forward, brows furrowed. “Yn, you can’t just—”
But Lia holds him back, eyes fixed on you. “She’s not going to stop,” she says quietly. “You can feel it too, can’t you?”
You nod once. “She’s close.”
The world feels different when you step outside. Colors sharper, sounds louder. The rain hums against the streetlights like static, and the pull of the mark tugs you forward like a compass.
When you find her, Kai’s shaking — halfway between herself and something else.
“Kai,” you whisper, kneeling beside her.
Her eyes snap open. For a heartbeat, they’re completely black.
“Yn?” she rasps. “He said it would stop hurting.”
You swallow the lump in your throat. “He lied.”
She tries to move away, but you grab her wrist. The mark on your skin flares — not red this time, but silver-white, spilling light between you like water.
Kai gasps. “What— what are you doing?”
You don’t know how to explain it. You just know you can see the infection inside her — Niki’s blood like a dark web under her skin. You reach for it, not with your hands, but with something deeper. Something the mark gave you.
“Stay still,” you whisper.
Pain lashes through you. The bond burns hot, pulling something from you and pouring it into her. Your vision blurs, and the world goes quiet except for the sound of her heartbeat syncing with yours.
Then —
A scream.
Light.
Silence.
When you open your eyes, Kai’s collapsed against your shoulder, breathing — still a vampire, but herself again.
But your mark is no longer glowing silver.
It’s black.
(Jake’s POV)
He feels it the moment it happens.
The pain hits like lightning, tearing through his chest. He drops to his knees in the middle of the forest, his coat soaked through, blood seeping from his nose.
He doesn’t have to look to know it’s her.
“Yn,” he whispers.
Sunghoon’s voice cuts through the storm. “You felt it too?”
Jake wipes the blood from his face, staggering to his feet. “She used the bond.”
Sunoo steps out from the trees, frowning. “That’s impossible. No mortal could channel that much power.”
Jake shakes his head, jaw tight. “She’s not just mortal anymore.”
He pulls a small, worn locket from his pocket — the one he hasn’t touched in centuries. Inside is a faded piece of parchment, written in Hangul, the ink nearly gone. “When the bond darkens, death follows.”
He remembers the first time he saw that mark — not on Yn, but on another woman, hundreds of years ago. The one he couldn’t save. The one whose death turned him into the monster he’s spent his life trying not to be.
“I won’t lose her,” he mutters.
Sunghoon frowns. “If the mark’s blackened, the caster has already begun to reclaim it. You can’t fight that, Jake.”
“I’ll find her,” Jake snaps. “Before she kills her.”
He doesn’t wait for an answer. He disappears into the night, rain slicing across his path.
You wake up hours later in your room. The rain’s stopped, but everything feels wrong.
Lia’s there, her hands hovering over you, eyes glowing faintly gold. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she says quietly. “That power—it’s not just yours.”
“I couldn’t let her continue to be controlled. She’s already turned now. What else could I have done?”
For a moment there is complete silence.
Heeseung stands near the window, arms crossed. “You might’ve just invited something worse.”
You sit up slowly, your vision swimming. “Jake’s going after whoever did this.”
Lia hesitates. “And if he doesn’t come back?”
You glance down at the mark. It’s still black — but underneath, faint streaks of silver pulse weakly, like a dying star.
“Then I’ll go after him,” you whisper.
For a moment, no one speaks. Then Lia nods once, like she’s already decided she’ll follow you. Heeseung might not agree, but he’ll do anything to protect Lia, so you know he’s helping.
Outside, dawn breaks over the trees — pale and sharp as a blade.
And far away, in the ruins of an old temple, Jake kneels before a door carved with ancient symbols.
The air smells like ash.
And waiting behind it — something stirs.
how the blood remembers | chapter twenty six : sjy series
🦇Synopsis: Hollow creek has always been a quiet, calm place. A place that has resisted danger since you were born. That is, until a new guy comes to town and suddenly the everything that was forcefully hidden in hollow creek is brought up from the past.
⊹ ࣪ ˖Character analysis: Things are happening one by one and you wondering if you can keep up with all the paranormal activity around you, or if it is going to swallow you whole.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ A/n: If you would like to be added to the taglist, please send an ask!
Chapter Twenty Six: Ash in the Morning Light
Morning feels wrong.
The town is too quiet. The sunlight that usually cuts through your blinds looks pale, like it’s filtering through smoke.
You wake with a start — your wrist burning faintly. The mark hasn’t flared like this since the courtyard fight.
Lia bursts into your room before you can move, her hair curly against her dark complexion, eyes wild. “You felt it too, didn’t you?”
You nod, pulling the sleeve back. The faint scar glows beneath your skin like an ember. “It hasn’t stopped since last night.”
Lia presses a hand to your arm. You can feel her tremble — not fear, but instinct. “It’s whatever made the curse, whoever Jake won’t name,” she murmurs. “Something about that energy… it’s not normal vampire magic.”
You frown. “You mean—?”
Lia cuts you off, shaking her head. “Don’t say it yet. Not until we’re sure.”
Before you can respond, the door opens again. Jake stands there, shadows clinging to him like a second skin. He looks like he hasn’t slept — not that he really does. Behind him, Sunghoon and Sunoo linger quietly, unreadable.
Jake’s gaze drops to your wrist, and his jaw tightens. “It’s spreading.”
You glance down — and he’s right. The faint scar isn’t just glowing anymore; it’s starting to branch outward, thin veins of silver crawling toward your palm.
“What’s happening?” you whisper.
“It means she’s close,” Jake says softly. “Her magic’s bleeding through the tether.”
Sunghoon steps forward, expression grave. “If that’s true, we’re running out of time. We can’t break it alone.”
Lia crosses her arms. “Then who can?”
Jake hesitates, as if saying the name itself will cost him something.
“There’s one person who might help,” he finally says. “A witch named Nari.”
Sunoo’s brow lifts. “You’re going to call her?”
Jake doesn’t look away from you. “She owes me.”
Lia’s eyes narrow. “For what?”
“Keeping her alive,” Jake says simply.
The words hang there — heavy, unfinished.
The road out of town winds through forest and fog. Jake drives, eyes fixed ahead, the sunlight painting gold over his cheekbones. He looks almost human like this — almost.
You watch the way his hands tighten on the wheel. “You don’t trust this Nari, do you?”
“I trust her power,” Jake says. “Not her motives.”
Lia glances up from the back seat. “So… a typical witch.”
Sunoo chuckles under his breath. “She used to run with the Council. Before she decided they were too tame.”
“She’s unpredictable,” Jake admits. “But she’s the only one who kept history of old witches, witches that used to fight against Yani and lived.”
You freeze. The name cuts through the car like ice.
“Yani?” you ask quietly. “Who is she? You never really explained that?”
Jake’s expression hardens, and for a moment you think he won’t answer. Then, softly:
“She was my past. And she’s the reason this mark exists.”
You don’t push. Not yet. But you can feel Lia’s eyes on you in the mirror — a silent warning.
Nari’s cottage sits deep in the forest — part ruin, part temple, draped in charms that hum when you step near them. The air feels dense, alive.
She appears at the doorway before anyone knocks — tall, sharp-eyed, her hair streaked with pink highlights. Her presence makes the air tilt, the way power always does.
“Jake,” she says, smiling faintly. “I told you I’d see you again when the dead came calling.”
Jake’s jaw tightens. “They already have.”
Nari’s gaze drifts to you. The smile fades. “Ah. So she found her tether.”
You step closer despite the chill running down your spine. “You know what this is?”
“I know who made it,” Nari replies. “And I know what she wants.”
She circles you slowly, studying the glow under your skin. “Yani bound her essence through you to him. It’s how she’ll rise again — through your blood and his memory.”
Lia bristles. “Then how do we stop it?”
Nari looks up, eyes gleaming. “You can't stop it. You redirect it.”
Jake’s voice is low. “Tell us how.”
The witch smiles faintly. “You’ll need more than courage for that. You’ll need a circle strong enough to outlast her rage. Vampire, witch, and wolf bound together.”
Her gaze shifts between you, Jake, and Lia. “Which means all of you.”
The air hums — quiet, dangerous, full of meaning.
Nari turns back toward the forest. “Meet me when the moon turns red,” she says softly. “That’s when the tether will burn brightest — and when she’ll try to take her body back.”
Then she disappears into the mist, leaving behind only the echo of her words and the faint scent of magic in the air.
The car is silent for a long time. The world feels heavier now, like every shadow hides a pulse.
Finally, Jake speaks. “If she’s right, we have three nights.”
You glance at him. “Can we really do it?”
Jake doesn’t look away from the road. “We’ll have to.”
You stare out the window, the trees flashing by. Somewhere deep in the forest, the mark throbs once more — like a heart calling to another.
And for the first time, you realize:
Breaking the tether might not just save you.
It might destroy everything Jake still is.
how the blood remembers | chapter twenty five : sjy series
🦇Synopsis: Hollow creek has always been a quiet, calm place. A place that has resisted danger since you were born. That is, until a new guy comes to town and suddenly the everything that was forcefully hidden in hollow creek is brought up from the past.
⊹ ࣪ ˖Character analysis: Things are happening one by one and you wondering if you can keep up with all the paranormal activity around you, or if it is going to swallow you whole.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ A/n: If you would like to be added to the taglist, please send an ask!
Chapter Twenty Five: The Blood Between
The storm is louder now.
The kind of rain that swallows the city, drowns sound, and makes the world feel smaller — like everything’s pressing in at once.
Jake’s pacing. He hasn’t stopped since you felt the mark flare earlier. His gloves are off, fingers twitching restlessly. He looks like he wants to destroy something. Or someone.
You sit at the table, clutching a towel around your wrist, but the skin beneath still burns faintly — pulsing like it’s alive.
“It won’t stop,” you whisper.
Jake’s head snaps up. “Let me see.”
You hesitate, but he’s already there — kneeling beside you, his hand brushing over yours before you can pull away. His touch is cold, steady, but there’s something trembling underneath. When he pushes the fabric back, the mark is glowing again, faintly silver this time instead of red.
His expression darkens. “It’s feeding on your blood.”
Lia looks up sharply from where she’s sitting with Heeseung. “Feeding?”
Jake doesn’t look away from your wrist. “Whoever bound it to her used vampire blood to forge it. That’s why it reacts to me — it’s a tether. It’s pulling energy from both of us.”
You pull your hand back. “You mean— I’m connected to you?”
He looks at you, and for once, there’s no teasing. No smug amusement. Just raw, haunted truth.
“You always have been.”
The room goes still. Lia glances between you, then to Heeseung, her eyes wary.
“That kind of bond doesn’t just happen,” she says. “It’s deliberate.”
Jake exhales through his teeth. “It’s a brand meant for possession. To control. Not… this.”
You swallow. “Can it be removed?”
For a long moment, he doesn’t answer. Then his voice drops — low, rough.
“I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”
Hours later, the rain still hasn’t stopped.
Jake’s been scouring old books that look like they should’ve turned to dust centuries ago. Lia’s quiet, curled up on the couch with Heeseung, who keeps glancing at the window like he expects something to come through it.
You stand near the mirror in the hall, staring at the faint shimmer under your skin. The mark’s glow has dimmed but hasn’t disappeared. You can feel it — humming beneath your pulse, aching like a bruise.
Then you hear Jake’s voice, low and frustrated, from the other room.
“There’s only one mention of a mark like this,” he mutters, flipping a page. “An old Joseon ritual — vampire binding through blood debt. It links a mortal to the one who saved them from death.”
You freeze. “Saved them?”
Jake looks up. His eyes meet yours — dark, unreadable.
“That night,” he says quietly. “The woods. You would’ve died.”
You remember flashes — the woods the night you first saw Jake, the strange figure, blood, fear, the emotions that you felt as you escaped being killed. You figuring out Jake was a vampire that night.
He breaks you free from your thoughts, continuing his conversation, “I didn’t mean for it to bind,” he says, his voice breaking around the edges. “It was supposed to heal you. But my blood— it must’ve…”
“Changed me?” you whisper.
He stands abruptly, crossing the space between you in a heartbeat. “I’m going to fix it.”
His tone is fierce, desperate. You can feel the tension radiating from him — the way he’s fighting something inside himself. His eyes don’t leave yours though, promising you with his gaze.
“Jake—”
He stops inches away. His voice is low.
“You don’t understand what it’s doing to me, Yn.”
Your breath catches.
“When your mark burns,” he says, “I feel it. Every pulse. Every breath. It’s in my chest, under my skin. It’s not just a bond — it’s feeding on me too.”
His hand rises, stopping just shy of your cheek. “I can’t touch you without it reacting. I can’t be near you without wanting—”
He cuts himself off, jaw clenching, eyes dark with restraint.
You whisper, “Then why stay?”
He lets out a quiet, bitter laugh. “Because I’d rather burn with you than watch you disappear.”
The air between you trembles — alive with the energy of something ancient and wrong and beautiful.
Then Lia’s voice cuts through it like lightning.
“I found something.”
You both turn.
She’s holding an old, water-stained page, the ink barely legible. “It says the bond can be broken — but only if the one who cast it reverses it themselves.”
Heeseung frowns. “Which means?”
Jake’s eyes narrow. “The one who created the ritual mark… still exists.”
Lia nods grimly. “And given how strong it is — it’s not human.”
The room falls silent again.
Outside, thunder cracks.
Jake’s hand finds the back of your chair, his knuckles white.
“I know who to find,” he says. “And I’ll make them undo it. Even if it kills me.”
The mark on your wrist flares in answer — silver light searing across your skin like it heard him, like it wants him to try.
You flinch, but Jake doesn’t move away this time.
He catches your hand, pressing his palm against the glow, and the room floods with cold light.
For a second, you see something in his eyes — memory, grief, devotion. The centuries between you both collapse into one unbearable truth.
He whispers your name like a promise.
And for the first time, you realize the mark isn’t just a curse.
how the blood remembers | chapter twenty four : sjy series
🦇Synopsis: Hollow creek has always been a quiet, calm place. A place that has resisted danger since you were born. That is, until a new guy comes to town and suddenly the everything that was forcefully hidden in hollow creek is brought up from the past.
⊹ ࣪ ˖Character analysis: You and your friends are left to figure out what exactly is going on. One thing is for sure, you are being affected in a way vastly different than the supernatural surrounding you.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ A/n: If you would like to be added to the taglist, please send an ask!
Chapter Twenty Four: Between Fang and Fang
The storm hasn’t stopped.
Rain still whispers against the glass, soft but relentless. The air feels tight, charged — like the sky knows what’s coming.
Lia hasn’t said much since Jake declared the hunt. She’s sitting by the window, hood pulled up, eyes lost somewhere between fear and instinct.
Jake stands near the door, coat buttoned, watching the dark like it’s something he’s memorized. You can feel the quiet tension radiating off both of them — two predators pretending to be calm.
You clear your throat. “You both keep acting like this is normal.”
Jake doesn’t turn. “It is.”
Lia scoffs softly. “For him.”
You glance at her. “And for you?”
Her amber eyes flick toward you, catching the light like molten gold. “I’m trying not to remember what normal used to mean.”
There’s something in her tone that makes you pause. Before you can ask, Jake stiffens. His head turns sharply toward the window.
“They’re not alone,” he says. “The wolves are moving.”
Lia goes completely still.
“Don’t,” she warns quietly.
Jake’s gaze sharpens. “So it’s true.”
“What’s true?” you ask.
Lia exhales slowly, her jaw clenching. Then she stands. “That I’m not just a girl who gets weird when the moon’s full.”
The words hang heavy between you all.
Jake tilts his head, faint amusement flickering behind his eyes. “You hid that well.”
“I had to.” Lia’s voice hardens. “I left the pack when I came here. I didn’t want this life anymore.”
“You can’t leave what you are,” he says.
Her lips curve — not in a smile, but something bitter. “Tell me about it, vampire.”
Before you can react, there’s a knock at the window.
Three quick taps.
Soft. Familiar.
Lia’s entire body goes rigid. She moves to the glass like she’s being pulled. When she opens it, rain rushes in — and standing on the fire escape is a man with dark hair dripping down his face, eyes glowing faintly silver.
He looks straight at her.
“Lia,” he says quietly, voice rough and steady, “we need to talk.”
Jake’s stance shifts immediately — predatory, protective. You can feel his energy spike beside you, the way the room suddenly hums with the threat of a fight.
Lia’s throat works. “Heeseung…”
You blink. “You know him?”
She doesn’t answer. She just steps aside, letting him in.
(Lia’s POV)
He’s the last person she wanted to see.
And the only one she can’t stay away from.
Heeseung smells like the forest after rain — sharp pine and warmth and something that makes her stomach ache. His presence fills the room effortlessly, even as he stands in silence, dripping water onto your floor.
“Lia,” he says again, quieter this time. “You shouldn’t be with them.”
She folds her arms. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“You didn’t answer the call,” he says. “The pack’s been watching the town. We can smell it — the death, the blood. You think we wouldn’t notice vampires crossing the riverline?”
Jake shifts near the wall, his tone low. “You can stop speaking like we’re animals.”
Heeseung doesn’t even look at him. “Then stop behaving like one.”
Lia steps between them before the air can crack. “Enough. Both of you.”
Her heart is pounding. She hates how instinctively she wants to move closer to Heeseung, how his presence makes the wolf inside her restless — aching. The mate bond hums faintly, old and bruised, begging to be acknowledged.
“I told you not to come,” she says quietly.
He meets her eyes. “You told me to stay away. Not to stop caring.”
That’s what breaks her. For a moment, all her practiced control — the college life, the pretending, the human mask — shatters.
She looks away.
“I have to protect them,” she says finally. “Yn. Jadyn. The vampires aren’t all—”
He steps forward, closing the space. “You don’t owe them your life.”
Jake’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade. “But she owes someone’s.”
The growl that leaves Heeseung’s throat isn’t human.
You’ve never felt power like this — the room pulsing between two forces that shouldn’t coexist.
Lia’s shaking, her hand clutching the table for balance. Heeseung’s eyes flash, silver brightening to pale blue. Jake doesn’t move, but the air around him hums, alive with restrained violence.
You step forward. “Stop it.”
Neither of them looks at you.
So you do the only thing that comes to mind.
You grab the silver coin from the table and press it hard against your palm. The mark on your wrist ignites — white-hot, pulsing through the room like a wave.
Everything stills.
Jake looks at you, startled. Lia gasps, grabbing your arm.
The connection flares — through you, through Jake, through her — and for the first time, the bond extends.
You feel it: the heartbeat of something enormous. Old. Wild.
Wolves.
Vampires.
And somewhere in between — you.
When it fades, the three of you are left staring at each other, breathless, silent.
Jake recovers first. “Whatever that was,” he says slowly, “it’s changing the rules.”
Lia’s voice trembles. “Or breaking them.”
And through the open window, carried on the wind, comes a voice you know too well.
Familiar. Smooth.
how the blood remembers | chapter twenty three: sjy series
🦇Synopsis: Hollow creek has always been a quiet, calm place. A place that has resisted danger since you were born. That is, until a new guy comes to town and suddenly the everything that was forcefully hidden in hollow creek is brought up from the past.
⊹ ࣪ ˖Character analysis: Lia and Jake are left to have to form an agreement if they both want to keep you safe. You are more worried for Kai and what could be happening to her.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ A/n: If you would like to be added to the taglist, please send an ask!
Chapter Twenty Three: Blood in the Dawn
The sound comes first —
a dull thud against your door,
then the scrape of something heavy dragging away.
You hold the coin so tightly the red thread bites into your skin. The air feels different now — thick, electric, humming with a pulse that matches your own.
When you finally unlock the door, the hallway is empty except for the smell.
Iron. Rain. Smoke.
And Jake.
He’s slumped against the wall, coat torn at the shoulder, streaks of blood down his collarbone that look too dark to be human. His eyes snap open when you step into view — still silver, but dimmer, frayed at the edges.
“You—” you start, dropping to your knees.
He shakes his head weakly. “Don’t. Not here.”
You grip his arm anyway, pulling him inside, locking the door behind you. His skin is cold. Not lifeless — just barely holding on to something ancient and tired.
“What happened?”
“Your friend,” he breathes, wincing. “And the one who took her.”
“Niki.”
He nods once, jaw tightening. “She’s changing fast. The blood bond’s unstable — he didn’t turn her right.”
You press a towel against the wound, ignoring the tremor in your hands. “Why would he do that?”
His eyes meet yours, soft and raw. “Because she looks like someone he once killed.”
You freeze.
The mark on your wrist flares — and you see it, just for a second: Kai’s face under a flickering red light, her smile fractured, blood running down her chin. Niki whispers something in her ear that makes her shudder.
Jake grabs your wrist before you can lose your balance. “Stay with me,” he says quietly.
You do. You hold his gaze until your heartbeat steadies.
And then another voice breaks the quiet.
“Yn?”
You whip your head around.
Lia stands in the doorway, rain in her hair, eyes wide and wild — and glowing faintly amber.
(Lia’s POV)
The scent hits her before the sight does —
blood, burnt air, and him.
Jake Sim.
She knows what he is. Always has. The smell of old iron and cedar and something older than memory. It clings to him like a curse.
But seeing him now — weak, bleeding, in your space — it makes something primal rise in her chest.
Her claws itch beneath her skin, teeth pressing against the back of her tongue.
She’s been hiding it for months. Pretending the heat in her bones was stress, the noise in her head was anxiety. But the moon doesn’t care about pretense. Not when blood like his touches air like this.
“You need to leave,” Lia says, voice sharp.
Jake looks up, slow, wary. “Not tonight.”
“You brought this here.”
“She was already part of it,” he snaps, then softens. “They would’ve come whether I was here or not.”
Lia steps closer, scenting the air again. There’s another trail — faint, sweet, wrong. “Kai. She’s not dead.”
“No,” Jake says. “Not yet.”
“And if she finishes the turn?”
He doesn’t answer.
Lia glances at you — one of her best friends, clutching a coin marked by vampire blood, eyes still dazed from something she doesn’t fully understand, and Kai, her other friend who is dealing with demons who only want her soul— and she feels that old instinct crawl up her spine. The one her mother warned her about.
Protect what’s yours.
Even from monsters.
(Jake’s POV)
He can smell the wolf before she moves.
It’s not hostility — not yet — but tension. The kind born from instincts neither of them can ignore. The air between them hums with a thousand years of old war — teeth and fang, night and blood.
Still, his focus doesn’t waver. His eyes find you.
You’re standing between them, trembling, hair mussed, the mark on your wrist glowing faintly again.
“You shouldn’t have seen this,” he says softly.
“I see plenty,” you whisper back. “And I’m not leaving her.”
Something inside him fractures. Not from pain — from longing. He doesn’t remember the last time anyone had ever said I’m not leaving. Not since the Joseon court. Not since the night he buried the woman who tried.
He straightens slowly. The wound’s already knitting shut. “Niki’s not done. He’ll come back for her,” he nods toward you, “or for what’s connected to her. You.”
Lia growls softly. “Then he’ll deal with both of us.”
Jake’s lips twitch in something between a smirk and regret. “You’re not ready.”
“Try me,” she snaps.
You step between them again, voice breaking the tension like a blade: “Enough. We need to find Kai before she becomes like them.”
For a long moment, no one speaks. Rain fills the silence, the steady heartbeat of the storm.
Then Jake says, quietly but firmly, “At dawn, we hunt.”
The room feels smaller now — filled with too much truth and not enough air.
Jake leans against the wall, Lia pacing by the window, both watching the world outside like they’ve done this a thousand times before.
You press your fingers to the mark on your wrist, the faint pulse syncing with Jake’s breathing across the room.
He glances up. For a heartbeat, your eyes meet — and it feels like falling.
Something in you wants to reach for him.
Something in him looks like he already has.
But neither of you move.
Because dawn is coming.
And the hunt is waiting.
how the blood remembers | chapter twenty two : sjy series
🦇Synopsis: Hollow creek has always been a quiet, calm place. A place that has resisted danger since you were born. That is, until a new guy comes to town and suddenly the everything that was forcefully hidden in hollow creek is brought up from the past.
⊹ ࣪ ˖Character analysis: Jake gives you coin, maybe as a gift. More and more danger comes knocking at your door on this night.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ A/n: If you would like to be added to the taglist, please send an ask!
Chapter Twenty Two: Traces of Him
Morning doesn’t feel like morning.
The sky outside is the color of ash, the light too thin, like it doesn’t trust the town anymore.
You wake to a quiet that hums, a low vibration under your skin that you know isn’t natural. The mark on your wrist is cool now, but it’s still there — a faint shimmer, pulsing softly like the echo of a heartbeat that isn’t yours.
You rise, half expecting your reflection not to look back.
The window is still cracked from the night before. The curtains move slightly, though there’s no breeze.
And then you see it.
A small silver coin sits on your windowsill — old, circular, stamped with symbols you don’t recognize. You pick it up carefully. It’s cold. Older than it should be.
You flip it over, and your stomach tightens.
There’s a single red thread looped through the coin’s center — almost invisible unless the light hits it just right.
You whisper, “Why would you leave this. Jake..”
Because you know. You feel it. He left it there.
Not as a message.
As a warning.
Something stirs at the edge of your senses — an image that isn’t yours. A flash of trees. The sound of gravel under boots.
A low growl that feels too close.
And beneath all of that, Jake’s voice, low and strained:
Stay inside. Don’t answer if someone calls your name.
You grip the coin tighter.
But something in you already knows — it’s too late for warnings.
(Jake’s POV)
He doesn’t get far before he stops running.
The rain cuts through him like needles — sharp, cold, alive. He should feel nothing. He’s centuries old, built of restraint and silence. But your kiss still burns like a brand against his mouth, a phantom heartbeat he can’t quiet.
Jake presses his hand to his lips, breath catching in his chest. The taste of you lingers — warmth, defiance, the ache of something he should have never allowed himself to want.
He wishes he could pretend it was just the bond.
But he knows better.
The forest yawns open before him — black silhouettes and silver fog. It’s familiar, but wrong. He moves through it silently, every sense stretched thin. He needs distance from you, from the way your pulse had synced to his, from the way you’d looked at him like you weren’t afraid anymore.
Distance, however, is a lie.
The tether hums beneath his skin — a pulse that isn’t quite his, thrumming against the hollow of his ribs. Every few steps, it flares. Each time, he sees your face behind his eyes: lips parted, cheeks flushed, whispering his name like it meant something.
He wants to forget it. He can’t.
He crouches near the stream, dips his fingers into the water. It’s colder than it should be — tainted, metallic. He lifts his hand, and the faint scent of blood hits him.
New blood.
His gaze sharpens, scanning the trees. The forest is alive tonight, whispering through the fog, and beneath it — laughter. Low. Mocking.
“Niki,” he mutters.
The name tastes like iron.
Jake moves deeper into the dark, the rhythm of his steps turning predatory. There’s a trail — and threaded through it, a second scent. Familiar. Too familiar.
Her.
He stops dead. His chest tightens, every instinct in him screaming that she’s too close.
No. Not now.
He closes his eyes, stretching his awareness. The tether flickers — a flare of fear, a heartbeat that isn’t his. You are awake. Something’s near you. He can feel it.
He’s already moving before he realizes it.
The fog thickens. The street lights ahead flicker. By the time he reaches your apartment building, he hears it — three slow knocks.
Then silence.
His body moves on instinct. By the time he reaches the hallway, the scent of vampire venom and old blood hits him. He doesn’t hesitate — just steps into the dark, where a whisper cuts the air.
He can’t keep you from me.
A hiss follows. The sound of movement, too fast for human ears. Jake’s hand closes around the creature’s throat before the next breath.
And when the silence returns, it’s final.
He releases what’s left, the ash already dissolving. He can tell this isn’t over. That Niki will send anyone and anything after you. His chest rises and falls too fast for someone who doesn’t need air.
You're alive.
He can feel it. The bond pulses once, faintly — your heartbeat brushing against his like a secret.
Jake leans against the wall, eyes closing for a fraction of a second. He doesn’t know if it’s relief or terror. Maybe both.
He shouldn’t go to your window again. He shouldn’t even look.
But he does.
The curtains shift. The faint golden light spills out onto the street. And sitting on the sill is the silver coin he left her — the red thread glinting in the rain. A warning. A promise.
He touches it once. The metal burns against his fingertips, the same way your skin burned when you kissed him.
“I told you,” he whispers to no one. “I don’t follow. I protect.”
But the lie cracks at the edges.
Because protection doesn’t feel like this.
It feels like worship.
And for the first time in centuries, Jake Sim feels something close to fear — not of death, but of what he’ll become if anyone dares to take her from him again.
(Jake’s POV)
The forest behind the town still remembers blood.
He can smell it even now — faint, tainted, mixed with earth and fog.
Jake moves through it like he’s done it for centuries — quiet, precise, tracking the scent of what’s wrong. The new bloods. The reckless ones. The ones who never learned to hide their hunger.
And somewhere among them — the girl with Yn’s scent tangled in her pulse.
Kai.
He stops near a stream, crouches low. The water runs black under the moonlight, and he dips his fingers into it, feeling the temperature drop. Cold as death.
They were here.
Hours ago.
He closes his eyes, lets the noise of the forest fade until he hears it — the whisper of footsteps, the echo of laughter that doesn’t belong to the living.
Niki.
He’d recognize that tone anywhere. The arrogance of a newly turned vampire who’s never faced consequence.
“You took the wrong one,” Jake mutters under his breath.
His hands flex once, veins rising against his skin. He’s not angry — not yet — but the control he’s held for centuries is starting to slip.
He thinks of you.
The way your voice had cracked when you whispered his name last night. The warmth of your pulse through the bond neither of you wanted.
He hadn’t meant to stay. He told himself he’d leave after you slept.
But you didn’t.
And he couldn’t.
You’d sat by the window, eyes half-closed, light touching your hair — and Jake, the immortal who hadn’t prayed in 500 years, had stood there in the shadows praying he wouldn’t forget how to leave.
Now, the tether burns faintly under his sleeve. The same mark. The same pull. He feels when you wake, when you pick up the coin, when your pulse quickens at the sound of something near your window.
He’s already moving before he can think.
Back toward town.
Back to you.
The fog thickens, alive with the scent of ash and something sweeter.
Blood. Fresh. Close.
He breaks into a run.
The coin slips from your fingers as a sharp knock echoes through your apartment.
Three slow raps.
Then silence.
You freeze, breath caught in your throat.
A second knock. Harder this time.
And a voice — soft, familiar.
“Yn? It’s me.”
Kai.
You blink once, twice, trying to steady your breathing.
But when you glance through the peephole, what you see isn’t her.
Her complexion is completely white.
Her hair black and pin straight, even though she feels disheveled. It’s her shape.
Her smile.
But her eyes — too dark, too still.
Your heart kicks once, hard. The mark on your wrist burns like it’s screaming.
Don’t answer if someone calls your name.
Jake’s voice — that low echo inside your head.
The doorknob rattles once.
Then, a whisper right against the wood — soft, coaxing, not quite human.
“He can’t keep you from me.”
Your fingers tighten around the silver coin. The red thread glows faintly between your knuckles.
She had said the same thing you had kept hearing.
And from somewhere down the hall — a shadow moves fast.
The knock stops.
A hiss splits the air.
Then silence.
You don’t open the door.
You just stand there, hand over your heart, and know — Jake is out there.
And something dark is now hunting both of you.
The knock has stopped finally.
You don’t breathe for a long moment. The silence afterward feels too heavy, like the air itself is waiting. The mark on your wrist hums faintly, then stills.
Something’s changed.
You step closer to the window, careful not to make a sound. The rain outside has softened to a whisper. The curtains tremble slightly, and through the glass you catch a glimpse — a shadow in the streetlight, tall, still, watching.
You know that shape.
You whisper, “Jake.”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t answer. But somehow, you feel it — the steady rhythm of his presence, the quiet thrum of the bond that ties you together.
You press your fingers against the glass. For a heartbeat, it feels warm — like someone’s palm is pressed to the other side.
And even though the space between you is filled with rain and danger and everything you shouldn’t want, you find yourself whispering again, softer this time:
“Don’t go.”
The shadow doesn’t fade, but the connection flares — a pulse beneath your skin, steady and strong.
Then, as quickly as it came, it’s gone.
Only the quiet remains. The coin glints faintly on your windowsill, the red thread catching the light like a heartbeat.
You exhale, trembling, and sink down beside the glass.
You don’t know what scares you more — that he came back.
how the blood remembers | chapter twenty one : sjy series
🦇Synopsis: Hollow creek has always been a quiet, calm place. A place that has resisted danger since you were born. That is, until a new guy comes to town and suddenly then everything that was forcefully hidden in hollow creek is brought up from the past.
⊹ ࣪ ˖Character analysis: You begin to learn the history of Jake and now you guys are starting to gain more and more emotions towards each other. that may or may not be a good thing.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ A/n: If you would like to be added to the taglist, please send an ask!
Chapter Twenty One: Hunger in the Quiet
You don’t sleep that night.
You try. You shut your eyes, count breaths, trace the faint pulse of your wrist until the numbers blur—but every time you get close, something stirs. A flicker. A whisper. A presence that isn’t entirely yours.
It feels like someone is remembering you.
Outside, the rain finally breaks. The sound against your window is steady and relentless, almost soothing—until it isn’t. Because underneath it, faint but distinct, you hear footsteps. Slow. Deliberate.
You sit up. The clock reads 3:03 A.M.
The steps stop just below your window. Then: silence.
You rise before you can second-guess it, feet hitting the cold floor. The mark on your wrist burns faintly again, a slow pulse that feels alive. When you pull the curtain back, there’s no one there—just the reflection of the streetlight painting the puddles gold.
But you know better now.
You whisper into the dark, “Jake.”
No answer.
Still, you feel him.
The window fogs faintly, like someone exhaled on the other side.
When you turn away, he’s there.
Leaning against the wall, half-shadow, eyes catching the faintest light. His coat is damp, hair clinging slightly to his temples, but his expression is unreadable—like he’s been fighting something invisible and is still losing.
“I told you to stay home,” he says quietly.
“You didn’t tell me you’d follow me here.”
“I don’t follow,” he murmurs. “I make sure you survive.”
You cross your arms. “Same thing.”
He almost smiles, but doesn’t. The line of his jaw tightens instead. He looks around your small room—the books stacked near the bed, the half-burned candle, the window still fogged—and for a moment, you think he might actually relax. But then he takes a step closer, and you see it—the hunger he’s trying to hide.
Not just for blood. For something human.
You whisper, “What are you doing here?”
His gaze flicks to the mark on your wrist, and his voice roughens. “I needed to make sure it didn’t call to you again.”
“It?”
“The bond,” he says, like the word tastes wrong. “It started the night at the theater. I should have stopped it then.”
You take a step closer too. “Then why didn’t you?”
He exhales sharply through his nose, as if the answer burns. “Because I wanted to know what it would feel like.”
The rain grows heavier. His eyes—silver, storming, impossible—meet yours and hold them.
Jake Sim, the man who hasn’t belonged to a century in half a millennium, looks at you like you are the first thing in all that time that makes him feel alive.
But he doesn’t move closer. He doesn’t touch you. His restraint is violent.
You can feel the tension in him—like something ancient and disciplined is fracturing.
You whisper, “How old are you really?”
His eyes narrow slightly, then soften. “Old enough to remember centuries of history. To be able to stand in front of you, even though I was born thousands of years ago. To a whole different era than this one now.”
“The Joseon Dynasty? Like you said,” you murmur.
He nods once. “I was a soldier before. A Court shadow. A Guardian.” His lips twitch in the faintest smile. “I was raised to serve and to obey. Then I was turned. Now I serve nothing. Not even myself.”
You study him, the quiet in his voice sharper than any confession.
“And yet here you are,” you say. “Guarding me.”
His eyes flick to yours again. “You shouldn’t mistake instinct for choice.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t either.”
That lands. You see it in the way his throat moves, the way his jaw flexes. He takes another step forward, close enough that the air between you changes—charged, trembling.
“Yn,” he says softly, almost warningly.
The mark on your wrist pulses once. Hard.
He looks down, notices it, and something in his expression falters. Not fear—longing.
For a breathless moment, you think he might reach for you. His hand lifts halfway, fingers trembling before curling into a fist again.
Instead, he turns away, heading for the window.
“I’ll keep watch,” he murmurs. “You should rest.”
“Jake—”
He glances back once, rainlight catching the sharp line of his profile. His voice is quiet, but it cuts through the room like a promise.
“If I stay any longer, I won’t.”
And then he’s gone—like he never was, only the faint scent of rain and smoke left in the air.
You sit there in the quiet for a long time, the mark still warm against your skin, your heartbeat syncing to something ancient and steady that isn’t entirely yours anymore.
You don’t hear him come back.
You just feel it — the way the air bends, the way the silence suddenly listens.
You’re sitting by the window again, the storm still whispering against the glass, your fingers tracing the silver coin he left you nights ago. The mark on your wrist pulses faintly, that quiet heartbeat that isn’t yours.
“Couldn’t stay away?” you murmur without turning.
A low voice answers from behind you. “You talk like you were waiting.”
You glance over your shoulder. Jake stands just inside your room, half-soaked from the rain again, hair dripping onto his collar. His coat clings to his frame, his expression unreadable — but his eyes, silver in the lamplight, betray something restless.
“Was I wrong?” you ask softly.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he crosses the small room in slow, deliberate steps, the kind that make your pulse stumble before he even reaches you. He stops close enough that the hem of his coat brushes your knee.
“You shouldn’t say my name like that,” he murmurs. “Not when you don’t mean to stop me.”
“Who says I want to?”
That draws his gaze up to yours — sharp, startled, then dark. The space between you is small, but it feels vast, like the air itself is deciding what happens next.
“You think I came here for that?” he asks, voice low.
“I think you came because you couldn’t not.”
He exhales through his nose, the sound more like surrender than frustration. “You shouldn’t—”
“Be near you? You said that last time.”
Jake’s jaw tightens. “And I meant it.”
You stand, slowly, until you’re face-to-face. “Then why are you here again, Jake?”
He doesn’t answer right away. His hand lifts — stops midair, trembling like he’s fighting every instinct he’s ever learned. Finally, he touches your wrist, right where the mark lives beneath the skin. The contact burns softly, like recognition.
“Because I feel it when you can’t sleep,” he says. “Because every time it calls, I hear you before I want to.”
Your throat tightens. “And now?”
“Now it’s quiet.” His gaze drags up to your lips, and you feel the words more than hear them. “Too quiet.”
You don’t know who moves first. One breath, one heartbeat — then his mouth finds yours.
It’s not soft this time. Not hesitant. It’s the kind of kiss that feels inevitable, the kind that erases every rule he’s spent centuries building. His hand slips to your jaw, thumb tracing your cheekbone, while your fingers clutch his coat like you’re afraid he’ll vanish with the storm.
The tether between you hums again — alive, burning, perfect.
He breaks the kiss first, forehead resting against yours, breathing hard. Rain hits the window in uneven bursts, the only sound between you.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he whispers.
“Then why does it feel like you were supposed to?”
Jake’s lips twitch, a ghost of a smile. “Because I’ve already crossed the line,” he murmurs. “And I don’t think I can go back.”
You don’t answer — just press your hand to his chest, feeling the faint rhythm that shouldn’t exist there. For a moment, it matches yours.
Then he steps back, his restraint slamming back into place like armor. “Lock the window,” he says quietly. “And don’t open it. No matter what you hear tonight.”
“Jake—”
He shakes his head. “If I stay any longer, I won’t leave.”
The words linger as he slips into the rain again — a flash of shadow, silver eyes, and the ghost of a kiss that still burns against your lips. You touch your wrist. The mark glows once, soft and sure, before fading.
And even in the silence he leaves behind, you feel him — like a pulse beneath your skin, a promise neither of you can unmake.
how the blood remembers | chapter twenty : sjy series
🦇Synopsis: Hollow creek has always been a quiet, calm place. A place that has resisted danger since you were born. That is, until a new guy comes to town and suddenly the everything that was forcefully hidden in hollow creek is brought up from the past.
⊹ ࣪ ˖Character analysis: Things are happening one by one and you wondering if you can keep up with all the paranormal activity around you, or if it is going to swallow you whole.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ A/n: If you would like to be added to the taglist, please send an ask!
Chapter Twenty: Strange Serenity
You wake before the alarm again.
The light leaking through your curtains is thin, gray, hesitant — the kind of dawn that feels like it’s second-guessing itself. You sit up slowly, pressing a hand to your chest, trying to calm a heartbeat that isn’t just yours.
Something’s wrong.
Not like last night — worse.
The air hums faintly, the way it does before a storm. Except there are no clouds, no rain — just stillness.
When you glance at your wrist, the mark gleams faintly, silver edged with faint red. It’s never done that before. It’s as if it’s reacting.
You can feel her.
Not Lia this time.
Kai.
You grab your phone and scroll through messages. Nothing new. The last thing she sent was a short can we talk later? from two days ago.
You try calling. No answer.
Something prickles under your skin — not panic, not yet, but the heavy awareness that someone, somewhere, has crossed a line they shouldn’t have.
You dress quickly and head outside.
Campus is quiet, too quiet for a Friday morning. The wind carries that strange electric chill again, the one that started when Lia vanished. It feels like the whole world is holding its breath.
You find Kai near the arts building, sitting on the edge of the fountain. She’s staring at her reflection in the water, perfectly still.
You call her name once.
She turns slowly.
There’s something in her eyes — too calm, too sharp. Her skin looks pale but smooth, like light can’t decide whether to touch her. And when she smiles, it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Hey,” she says softly. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I should be asking you that.”
She tilts her head, studying you. “You’re worried.”
“Of course I’m worried. You’ve been gone for days, Kai. You didn’t answer—”
“I was just… with friends.”
The pause in her voice is almost imperceptible, but you hear it.
“Which friends?”
Her lips twitch. “You wouldn’t know them.”
You step closer. “Try me.”
For a moment, she just looks at you — and in her gaze, something flickers. Recognition, guilt, longing. Then it’s gone, replaced by a strange serenity that makes your stomach turn.
“I feel different,” she says finally. “Better, even. It’s like everything’s… clearer.”
You stare at her wrist — at the faint, glowing crescent that mirrors your own mark.
“What happened to you?” you whisper.
Her expression softens — almost kind. “Don’t be scared. It’s not bad.”
“Kai—”
“You’ll understand soon.”
You take another step, but she stands suddenly, backing away. “I have to go. They’re waiting for me.”
“They?”
She hesitates, and for just a heartbeat, her composure cracks. Fear flickers there — real, human, terrified.
Then something unseen pulls tight in the air between you. You both feel it — that invisible thread, humming like a current.
The mark on your wrist burns.
Kai’s eyes widen, and she grabs her own hand like she’s feeling it too.
“Yn…” she whispers, voice trembling now. “It’s—he’s—”
And then she’s gone.
One blink and she’s gone, the sound of her footsteps vanishing like the air swallowed her whole.
You’re left standing by the fountain, your reflection trembling on the surface, the mark on your skin glowing hot and alive.
And somewhere deep in the distance — faint, but real — you swear you hear Jake’s voice through the echo of it all:
You shouldn’t have let her in.
The morning air tastes wrong.
It’s faint at first — something shifting under the cool breath of dawn — but once you notice it, it’s all you can taste. Iron. Copper. Something sweet and rotting underneath.
You pull your jacket tighter as you and Jake follow Lia through the trees. Her shoulders are rigid, every step clipped, like she’s been fighting some invisible pull the whole way here.
You don’t know why she insisted on coming this way. You don’t know why the air feels charged — like a storm without lightning.
“Lia,” you call, your voice low, “how much farther?”
She doesn’t answer. Her head tilts slightly, eyes narrowing toward something ahead.
Jake catches your wrist before you can take another step. “Do you smell that?”
You do.
And now it’s stronger.
The forest floor is damp from last night’s rain, the air too quiet. Even the cicadas are holding their breath.
Then you see it — a dark stain spreading through the leaves, glistening faintly.
You freeze. “Jake.”
He’s already moving, crouching near it, his hand hovering just above the ground. When he looks back at you, his face is pale. “Blood. A lot of it.”
Your stomach turns. “Is it—”
“Human.” His jaw tightens. “Fresh.”
Lia swallows hard. You glance at her — and that’s when you see it. Her pupils are blown wide, her chest rising and falling too fast.
“Lia,” you say softly, stepping closer. “Hey. You okay?”
Her hands tremble. “She’s here.”
“Who?”
Lia’s gaze flickers to the trees. “Kai.”
You turn before you even process it. “Kai?”
And then you see her.
She’s standing between the trees, barefoot, her skin pale as moonlight against the dark. There’s blood — streaked across her arms, down the side of her neck — and her eyes... they’re wrong. Too bright. Too alive.
“Kai?” you whisper.
She blinks at you, head tilted, like she’s trying to remember what your name means.
Then she smiles.
“Yn,” she says softly. Her voice is calm, too calm. “You came.”
Jake steps in front of you instinctively, one arm angled back to keep you behind him. His tone hardens. “What happened?”
You glance at Lia, who’s gone still — her face pale, her breathing uneven. She takes one step back. “We need to go.”
“What?” you whisper. “We can’t just—”
“Yn,” Lia hisses, her voice trembling. “That’s not her.”
You look back at Kai.
And she’s moving closer.
Her movements are graceful but strange — like she’s mimicking how humans walk but hasn’t quite figured it out. When the sunlight hits her face through the branches, you see it: faint silver veins tracing under her skin, pulsing in rhythm with the mark on your wrist.
Jake curses under his breath. “Shit. She’s turned.”
“Turned?” you echo. “Into what?”
Lia’s voice cracks. “Vampire.”
The word feels wrong in your mouth, like something that shouldn’t exist outside stories. But the thing in front of you isn’t a story.
Kai tilts her head, her voice soft as silk. “It’s not what you think. I feel… free.”
She takes another step, and Jake’s hand tightens around yours. The pendant around your neck — the one that refuses to leave you — burns hot against your skin.
Lia flinches. “Yn— it’s reacting.”
Kai’s eyes flick down to the glow. “He told me about that.”
Jake’s expression darkens, his posture coiling. “We’re leaving. Now.”
You want to argue, to reach for Kai — but then she laughs. It’s soft, melodic, and utterly chilling.
“He said you’d try to stop me,” she murmurs. “But it’s too late.”
The pendant pulses once, twice, then flares — light searing through your palm. Kai flinches, hissing, retreating into the shade.
Jake yanks you back, his voice low and sharp. “Run.”
You don’t remember moving — only the crash of branches, Lia’s uneven breathing, Jake’s hand tight on yours as you run until the woods give way to the road again.
When you finally stop, your chest heaving, Lia bends forward, shaking. “She killed someone.”
You stare at her. “What?”
Lia’s eyes are glassy. “That’s what the smell was. The blood. It was human. She— she fed.”
You cover your mouth, bile rising. “No. She wouldn’t—”
“She already did,” Lia says softly. “She’s not the same, Yn. She’s one of them now.”
The silence after that feels endless. The only sound is the pendant’s faint hum against your chest.
Jake exhales, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes hard. “We need to figure out what she’s tied to. And fast.”
You nod numbly. “And Niki?”
His expression tightens. “If he turned her… he’s not just some vampire. He’s something older.”
That night, after the adrenaline has dulled and Lia’s breathing has steadied, you and she sit on your apartment floor — the pendant between you, pulsing faintly in time with your heartbeats.
Lia keeps glancing at the window, her nerves raw. “She’s going to come back,” she says. “She always does.”
You stare at the pendant, tracing the faint cracks that weren’t there before. “Then we’ll be ready.”
What you don’t know — what you can’t see — is the faint reflection in the glass behind you.
Heeseung, leaning against the fire escape, eyes narrowed.
He watches you both through the window, silent, the wind shifting his hair.
He doesn’t move until Lia laughs softly — tired, scared, trying to pretend things are normal.
His jaw tightens.
Because he knows now.
Whatever this is — whatever you’re becoming — you’re at the center of it. And in return she’s involved.
how the blood remembers | chapter nineteen : sjy series
🦇Synopsis: Hollow creek has always been a quiet, calm place. A place that has resisted danger since you were born. That is, until a new guy comes to town and suddenly the everything that was forcefully hidden in hollow creek is brought up from the past.
⊹ ࣪ ˖Character analysis: Kai goes through enough than she can handle. Being ambushed by an alluring and attractive man, she is left with one question. Should she succumb to the dark like everyone else?
⊹ ࣪ ˖ A/n: If you would like to be added to the taglist, please send an ask!
Chapter Nineteen: The Taste of Velvet
Kai never used to like the dark.
Now she finds herself craving it.
It started with the text — no name, just an address and a time. Midnight.
A room above the old theater downtown, the one that’s been closed since before she was born.
The Velvet Vein.
She told herself it was harmless. A poetry club, maybe. The kind of thing she could bring up later, casually, to Yn — like she hadn’t been avoiding her for days. Like she wasn’t still dreaming about the woods.
She walks there alone.
The street’s nearly empty. Rain slicks the pavement, the neon signs bleeding red and white in puddles. When she reaches the door, she hesitates. There’s a symbol carved into the wood — two parallel lines and a small crescent above them.
It feels familiar.
When she pushes the door open, the air changes — colder, richer, like it’s been waiting.
Inside, everything glows low amber. Velvet curtains, the hum of jazz so old it feels like it’s playing from inside her chest.
And then there are them.
Five of them at least. Young, beautiful, too still to be real. Their eyes follow her as she steps in, but none move until one does.
He’s tall, frosty white hair falling into his eyes, his smile deliberate.
“Kai,” he says smoothly, as if they’ve met before. “We’ve been waiting.”
She should ask how he knows her name. She doesn’t.
Something about his voice makes her forget to breathe.
“I— I thought this was a club meeting,” she says, hating the way her voice trembles.
“It is,” he says, lips curving. “Just not the kind you’re used to.”
Someone behind him laughs softly, and it sounds like a sigh more than a sound.
The boy steps closer. His presence hums in the air — like a low-frequency vibration that makes her skin prickle.
“My name’s Niki,” he says, offering his hand. “We read. We drink. We listen. You’ll like it here.”
His hand is cold when she takes it, but she doesn’t pull away.
He leads her to a velvet couch where a few others sit — two girls, pale and graceful, and another man who looks like he’s been carved out of night.
On the table in front of them are glasses of deep red wine. The scent is heavy and sweet, almost floral, but when it hits the back of her throat she realizes it’s not wine.
Her body goes still.
Niki watches her. “Don’t worry. You won’t have to drink. Not yet.”
Her pulse stutters. “What is this?”
He leans in, his breath ghosting against her ear. “Freedom. Beauty. Power. Everything humans pretend they don’t want.”
She shivers. “You’re not—”
“Human?” His smile widens, teeth just a little too sharp. “Not for a long time.”
Kai’s breath catches. “Why me?”
Niki’s gaze drifts over her, slow, deliberate. “Because you’re curious. Because you followed the pull instead of running from it. Because there’s something in your blood that doesn’t fear the dark.”
He tilts his head, studying her. “And because your friend is already marked.”
Her stomach twists. “Yn?”
Niki’s eyes glint. “You didn’t know?”
He sits back, satisfaction curling around his words. “She’s caught between worlds now. You should be careful how close you stand.”
Kai’s throat goes dry. “You know her?”
“We know him,” Niki says. “And he knows you.”
Jake.
The name flashes in her mind before he even says it.
Niki laughs quietly. “He won’t save her. He won’t save you either. He’s too bound by rules, by guilt. But we—” he lifts his glass, the red liquid gleaming like light through stained glass “—we have no rules.”
The others raise their glasses too. The sound echoes like a heartbeat.
Something about it feels ancient, ritualistic.
And Kai — trembling, mesmerized, half-afraid, half-thrilled — realizes she’s smiling.
Because for the first time since Lia vanished and the world started to twist, someone is telling her what she already feels: that the darkness is not just coming for them.
It’s inside them.
The air in the room hums like a live wire.
Niki’s presence fills it — heavy, electric, impossible to ignore. The others fade into the background, their laughter soft and distant, as if the world has slowed down to wait for whatever he’s about to do.
He stands in front of her, close enough that she can feel the chill radiating off his skin.
“Do you want to know what it feels like?” he asks.
Kai swallows. “What does?”
“To belong,” he says softly.
Her throat tightens. Every instinct tells her to step back, but her body won’t move. She can’t look away from him — from the dark gleam in his eyes, the way the air around him feels heavier than gravity itself.
He lifts his hand, fingers grazing her wrist — not rough, not gentle either. The touch leaves a chill, one that seeps under her skin and blooms outward.
“Everything changes when we touch you,” Niki murmurs. “Your blood learns our rhythm. Your heart, our hunger.”
Her pulse thrums in her ears. “Is that what you did to Lia?”
Niki smiles faintly. “Lia wasn’t ready. You are.”
The words hit her like a current. The fear inside her bends, reshapes, becomes something else — curiosity laced with danger.
He traces the inside of her wrist again. The room dims, or maybe her vision does. All she can see is him.
“You can still walk away,” Niki says. “But once you let me in, it doesn’t stop.”
The sound of her heartbeat is deafening.
“Show me,” she whispers.
He exhales slowly, almost reverently, and presses his mouth against her neck. His teeth dig in, an intense pain shooting through her body.
He releases, one of the girl handing him a knife. Kai watches as Niki slices his wrist, his red, warm blood pooling out.
"Drink." He says, commanding her and Kai does just that. Her lips brush against his cold wrist, slowly sipping. His blood is thick and sweet.
A sudden cold rushes through her veins — not pain, but possession.
Her vision floods with color, silver and crimson, as if the world is unraveling and reforming in his image.
She feels the rhythm of something ancient echo through her chest, syncing with her heartbeat until she can’t tell which is which.
When she finally blinks, the world steadies again — but everything feels different.
Her senses are sharp, too sharp. She can hear the blood moving in the walls, the soft exhale of someone’s breath across the room. Her reflection in the glass glows faintly, veins shining like silver thread.
Niki watches her closely, his expression unreadable.
“It’s done,” he says quietly. “You’ll start to feel it soon.”
“What did you do to me?”
“I gave you clarity,” he murmurs. “Now you’ll see what you were meant to see all along.”
She stares down at her wrist. The skin where he touched her is cool and faintly luminous — a mark shaped like two crescents overlapping.
The same mark Lia had scratched into the tree.
Something inside her trembles. She wants to run, to find you, to make sense of what’s happening—But when she looks back up at Niki, her fear fades into something like calm.
His eyes hold her there, steady and hypnotic.
And when he smiles, she feels her pulse answer him.
how the blood remembers | chapter eighteen : sjy series
🦇Synopsis: Hollow creek has always been a quiet, calm place. A place that has resisted danger since you were born. That is, until a new guy comes to town and suddenly the everything that was forcefully hidden in hollow creek is brought up from the past.
⊹ ࣪ ˖Character analysis: You and Jake share a moment you thought honestly wouldn't happen. You care for him, and he just wants to help you out of the situation he put you in.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ A/n: If you would like to be added to the taglist, please send an ask!
Chapter Eighteen: The Line Between Protection and Desire
The night should have ended hours ago.
The courtyard still smells of dust and ozone, the marble split where blood and light collided. Everyone’s gone — Sunghoon and Sunoo vanished as silently as they came, promising to watch the borders.
Now it’s just you and Jake.
He’s sitting on the edge of the broken fountain, knuckles torn, shirt ripped across the shoulder. Moonlight catches in the streak of blood along his jaw, turning it silver.
You hover a few steps away, unsure if you should speak.
He looks… different. Not just tired — haunted.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he murmurs finally, not looking up. His voice is low, like something dangerous trying to stay gentle. “That mark on your wrist — it reacts to blood. You shouldn’t be near me right now.”
You glance at the faint scar that glows faintly beneath your skin. “Then tell me what it means,” you whisper. “Because every time you fight, I feel it. Like it’s trying to pull me toward you.”
Jake’s head lifts. For a second, you think he’s going to lie — then he doesn’t.
“It’s a tether,” he says quietly. “A curse. Whoever created it linked you to me because I’m the last one with the blood strong enough to undo it.”
You take a slow breath. “So it’s not random.”
“Nothing in our world is random.”
The silence stretches — brittle, trembling. The moon sits high above, pale and cold. You can hear the faint hum of the world: insects, distant cars, your own pulse.
Jake finally stands. The air shifts with him. Every movement feels deliberate — too graceful to be human, too restrained to be safe.
He stops in front of you. “You shouldn’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I won.”
He’s closer now — so close the air between you vibrates. You can see the faint tremor in his hands, the conflict in his eyes. He’s all sharp lines and stillness, but his restraint feels fragile, like a dam about to crack.
You take a step closer anyway. “You did win,” you say. “You saved us.”
His breath catches. “You don’t understand. I almost didn’t.”
For a moment, neither of you move. The mark on your wrist glows softly — answering something in him. His gaze drops to it, then back to your face.
“Every time it reacts,” he murmurs, “it feels like a heartbeat that isn’t mine.”
He reaches up — hesitates — then brushes his fingers just above your wrist. The contact sends a spark racing through you, bright and cold. His touch lingers there, careful, reverent, almost afraid.
“If I could take it from you, I would,” he says, voice breaking just slightly. “I don’t want you tied to this. To me.”
You shake your head. “Then stop pretending you don’t care.”
The words hang in the air between you, sharper than any weapon.
Jake freezes. The mask he wears — centuries of distance and control — fractures. He exhales slowly, stepping closer, his forehead nearly touching yours.
“I care more than I should,” he says finally, the confession quiet but raw. “That’s the problem.”
The night seems to hold its breath. His hand rises, fingers ghosting along your jaw, slowly tilting your jaw as he places a soft kiss to your lips. Your heart stops and Jake pulls away, his eyes staying on you. He says nothing else, only giving you that. A promise and a warning in one.
The mark between you pulses once — faint, then steady — and you feel it: the tether humming like two heartbeats falling in rhythm. Not pain this time, but something that feels like recognition.
Jake steps back first, jaw tightening. “You should go. Before I forget who I’m supposed to be.”
You hesitate, watching him in the moonlight — the last relic of an ancient world trying to be something human.
And even as you turn to leave, you know: the line between protection and desire is already gone.
how the blood remembers | chapter seventeen : sjy series
🦇Synopsis: Hollow creek has always been a quiet, calm place. A place that has resisted danger since you were born. That is, until a new guy comes to town and suddenly the everything that was forcefully hidden in hollow creek is brought up from the past.
⊹ ࣪ ˖Character analysis: Jake gets himself mixed up in a fight with an accomplice to the evil endangering your town. You are left to try to piece together what is exactly happening.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ A/n: If you would like to be added to the taglist, please send an ask!
Chapter Seventeen: Fighting What’s Dark
The first thing you notice that night is the silence.
It’s not peaceful — it’s the kind that feels heavy, pressing against your chest like the air knows something is about to break.
You’re walking back from the old library, the one barely anyone uses anymore, when you feel it — a flicker at the edge of your awareness. A pulse. Faint, but wrong.
Your wrist burns. The mark that connects you to Jake flares, sharp enough to make you gasp.
“Jake?” you whisper, even though he’s not there.
But something deep inside you answers — not words, but emotion: anger, restraint… danger.
You start running.
By the time you reach the north courtyard, you hear it — the crash of metal, the low growl that doesn’t sound human.
Moonlight slants across the old statue in the center, illuminating the scene like a stage.
Jake stands alone, back to you, facing a man standing and his group — four of them, their eyes glowing faintly red. The man in the middle looks amused, his smile sharp. His hair is frosty blonde, it draws you in, unable to look away.
“You’ve been playing human too long,” The man drawls. “Forgot what you are, didn’t you, old man?”
Jake’s voice is calm, but there’s a lethal edge beneath it. “You’re not my kind, Niki. You’re something else — something rotten.”
The guy named Niki tilts his head. “We’re evolution. You’re history.”
You can feel Jake’s control thinning — centuries of restraint cracking under the weight of something primal.
He’s not scared. But he’s furious.
(Jake’s POV)
The smell of blood is everywhere.
Old marble, wet grass, the faint metallic scent of Niki’s group — it all blends into one thing: hunger.
It would be easy to let go. To show them what a real vampire of the Joseon Dynasty was capable of.
But he’s not that creature anymore.
At least, he’s been trying not to be.
“You shouldn’t have come back here,” Jake says. “The Council forbade it.”
Niki laughs, throwing his arms wide. “And who listens to old ghosts? You think they still rule anything? We make the rules now.”
He flicks his fingers, and one of the others moves — fast. Too fast.
Jake blocks the strike, twisting, sending the attacker sprawling. Another lunges. Jake catches his throat, slams him into the ground. The air trembles with each impact.
But Niki doesn’t move. He watches — eyes glowing crimson. “You still fight like you care,” he taunts. “Still clinging to that humanity she gave you.”
Jake’s jaw tightens. “Don’t say her name.”
“Yani.”
The name hits like a blade.
Jake’s breath falters for just a second — just enough. Niki grins and lunges.
They crash through the courtyard wall, stone splintering. Jake’s knuckles split as he hits him, again, again, until Niki laughs through the blood. “You can’t kill me,” he spits. “You’re too busy pretending to be human for her.”
Jake freezes. His chest heaves. The thought of you — your warmth, your scent, the look in your eyes when you say his name — slams into him like sunlight through centuries of dark.
He’s about to strike again when the air rips.
A shockwave bursts through the courtyard, knocking both vampires back. A voice follows — cool, deliberate, and deadly.
“Enough.”
The temperature drops.
Two figures step from the shadows, and the air around them changes.
Sunghoon — sharp-eyed, elegant, lethal. His presence is a weapon all on its own.
Sunoo — deceptively gentle, his expression unreadable, but power radiating off him like cold light.
They move like mirrored wolves — in perfect sync, all grace and intent.
“Still picking fights with children, Jake?” Sunghoon murmurs, brushing dust off his sleeve.
Sunoo smiles faintly. “Or did the children forget who they were playing with?”
Niki snarls. “The ancients crawl out of their coffins now?”
Sunoo’s smile fades. “Careful. We put your kind in those coffins.”
The tension shatters like glass. The fight erupts again — this time, brutal and fast.
Sunghoon and Sunoo move through Niki’s followers like wind through flame. They don’t hesitate. There’s no anger, just precision — centuries of skill turned into instinct.
You watch, frozen between awe and terror. The world blurs — teeth, movement, shadows flickering.
Then silence.
Niki’s the only one left standing. Barely. His smile has twisted into something ugly. “You think this ends with me?” he spits, blood streaking his jaw. “She’s coming back, Jake. And when she does — she’ll burn you all.”
Jake’s voice is ice. “Then we’ll burn her first.”
Niki laughs once — broken, echoing — then vanishes into smoke.
The courtyard is wrecked.
Marble shattered, the grass scorched from the energy they unleashed.
Sunghoon wipes his blade clean, glancing at Jake. “You should’ve called us sooner.”
“I didn’t want you involved,” Jake mutters. “Not yet.”
Sunoo folds his arms. “Too late for that. He mentioned her, didn’t he?”
Jake doesn’t answer, but his silence is enough.
You step closer, your wrist still faintly glowing. “Who is she?”
Jake’s eyes meet yours — and for the first time, you see fear there. Not for himself. For you.
His voice drops low, almost reverent.
“She’s the reason I stopped feeding,” he says. “And the reason I might have to start again.”
The night air tightens.
Somewhere far off, thunder rumbles.
And for the first time, you understand — danger has always been here, even before the storm.
