warnings: everything basically, blood, vampires, smut, felix is sooooo down bad, he’s lowkey a creep, stalking, mentions of ghosts and outwordly creatures, sloooow burn, mdni!!!!
a/n: let me know if you guys want this to be a series!
chapter one | chapter 2 | chapter 3
——
you were already half asleep by the time the train left the station. it was always so quiet, but especially today. of course it was quiet on a train at 2 am, and you were lucky you got to go home that early.
the hum of the wheels against the train tracks filled your ears as you drifted off. the train coming to its first stop woke you up with a soft jolt. your eyes blinked open, trying to make sense of the dimly lit carriage. you yawned, rubbing your eyes as the carriage door pulled open with a metallic creeeaak.
you didn’t bother to look up, just leaned your head back against your seat again, clutching your phone in your hand. but you felt it. the way the air changed, the way the scent made it to your nose. the crisp, slightly metallic scent. it had something to it, some sweetness you couldn’t point out.
it made you open your eyes again. you didn’t have to search the source of it for too long. you looked up, a pair of leather boots catching your eyes. they were shiny, even in the dim light. black dress pants, a charcoal button down, and a long coat that seemed far too formal for the current time and place.
by the time your gaze travelled to his face, his eyes were already on you. sharp. unreal. your breath caught before you could stop it. he didn’t look away, not once. not when your gaze met his head-on. not when you shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.
his blonde hair was brushed back, but a few strands framed his freckled face. he was pale, almost angelic looking. you thought you were dreaming. but you weren’t. he looked like something pulled from an oil painting, just too still to be real.
you couldn’t even form a thought other than him. his gaze pressed you down like a physical weight, you could only sit there, locked within this strange interaction, if you could call it that.
he didn’t speak. he didn’t need to. the way he smelled, looked so otherwordly, it caught your attention completely. you tore your gaze away, forcing yourself to look at the window instead, the darkness passing by outside.
but you could still feel him. you could still feel how much he took up the space he was in. and when you finally dared to look back, hesitant, his eyes weren’t on you anymore. your stop was next, so you grabbed your bag with shaky hands, and stood until the train came to a stop.
when you got off, the pull of that stranger left you. but the memory didn’t.
——
it’s been days since the train. you told yourself you’d forgotten him, told yourself it was just exhaustion, a trick of the late hour.
but sometimes, when the hospital went quiet and you had nothing else left to do, you’d catch yourself remembering. the sharpness of his face. the way he looked at you like he knew you.
you tried to shake the thought off. just a stranger. just a dream. but then you started seeing him.
at first it could have been your imagination, barely a flicker at the edge of your vision when you left your night shift on a friday, the faint sound of boots echoing behind you on the sidewalk the next.
the first time you turned, he wasn’t there. the second, you could’ve sworn you saw the edge of that long coat again before he disappeared. the third time, you passed the train station again and saw him standing on the opposite platform, perfectly still, watching. you stopped telling yourself it was a coincidence.
you tried to shake it. you had patients to care for, shifts to survive, a life that didn’t have room for strange men like that. but that certainty shattered the moment you stepped into the dim hallway leading back to the ward.
it was 3 am. the hospital was quieter than your liking again, that strange hour just before dawn when the world felt thinner. you could hear the steady beep of monitors, the shuffle of slippers on tile, the soft hum of the vending machine down the hall. familiar sounds. comforting, in their own way, at least to you.
until you turned the corner. he was there.
leaning against the far wall as if he belonged right there, dressed exactly as you remembered, boots, coat, charcoal shirt. too still, like time didn’t touch him. his eyes found yours instantly, as if he’d been waiting.
your throat went dry. he shouldn’t have been here. visitors weren’t allowed at this hour. you knew every face in this hospital. you knew your patients. but him? he was nowhere and everywhere all at once.
for a few seconds, you froze. blood draining from your face, your legs rooted to the ground. the world narrowed down to him and him only. you swear you wanted nothing more than to speak to him. it was terrifying.
and then a nurse passed between you, muttering about one of your patients, and you didn’t hear a word she said. but when you looked back? he was gone. no trace of him. your heart was leaping out of your chest, both from fear and confusion.
the nurse didn’t say a thing to you about some man. she hadn’t seen him. hadn’t even looked up. maybe you hadn’t either. maybe you were finally losing it. your shifts have been long. longer than usual, and sleep didn’t last long enough.
this wouldn’t be the first time your mind played tricks on you. shadows in hallways, whispered voices, nothing took a toll on you anymore. hospitals had that effect. you’d read about it on reddit, too.
but this time you knew what you saw. you knew what you felt. and it wasn’t this simple. by the time your shift finally ended dawn was creeping in again, the air chilly when you left the hospital. the sun was painting the sky a pale pink, the chilly air damp with the rain.
you got on your train, empty per usual, and when you got off, the sun had risen. it was calming, and for a few minutes, you felt at peace. until you heard footsteps.
boots on pavement. steady. calm footsteps, eerily unhurried, but definitely behind you. first you brushed it off, blaming it on it could be anyone. but when you turned, they turned. when you stopped, they stopped.
you dared yourself not to run. not to sneak a glance. but when you finally looked over your shoulder?
the street was completely empty.
you almost convinced yourself it was over. that he was a hallucination, a ghost the hospital birthed to feed on your exhaustion. until tonight.
it has been a month since you’ve first seen him. the night at the hospital when he was leaning against the wall and then just disappeared into thin air? nothing since then.
the lobby was empty when you finished your shift, the automatic doors whispering open to the cold night air. the city was damp again, lights flickering in puddles on the street. you tightened your coat around yourself, clutching your bag, ready to forget the month entirely.
then you smelled that same scent you hadn’t let yourself think about. the scent you’d almost started to crave without realizing. it hit you like a memory, hit harder than it should have. you looked up. across the street, standing under a flickering streetlamp, he was there.
the coat. the boots. the pale face half in shadow. he wasn’t moving. not a step closer, not a word spoken. just waiting. you tried, really. to not bolt and run. so you did the next best thing your hazy mind could make up, you walked. away. and fast.
his head tilted in your direction slowly, like he’d been waiting for the moment you’d leave. he didn’t move, at least you thought he didn’t, because you were walking so fast, your breath fogging in the cold air, and when you turned down the street, you caught a glimpse.
the edge of his coat, the shine of his boots. he shouldn’t have been that close, not if he hadn’t moved. but there he was, a figure slipping out of the shadows at the end of the street.
your pulse spiked. you kept walking, faster, nearly tripping over your own feet. every time you dared to glance back, you swore he was closer. not running, not rushing, just there. unhurried, inevitable.
you ducked into the first side street you could find, the narrow alley lined with dumpsters and dripping fire escapes. your breath tore out of you in sharp bursts as you pressed yourself against the wall, clutching your bag to your chest.
silence.
just the hum of the city, the hiss of tires on pavement. you risked a peek around the corner. empty. you let out a shaky breath, chest aching. maybe you’d lost him. maybe he hadn’t even followed. and then you smelled it. stronger this time, curling around you like smoke.
you spun back, and your heart dropped. he was in the alley. not moving. not speaking. just standing at the far end, where the shadows were deepest, pale face catching the faint glow of a streetlight. like he’d been there all along, waiting for you to come to him.
your back pressed harder against the brick wall, cold flooding in even through your coat. he didn’t move, just stood there at the other end of the alley, that same crushing stillness holding you in place.
your throat burned with the need to say something, anything, if only to prove you weren’t dreaming. the words scraped out before you could stop them. “what do you want?”
it came out sharper than you intended, edged with fear. your voice echoed too loudly against the narrow walls, like you’d just given yourself away. he tilted his head again, the faintest motion, and in the silence you swore you heard the air shift.
then, finally, his voice. deep. insanely deep. so quiet, and yet it sank into your bones all the same.
“you.”
you let out a choked sob, your body frozen for a second before you ran. you were convinced you were going insane. that this was all made up by your fucked up imagination. but the smell. his voice. it all clouded your judgement so bad that you thought you would need to quit your job.
you ran all the way home, tears running down your face when you finally reached your door.
——
nothings been the same since then. you haven’t been sleeping well, seeing him even in your dreams. you haven’t actually seen him since, not in real life, but he hasn’t left your mind.
things started to turn eerie at the hospital. nurses freaked out but never telling you why, just saying something weird is going on. you shrugged it off, it wasn’t your problem. not until now, atleast.
you moved through your patients rooms one by one, checking vitals, iv lines, scribbling notes on how each of them was feeling.
mr. hollis, eighty, with half a heart left to work with, room 207. nothing could have prepared you for the sight, even if you had been working here for years on end. his heart monitor was dark. flatline. you examined him, closely, but found nothing unusual. except..
he had a purplish bruise on his neck, fading into a light pink at the edges. it was right on his pulse point. his body was already cooling under thin sheets. you brushed it off, at least you tried, like always. you wrote down the time, called the attending. routine.
but you saw the bruising at his throat. you filed it away, somewhere behind “old skin breaks easily” and told yourself not to overthink. you stepped back into the empty hallway to do paperwork. then, the scent hit you. strong.
——
two weeks later, it was mrs. keller. you’d just finished a night round, walking to the last patient, your head heavy with lack of sleep, when you found her. slumped in her chair, knitting needles still tangled in her lap.
her lips had gone gray, her skin pale. you knew before you touched her that she was gone. but when you leaned closer, your stomach turned. the faint, unmistakable bruising at her neck. the same place. the same shape. and again, that scent. his scent. drifting out the window like it wasn’t even there. but it was.
and then another patient maybe a month later, not even one of yours directly, but words spread through the hospital about someone found in the smoking corner. same eerie signs, same bruising.
this time, you’re not the first on the scene. but still the only one who notices the smell.
——
you thought it would end there. that he would still be showing up randomly anywhere in the streets. but now it’s not random. not accidental. he’s always near your appartment. always around the area. when you saw him, same as always, you didn’t look twice. you couldn’t. you kept walking.
but then it happened. again. and again. always when you were getting home. always in the same exact way. staring. still. completely, terrifyingly still.
you knew that if he wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead. you knew he could kill you any time. you had an idea about what he was, and you were convinced he killed the people in the hospital.
and the way he followed you, looked at you, killed people around you, but not you. it was all clicking into place. he wanted you. not to kill, but to have.
——
the sleep came unexpected, quick and feverish. you were still aware of your surroundings, but you didn’t remember when the line between just closing your eyes and drifting off blurred.
the dream didn’t feel like a dream at first. it felt real. you were walking in cold water that came up to your ankles, you didn’t know where it began, or ended. you walked, the water moving with you. the sound drifted into footsteps, and before you had a chance to be confused, you heard it.
“you don’t leave my mind” his voice was everywhere. you felt it. shivers ran down your back, and you turned. there he was. walking just a step closer. the distance between you disappeared within a second.
you blinked, and there he was. he was close enough that you could see his face in detail. his eyes were so sharp that even if you tried you couldn’t look away.
you gulped, unable to move. “i don’t want to hurt you” he spoke quietly. you should have run. screamed. fought. but your body betrayed you completely, your feet rooted exactly there, in the cold water.
your pulse kicked against your neck angrily. he heard it, you saw the way his gaze flicked to your neck, his lips falling apart just an inch. he leaned closer, you could feel him everywhere. his hand hovered near your cheek, but he wasn’t touching. never touching.
you felt pulled, in an unexplainable way. you swallowed, throat thick, and he watched the way your throat bobbed. a shaky breath left him, his mouth so close to your skin you swore you felt his words getting engraved into your bones.
“just one taste” he breathes “you’ll let me, won’t you?” your lips parted, chest rising too fast to say no, and the sound that left you sounded the farthest from refusal you could get out.
then, his mouth was at your throat, warm and perfect, his breath dragging against the thrum of your pulse. the sharpness of his teeth grazed your skin, and you woke up with a gasp.
Pairing: Vampire Daddy Felix x vampire little Reader
Word count: 1221
summary: Y/N is 18 when she got changed, she had a rough youth. And was found by Felix as Y/N laid in an ally. He took her home and found out she was a little and later found out that Y/N was a vampire.
Warning: The readers little isn’t anything sexual. Also it mentions adoption.
written for @vampireskzz, miss you my friend!
Original Date: 27 July 2020
You felt totally weird as you felt hungry, but felt afraid for the humans around you. You curled away in the alley was as the sun was still up and it hurts, you had tried it yesterday, but got burned pretty quickly. You hold your sloth plushy to the chest as you wanted for the sun to be down.
Now it was finally dark, you got out of your curled up spot and holds your plushy closer. You keep on walking and walking, not knowing your destination. You mindlessly walked until you walked into something or rather some one.
You look up and saw a young man standing there, he was pale and wore all black. You quickly turn away from the man. “I’m so sorry sir, I didn’t watch where I was going.”
The man kneels down and ruffles your hair. “No worries sweety, what are you doing here on the street?”
“I don’t know, I don’t remember. I remember mommy and daddy kicking me out. Then I woke up in an alley way sir. Just me and slothy!”
“I have some space for you sweety, you can stay with me tonight.” The man helped you up and you walked towards his house. “What’s your name sweetheart.”
You look at the man with a smile. “Y/N! Sir? Are you going to be my new daddy?”
The question shocked Felix slightly, but he smiled. “You are a little sweetheart?”
You nod. “Yes sir, my older self is 18, but I’m more like a 8 year old.”
Felix nods and holds your hand tightly. “Well then, my name is Felix, but you can call me daddy. I have my home open for people like you.”
You have been living with Felix now for a week. He was very nice and bought you a lot of stuff already.
“Daddy? Can we cuddle and watch some cartoons?” You ask smiling.
Felix nods. “Sure my cute little bat. Go change into your comfy clothes. Baby, I got some rules. With punishment and rewards.”
You nod at Felix and walks to your room. You grab your biggest jumper and your fluffiest panda socks. “Daddy! Can slothy join too?”
“Of course baby.” Felix yelled back as he made the couch ready, with pillows and the fluffiest blankets.
You ran downstairs to Felix and hugs him. “I’m here daddy! Elizabat bit me again last night I my foot! She meanie! Daddy, tell her she can’t do that it hurts.” You pout cuddling into him.
“Yes baby, I tell Elizabat to get out of your room and say out of your bed. Now, let’s cuddle and daddy has something important to say.” Felix lays on the couch and pulls you in his arms.
“Well daddy has decided he want you here and is going to adopt you, but there are rules in this house.” You nod as you cuddles against him, holding the blanket and Slothy close.
“Well the rules. Rule 1, be a good girl. Rule 2, say good morning and goodnight to daddy. Rule 3, don’t do anywhere without daddy. Rule 4, don’t steal any snacks or food. Rule 5, always ask daddy for things. Rule 6, no swearing. Rule 7, don’t scare people away.” You pout at the last part. “Okay daddy.”
Felix nods. “Rewards includes: You can chose your own snack. Play dress up. You can stay up later or Choosing a punishment.”
“Punishments include: Spankings. Soap in your mouth if you say bad things. Earlier bedtime. Grounded. Doing chores or have a time out.”
You nod at Felix again. “I understand daddy! I be your good batsie!”
Felix giggles at your cuteness. “Please stay precious forever!”
He holds you against his chest as you were watching a cartoon. You were nibbling at his arm as you did that often and it made you feel very calm.
You were sitting in your room as Felix had someone over in the house. He didn’t tell you who it was, but only that you needed to stay in your room. As you were obedient you were now in your room. Feeling very bored. Felix had given you a tea set so you can have tea time with your dolls and plushies. He had also giving you a coloring book with crayons and markers.
Today out of all days you were feeling extremely bored and mischievous. The toys that daddy had giving didn’t bring you joy. You looked at the wall and smirked. You grab the markers and started drawing on the wall. You were making a picture of you and daddy. Slothy and Elizabat where there too. You look up the ceiling and saw Elizabat hanging on the chandelier.
“Daddy said you weren’t allowed in here anymore!”
You hissed at the bat, showing your teeth and your eyes turning red, but it quickly turned back. “I’m daddy’s cute little bat! No! No! Meanie! Meanie!” you screamed loudly as Elizabat taked back.
You quickly ran out of the room and hug Felix. “Daddy! Elizabat called me ugly!” You cried out.
Felix wraps his arms around you and lifts you up. “Come baby, I’ll bring you back! I told you not to come out of the room.”
Felix walks into your bedroom and looks even more angry. “You colored the walls too!? You have a coloring book!” he groans out. Elizabat was still making noises.
“Elizabat! Stop it, y/n is not ugly if you keep up this behavior I’m kicking you out! Now get out and y/n stay in here till I say so!” Felix slams the door shut and you started to cry.
“Daddy is being a meanie! Unfair! Unfair!” You said as you threw a tantrum.
Felix walks out. “Sorry for that, that’s my adopted child as you can see the mental age is way below the normal age.” The other man nods and they talked for a while before he needed to leave.
Felix was thinking for a punishment when he thought again about what happened. “Wait… how did my baby knew Elizabat was being mean. They can’t understand that! The nibbling… not wanting snacks?”
Felix jumps up and ran towards your room, slamming the door open. You sat on the bed looking angry at him. Your eyes were glowing red and your small teeth were resting on your under lip. “You are mean daddy!”
Felix gave you a small smile. “Baby? Why didn’t you tell me you were like me. You know I wouldn’t have judged you!”
You look in shock and then shyly looks away, holding both your sloth plushy and a bunny plushy. “Sorry daddy… I was just very, very scared.”
Felix ruffles your hair and pulls you into a hug. “This give the definition of stay precious forever a whole other meaning.”
You smiled at Felix and cuddles against him. “Sorry daddy, for drawing on the wall and leave the room without your permission.”
“It’s okay my cute little bat.” He gently kisses your head and lays your head against his chest. “Yeah daddy! Cute little bat! Rawr!” You growled cutely and showed your small vampire teeth.
“Our little family! Just daddy with his cute little bat. Now it’s nap time baby.” You nod and closed your eyes. The warmth of Felix was enough to lullaby you to sleep.
A dense smoky fog blankets the ground as you navigate through it, obscuring everything but the silhouette of barren trees in the distance. Their branches reach out like grasping fingers, lending an air of malevolence to the journey. It feels as though every element of the landscape is vying for a piece of your soul.
The vampires, purportedly devoid of soul, remain unaffected by the eerie atmosphere. Jisung, however, betrays his unease by idly rubbing his amulet between his fingers. Though he maintains his stoic facade, a flicker of apprehension glimmers in his eyes as he catches your gaze. His smile is unfamiliar, lacking its usual warmth—it's akin to the polite nod given to a stranger who holds open a door.
This isn't the Jisung you're accustomed to.
Time is running short for Jisung. He's almost resigned to his fate, harboring a faint hope for a swift, painless end once this journey concludes. The prospect of returning home to face the slow decay of his essence over the remaining years weighs on him.
Thoughts of his long-lost fiancée flit through his mind. He's yet to encounter her in his frequent visits to the afterlife, but perhaps he'll spend his eternity seeking her out instead of perpetually evading death.
A tender glance at your stomach reveals his excitement at the thought of becoming an uncle. Even though he likely won't be around to see it happen, he finds comfort in knowing that your child will carry his legacy through their magical bloodline.
Someday, they'll cross paths again.
The dark aura emanating from the coyote demon casts a shadow over the group. The silence is difficult to tolerate in its absolute stillness. Wasn't this supposed to be the most dangerous part of the journey? Only a day ago, you were under siege by demons, yet now, on the brink of the final stretch, there's nothing.
Certainly, if there were something in the distance, any one of the supernatural creatures on your sides would be able to detect it.
Hyunjin listens to the crunch of twigs under his feet, lost in his thoughts. He ponders his mother's cryptic words, wondering if tonight will mark the loss of one of his brothers. Maybe even you. Hyunjin had grown incredibly fond of you, and you had earned his loyalty by rescuing him.
Hyunjin even entertains the idea that it should be him instead. Many uncertainties plague his mind. Returning to the mortal world has been a jarring experience, and true peace eludes him. Hyunjin wonders if he'll ever find any sort of peace, or if this perpetual unrest is his eternal atonement for past sins.
"Hold on, you see that?" Chan's voice breaks through Hyunjin's runaway train of thought, directing everyone's attention to a sudden clearing that appears before you, seemingly out of nowhere. The forest, dense and forbidding just moments ago, now yields to an expansive open space. The nearby sounds of water reach your ears, and squinting reveals the clearing's boundary—a cliff shrouded in thick fog. The archway formed by the bending trees at the cliff's edge invites them to peer beyond, where the natural sky seems to disappear. The impending sunrise has vanished from view, leaving behind a darkness that blankets the forest in a timeless haze.
"This must be it, I can feel it." Santiago declares, drawing a deep breath as he surveys their surroundings, his senses on high alert despite his formidable power. He didn't clue anyone else in on it, but he had a strange feeling that they were being followed the last hour of travel. When nobody else made note of it, he attributed it to the twisted curse of this place and let it go.
Is this Abysmora? Or does it lie beyond this mysterious veil of smoke?
You wrap your arms around yourself tightly, a surge of nausea unsettling your stomach.
"What did you say?" Chan's concerned voice breaks through your thoughts as he turns to check on you, his expression puzzled by a sound he thought he heard.
"I didn't say anything," you reply, feeling perplexed. Had your thoughts accidentally slipped out aloud?
"Weird. I could've sworn I heard something," Chan mutters, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"Maybe your mind's playing tricks on you," Jisung suggests, joining the conversation. "I didn't hear anything either."
Chan is still skeptical, approaching you with a frown. He squats down to press his ear against your stomach, and you allow the gesture, gently resting your hand on his head, the weight of the moment heavy amidst the strangeness of the situation. Standing up, he scans the group, finding no confirmation of his earlier perception.
"Nobody else heard it?" he asks, met with shaking heads all around, including yours.
"In Abysmora, believe only half of what you see and nothing you hear," Santiago advises, breaking the tension. "I don't wanna tempt Fate; she can be cynical. We have to pay the Coyote demon before we cross over."
You avoid eye contact as Santiago looks at you again, instead averting your eyes to the coyote demon close to the water. Somehow, your anger has shed it's skin to reveal your fragile hurt. You wonder why you aren't worthy of the truth from him, even now, after all you had accomplished.
The sight of your mysterious guide at the cliff's edge draws your attention like a moth to a flame. It hovers there, a few inches above the ground, an enigmatic presence, its form shrouded in shadow. Despite its lack of eyes, it seems to peer intently at the ground below, as if deciphering some hidden message written in the earth itself. The air around it crackles with an otherworldly energy, adding to its mystique as it stands sentinel at the edge of the abyss.
"I'm sorry, pay him? With what?" Jisung's voice rings with alarm.
"What do you think, my friend?" Santiago responds, unsheathing his knife. "Our life force." With determined steps, he approaches the coyote demon, and the rest of the group follows suit. It remains unfazed, its attention fixed firmly on the ground. You cling tighter to Chan, who slows to let you grip his arm.
With a wave of its bony hand over the water's edge, a makeshift raft emerges from the foamy stream. It appears flimsy, like a discarded piece of construction material, hardly capable of supporting its own weight, let alone the rush of the rapids with you all atop it. Yet, it remains steady, held aloft by the coyote demon's power. Santiago steps forward first, slicing his palm and allowing blood to spill onto the demon's outstretched hand. Every drop is absorbed without a trace, prompting Felix to follow suit, eyeing the demon warily before adding his own sacrifice. Jisung, surprisingly, steps up next, his usually cautious demeanor overshadowed by the gravity of the situation.
Hyunjin's turn comes next, and as you and Chan approach, a sense of dread begins to well up within you. The fear seems to seep from the ground itself, creeping up your legs and constricting your throat.
Chan, hearing something again, looks down at you, his expression troubled. It's a sound he can't quite place, like a whisper in his mind, indecipherable yet unsettling. He blames it on Abysmora's influence, steeling himself against its effects as he watches Hyunjin make his offering.
As you and Chan present your own blood sacrifices, the sting of the cut fades, replaced by a tingling sensation that signifies rapid healing. Chan pulls you close, whispering words of reassurance as he guides you onto the raft. "I think she's helping you," he murmurs, speaking of the unborn child you two share and her mysterious powers. You wish those powers could alleviate the nausea that still lingers, but as if in response to your wish, the sickness vanishes without a trace.
Jisung's voice trembles with a mix of anxiety and bravado as he settles onto the raft. "How sure are we that we’re gonna survive this waterfall drop?" he asks, his words filled with a nervous energy.
Santiago's response cuts through the tension. "You're asking the wrong questions," he declares cryptically.
“I’m still in a mortal body that has never been to Abysmora, about to go over a waterfall, what questions am I supposed to be asking right now?”
Perched on the edge of uncertainty, you suppress a chuckle at Jisung's retort, stealing a glance at Felix, who struggles to conceal his amusement behind clenched lips.
“The toll is paid.”
With a final decree from the coyote demon, the atmosphere shifts. The ethereal guide dissolves into obsidian mist, and in an instant, the raft is swept into the rushing current.
Chan's arms encircle you protectively as you bury your head in his chest. His embrace offers a semblance of security, though beneath the surface, fear lies in wait in his veins. It's not the fear of death that grips him, but the fear of loss—of you, of his brothers, Jisung; of the life he's only just begun to consider worth living.
Chan yearns to utter words of comfort, to quell the storm raging within you.
Casting a sidelong glance toward Hyunjin, he extends a tentative gesture of affection, seeking to bridge the chasm between them. Though initially stiff under the weight of fraternal embrace, Hyunjin gradually yields to Chan's touch.
Across the raft, Felix's gaze meets Chan's in a quiet exchange. But before their unspoken bond can solidify, in an instant, the world tilts on its axis as the raft hurtles over the precipice, plunging into the yawning abyss below.
For a heart-stopping moment, gravity claims dominion, and the sensation of free fall grips you all. The wind whips around you, snatching at your clothes, your hair, as you all hurtle downward into the void.
But just as suddenly as it began, the vertiginous descent comes to a halt. The world around you seems to freeze, time itself holding its breath as the raft settles into the stillness of Abysmora's dark embrace.
"Fucking Hell—" Felix's expletive pierces the air, jolting you from your reverie.
"Jisung, little witch, are you—" He begins to ask, worrying for the mortal passengers.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. You?" Jisung's voice wavers with the remnants of adrenaline.
"I'm... still here," you manage, your voice a fragile whisper amidst the chaos that surrounds you.
Chan's senses begin getting assaulted by a familiar itch—a primal instinct clawing at the edges of his consciousness.
Surely, he’s not going to turn? Not now? Not like this?
The same inexplicable murmur tugs at Chan's senses once more, this time drawing his attention squarely to your stomach. An involuntary pang of tenderness wells up within him, a protective instinct he struggles to suppress. And for that second, perhaps two, he doesn't feel his monster trying to come up for air. With a will of its own, his gaze flits away, his jaw clenching with the effort to regain control.
‘Abysmora is playing tricks on my mind,’ Chan reminds himself sternly, his thoughts a tumultuous whirlwind of uncertainty. He grapples with the realization that, in this strange realm, he may not be able to shield you and his daughter as he wishes.
But the memory of Amelia, her sacrifice, cuts through the haze of his thoughts like a knife to the heart. He can still feel her absence, a haunting guilt for the price paid for their survival. Chan's arms wrap tightly around himself, his fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket in a desperate attempt to anchor himself in the present, to get out of his own head, to banish the ghosts of the past that threaten to consume him.
The raft creeps languidly through the dense, murky waters, now a deep, suffocating shade of purple that seems to swallow light rather than reflect it. The waters are calm, yet their opacity hints at untold depths and secrets submerged beneath. Small islets punctuate the expanse like broken teeth, each hosting clusters of weathered gravestones that stand as silent keepers of forgotten lives. Some stones are cloaked in a dense mantle of moss, their inscriptions eroded by time, while others lean precariously, half-engulfed by the encroaching, swamp-like embrace of the water.
The air itself seems to congeal around you, infected with a sense of despair and decay.
As the raft drifts aimlessly, a disturbing ambiance pervades, heightened by the mist that clings to every surface, weaving through the air like the breath of the isle itself. This mist carries with it an odor so foul, a blend of rotting flesh, sulfur and damp, decayed wood, that it assaults the senses, a physical manifestation of the corruption that seeps from the very soil of this place.
“Oh God, I- I don’t feel good–” Jisung body convulses slightly as he heaves over the side of the raft, expelling a noxious, black substance—a memory of his earlier possession. The sight is disturbingly out of place against the backdrop of unnatural stillness that surrounds you. He coughs violently, a raw, hacking sound that seems too loud in the oppressive silence, wiping his mouth with a shaky hand, his expression one of revulsion and deep unease.
He speaks, his voice barely above a whisper, but it's clear the very air of Abysmora is anathema to him, a venom to his senses. “I can’t…I don’t think I can be here very long.”
"I don’t think any of us can…” Felix's voice carries his concern, tasting the bitterness of the venom in his mouth, something he hasn't felt in a long time. Swallowing becomes a chore as the acrid taste spreads, worsening his already noticeable thirst. He keeps his discomfort to himself, knowing his brothers need him now more than ever. Despite the absence of the Full Moon tonight, Abysmora's sky holds no celestial bodies, just an endless void stretching upward into an unseen realm.
“Where’s Santiago?”
The question of Santiago's whereabouts lingers, as you survey the desolate landscape. Memories of the heated argument with him resurface his words cutting deep. Could he have abandoned the group at the gate, his duty fulfilled by merely delivering you to Abysmora? The worry eats at you, the fear that your past conflicts might have jeopardized the journey for everyone, with no guide to navigate the treacherous unknown ahead.
None of you have any experience in Abysmora, a daunting realization. It's a frightening thought, to be on an even playing field with some of the strongest creatures you’ve come to know, and all the while carrying your first child.
In truth, Hyunjin has rejected the idea of forming an alliance with Santiago for some time, ever since he inadvertently overheard the conversation back at Lysandra's. Despite the pressing need to focus on capturing Santiago after the Blood Bloom, time constraints forced the brothers to prioritize other tasks. However, with Santiago's sudden disappearance, urgency seeps into their thoughts, amplifying their concerns.
Finally, the raft nudges against the mainland with a soft, almost imperceptible thud, coming to rest at the edge of a larger isle. Here, the tombs are more imposing, grander in their decay, arranged in a deliberate circle that borders the perimeter.
These larger mausoleums and monuments loom like giants, their shadows casting long, dark fingers across the ground as if to welcome—or warn—any who dare to trespass. It feels even heavier here, if possible, threaded with a history of sorrow and darkness that permeates the very ground upon which you’re about to stand.
"No time to figure it out," Chan declares, rising to his feet, his actions prompting the others to follow suit. Stepping onto the mainland, he extends a hand to assist you ashore. Meanwhile, Hyunjin swiftly rips off and repurposes the hood of his jacket into a makeshift mask, covering Jisung's nose and mouth for protection.
“There you are!” Santiago turns the corner of a mausoleum and lays eyes on you. He seems out of breath, worked up as he shakes his head, catching up with everyone.
And yet, despite his outward appearance of concern, there’s a flicker of something in his eyes that doesn’t quite match his urgency—a subtle shift in demeanor that leaves you feeling uneasy in his presence. You hadn’t felt this just moments earlier getting on the raft with him.
“How did we get separated?” Santiago asks.
You are the first to answer, unaware of the suspicions of everyone else and just relieved to see another familiar face again. Though, that nagging doubt gnaws at your mind, whispering of the questions surrounding his sudden reappearance.
You wonder if Abysmora is playing mind tricks on you too?
“No idea, but we’re all here, Jisung’s getting sick, we’ve gotta get the Blood Bloom and get out of here.” You look around, “But where is it?”
"In there." Santiago's gesture directs your attention to a towering statue of a knight, its sword thrust upward toward the darkened sky. "It's always inside the tomb of the One, the very first of our kind." Santiago approaches the statue, touching it with reverence, in a way that strikes you as odd, because it’s as if he hasn’t seen it before, and Santiago said he had taken prior trips to Abysmora, albeit via other routes.
He must know what the tomb of the “One” looks like? Right?
Muttering under his breath in an unfamiliar tongue, Santiago circles the statue, his intent clear as he seeks a means of entry.
Felix, ever perceptive, senses a subtle shift in Santiago's aura. Vampires as ancient as he can detect things far beyond micro expressions in mortal faces, no matter what’s wearing the skin. It’s how they can tell when something isn’t exactly human, or when mortals lie. Yet, this time, something feels different. Is Santiago under some form of influence? What drives him to lead them into the depths of this tomb? He hears the spells the archdemon chants but doesn’t recognize the tongue.
"Where did you land?" Felix's inquiry interrupts Santiago's prayer, prompting him to refocus his attention. As you join in the search, kneeling amidst the moist earth, the ground squirms with repulsive creatures disturbed from their slumber by your intrusion.
"Land?" Santiago straightens up, his confusion evident. "I just woke up behind that grave," he gestures toward a nearby tomb. "I have no idea what happened." His explanation is abruptly interrupted by Jisung's retching, the soul of this environment taking its toll on him once more. As Jisung lifts his makeshift mask to expel another bout of black, putrid vomit onto the soil, Santiago's attention remains fixated on unlocking the tomb's secrets.
Hyunjin, growing impatient, voices his concern, stepping back to avoid the splatter onto his shoes with a lifted brow. "Can't you do something about him? We can't exactly conjure."
"It's my bloodline—" Jisung's words are punctuated by another fit of dry heaving. "I can't—my body—"
You spring into action, rushing to Jisung's side with mounting worry. His suffering raises questions about the influence of this place, and you fear for the well-being of his soul.
"Jisung, tell me what to do," you plead, desperation clear in your voice as he struggles for breath. But Jisung, consumed by his own distress, cannot offer guidance. With trembling hands, you place your palm against his stomach, channeling an unfamiliar power in a desperate attempt to alleviate his suffering. As your energy flows into his body, Jisung convulses one last time before finding his breath returning in ragged gasps.
Santiago stays oblivious to the commotion around him, his concentration fixed on the statue, lost in prayer with closed eyes. Meanwhile, Hyunjin's attention wavers as he catches the scent of blood emanating from your ear, a telltale sign of overuse of your conjure. His sudden cough startles you, drawing curious glances from his brothers as he hurriedly wipes his nose, trying to conceal his reaction. The scent reaches Felix next, prompting you to check yourself, and your fingers come away stained with blood. Panic sets in as you hastily wipe your neck with your hoodie sleeve, inadvertently spreading the stain further into the fabric.
You’ve made it so much worse, and you don’t even know it.
"This can't be what I think it is," Chan says as he uncovers something amidst the infested soil. He holds up a fragment that appears to be from a golden beret, the gold melted over one of the encased jewels, evidence of a failed attempt at destruction. "Do you see this or am I imagining things?"
Felix's heart races as he snatches the fragment from his brother's hand, his senses heightened to every sound, every scent around him. "This is it, this is... I have no doubt," he declares, his voice tight with apprehension. He turns to Hyunjin, whose eyes are fixed on the cursed fragment a few feet away. But instead of their usual crystal blue, they shimmer with a bright amber hue, a telltale sign of a loss of control. Hyunjin shuts his eyes tightly, fighting against the onslaught of disturbing images flooding his mind. He feels the creeping sensation of tiny toothed imps devouring his flesh in the depths of Purgatory, a sensation he fights against with every fiber of his being. Is it the curse or is it just him?
Passing the fragment to Chan, Felix approaches Hyunjin; and he gently shakes his younger brother from his trance, their eyes meet, and Felix is struck by the vulnerability in those familiar baby blues, a contrast to the centuries of resilience he's come to expect.
"Brother, what’s—how do you feel?" Felix's voice is soft, a rare tenderness breaking through his usual stoicism. He sees the innocence in Hyunjin once more, a vulnerable human amidst the vast expanse of their immortal existence.
“Afraid, brother,” Hyunjin confesses, his voice laced with raw emotion. He blinks back the bitterness in his eyes, unable to maintain the eye contact with Felix. “I can’t go through this again. I–I can’t, I’ll die, Felix. I’ll die first.”
Felix's voice cuts through the chaos, gentle yet firm, as he addresses his brother. "Hey now," he begins, his words carrying a sense of his own certainty, a vow to himself amidst the uncertainty surrounding them.
"I’ll die before you go through that again."
Hyunjin meets Felix's gaze, feeling a rush of emotions within him. Even that has become foreign after being gone for so long; feeling emotions he'd forgotten the weight of. In that moment of silent connection, he senses the weight of their bond, built over countless centuries of shared trials and unspoken understanding. Despite the shadows of their tumultuous past looming over them, Hyunjin finds safety in the unwavering intensity of Felix's gaze, a silent promise of protection and support. This rediscovered depth in their relationship speaks volumes, highlighting the profound significance they both place on each other's well-being.
━━━━━━━━
The tension in the room is filled with anger and resentment as Chan confronts his younger brother, his voice echoing off the stone walls. Hyunjin's defiance matches his elder sibling's intensity, his eyes ablaze with righteous fury.
"Are you mad, brother?! You're in bloodlust!" Chan's words cut through the air like a whip, each syllable dripping with disbelief and frustration. He can't comprehend Hyunjin's actions, can't fathom the depths of his rage.
"Now you've killed her son?! Amelia's brother?!" Chan's accusation hangs in the air, a damning indictment of Hyunjin's actions.
"Did her mother not take our parents from us first?!" Hyunjin's retort is sharp, laced with bitterness and grief. To him, his actions are justified, a reckoning for the injustices inflicted upon their family.
But Chan's anger simmers, threatening to boil over as he struggles to contain his emotions. With a roar of frustration, he hurls a nearby chair against the wall, the sound of splintering wood punctuating the heated exchange.
"Those were my parents too," Chan's voice is raw with emotion, his eyes flashing with a mix of pain and fury. "Do you not think me furious as well? Do you doubt that I too, want to drink from their hearts and watch them fall to my feet?!"
Hyunjin stands his ground, undeterred by his brother's outburst. He remains unshaken, fueled by a burning desire for justice.
"Yes, Christophe, I do!" Hyunjin's words are a challenge, a testament to his unwavering conviction. "I doubt you want to do anything more than run with your tail between your legs, defending a traitorous witch, the very daughter of the woman who murdered our parents!"
Meanwhile, on the other side of the closed door, Amelia stands frozen, her hand hovering over the doorknob. A cool hand touches her shoulder, and she turns to find Felix by her side. His silent guidance urges her to stay back, to let the brothers work through their grievances without interference.
As they move a few steps away from the door, Amelia embraces him, softly crying into the fabric of his blouse. Felix's thoughts churn with concern. The arguments between his brothers have become more frequent, fueled by Hyunjin's growing impatience and resentment. His thirst for vengeance risks engulfing him, driving them to move twice in the last four months alone.
Felix knows Hyunjin cannot be contained, his actions driven by a primal need for retribution. Yet, despite his own fury towards Amelia's family, he understands the futility of their situation. They are newborn vampires--outnumbered, outmatched, and outsmarted without a plan.
But what troubles Felix the most is Chan's hesitance, his reluctance to act. And as they stand in silence, away from the fight unfolding on the other side of the door, Felix can't shake the feeling that something is amiss, something he can't quite put his finger on…
━━━━━━━━
"Santiago," Chan's voice cuts through the tension, his gaze fixed on the archdemon who is still engrossed in his task. With each passing moment, Santiago's words grow more rapid, fueled by a sense of passion that borders on obsession. Chan moves closer, reaching out to get Santiago's attention. "Santiago, hey–"
The statue begins to shift, its movement accompanied by the harsh scraping of rock and the unsettling rumble of the earth beneath their feet. Hissing echoes around you as the creatures in the soil turn aggressive, some leaping into the air with fangs bared. Hyunjin reacts swiftly, his movements a blur as he dispatches several of the creatures with deadly precision.
"Protect this at all costs," Chan's command is clear and direct as he locks eyes with you, a brief flash of amber in his gaze before he blinks it away. He presses the beret fragment into your hand, urging you to keep it safe.
“Come on, hurry!” Santiago hurries down the stairs into the tomb. You tuck the fragment into your bra and the rest of you have no time to think, and you follow behind, risking the chance that being in the tomb of the very first demon in creation would be safer than being on Abysmora's grounds, exposed.
If there was anything lurking in this strange place, they certainly know they have unwelcome visitors now.
Jisung's condition noticeably improves as the darkness envelops them, the sickness that had plagued him fading into the blackness. Yet, amidst the near pitch-black surroundings, a distant blue glow emanates from a room at the far end of the underground tunnel. Backed by a surge of adrenaline, you act swiftly, your fingers darting like arrows to ignite the sconces along the walls. Each flame catches, casting a blue hue that bathes the chamber in its glow.
As the dim blue glow from the sconces barely penetrates the darkness, Jisung finds himself momentarily awed by your ingenuity. But any sense of accomplishment is swiftly overshadowed by the atmosphere closing in around you. The tomb of the first demon ever to exist feels suffocating, each breath tainted by the heavy, musty scent of centuries past. With each inhale, Jisung's heart flutters nervously.
In an attempt to summon his conjure to navigate the path ahead, Jisung encounters an unexpected resistance, as though an invisible force is constricting his abilities. A dryness creeps into his mouth, he can’t be powerless yet?! How is this possible?! You were able to light the way without hesitation.
"Now what?" You whisper, your voice barely audible over the silence. Turning to seek guidance from Santiago, you find him vanished once more.
"What the–"
"Little witch, we can’t trust him," Felix's voice cuts through the darkness, his hand pulling you closer to the rough stone wall for protection.
"But he said–"
"It doesn’t matter what he’s said," Felix's tone is firm, his words tinged with urgency. "We can’t trust him."
With no other options available, Hyunjin strides ahead, his figure disappearing into the hallway, with Jisung following closely behind. There is no turning back now, no room for hesitation. You’ve come too far to retreat, your only choice is to press onward.
The confines of the tomb seem to be closing in on Chan, the primal instincts of his wolf beginning to overwhelm him. Sensing the impending shift, he knows he must act quickly, not willing to risk losing control in such close quarters, especially with you nearby.
With a determined step backward, Chan starts to unzip his hoodie, preparing for the inevitable transformation. His voice carries a note of urgency as he speaks to Felix, his brother, and you. "Felix, you and little witch go on ahead with the others. I’ll catch up with you soon."
Felix puts his arm around your shoulders and obeys his elder brother’s command.
As Chan's metamorphosis reverberates through the ancient confines of the tomb, each sinewy shift heralds the awakening of primordial forces. A chill snakes down your spine at the power unleashed, but with Felix's presence guiding you onward, there's little room for fear, only purpose.
Stepping into the chamber's heart, you feel a lack of control, like you've stepped into public in the nude. This feeling sticks to you as if you're an insect on fly paper, the discomfort follows you. Your gaze is drawn to the raised platform, where a mummified figure cradles a flower in its desiccated grasp. Against the backdrop of darkness, the bloom's vibrant hues stand in defiance, its petals swirling in an ethereal dance.
On the opposite end, Jisung stands watchful, his focus unwavering as he hovers over the coffin. Bathed in the soft azure glow of the chandelier above, the scene unfolds like a tableau of strange beauty, casting shadows that dance across the chamber's walls.
Your breath catches as you draw near, the allure of the flower irresistible. Its petals, delicate yet sinuous, seem to pulse with a life of their own, their crimson hue a vivid sign of its unearthly vitality. And at the heart, a pool of crimson gleams with luminescence, a symbol of the bloom's power.
"This is it," you murmur, your voice a mere whisper amidst the hallowed silence of the tomb. "The Blood Bloom."
Jisung's brows furrow in disbelief, his head shaking in denial. “The legend I remember said it grows in the soil of Abysmora…”
Despite his hesitance, he leans forward, sensing the same energy that grips you both.
As a sudden stillness envelops the chamber, Jisung's instincts flare, a warning pulsing through his veins. With a sense of alarm, he whirls around, calling out for his missing companions. "Felix? Hyunjin?" His voice echoes off the stone walls, met only by silence.
Your palms grow clammy, fear prickling at the nape of your neck. "What's happening? What's wrong?" you stammer.
"Oh look, you found it!"
Santiago's voice cuts through the tension, his arrival heralded by a sense of impending doom. Panic floods your veins as you instinctively back away, only to be ensnared by a vice-like grip from behind. Your breath catches in your throat, your thoughts racing to the safety of your unborn child, as fear tightens its grip on your heart.
"H-Hyunjin..." The name escapes your lips in a breathless whisper, finally realizing the scent. Your body tenses, every nerve on edge as you struggle to keep your composure.
Before Jisung can react, Felix is upon him, his strength overwhelming as he wrestles the younger man into submission. You look to Santiago, the sight before you twisting your stomach into knots. His head lolls to the side with a sickening crack, a grotesque contortion of flesh and bone. As his eyes roll back into his skull, his skin begins to slough off like molten wax, revealing a smaller, naked figure beneath.
This new form is like something out of a nightmare, its skin slick with a viscous substance that oozes and drips. The creature's features are twisted and deformed, elongated limbs and sharp, angular joints giving it a disturbed appearance. Its eyes, once human, now gleam with a endless black, reflecting the depths of its sinister nature.
As the demon's gaze fixes upon you, a shiver runs down your spine, fear gripping you with icy fingers. As Jisung struggles against Felix's overpowering grip, his frustration mounts with each futile attempt to break free. Heat radiates from his palms, a manifestation of his inner turmoil, but it's as if an invisible barrier stifles his efforts, rendering his conjure useless.
“The audacity only a Han would have, trying to use your conjure here, now don’t you know better? Then again, you want to die, don’t you?” The demon's voice drips with malice, taunting Jisung with cruel words.
Jisung refuses to dignify the demon's words with a response, his jaw clenched tight in defiance. Beneath his poker face, a sort of fear dances in his eyes. The demon's insight and access into his psyche unnerves him, exposing vulnerabilities he'd rather keep hidden.
“I have a name, you know.” The demon's grin widens, revealing a mouth lined with jagged, razor-sharp teeth. “Do you want to know it?”
“Oliver,” you breathe, the name escaping your lips like a curse, triggering a flood of memories from your night terrors that you'd rather forget.
"She's smart, isn't she?" Oliver's voice drips with malicious intent, each word laced with venomous glee. The knowledge that you know his name seems to egg on his perverse joy, a sickening trophy of the power he holds over you, a feeling he rarely gets to feel in his own existence. In the dimly lit chamber, his grin casts twisted shadows across the walls.
As your gaze darts nervously around the room, searching for any sign of escape, the sound of sloshing footsteps draws your attention to another presence lurking in the shadows. With a sickening lurch of your stomach, you realize that you're not alone, the presence of another demon sending a wave of fear over you.
The unnamed demon drags a large and furry form into the chamber, its tortured cries echoing off the walls as it's callously thrown against the unforgiving stone. Your heart sinks in your chest at the sight.
"NO!" Your voice rings out in a desperate plea, the words torn from your throat in a frantic rush. "Hyunjin, let go of me! Stop! This isn't you! That's your brother! Felix! Felix, it's me! Y/N! You're stronger than this! All of you are!" But your cries fall on deaf ears, drowned out by the cruel laughter of the demons that surround you.
"Chan—Chan, please," you plead, your voice barely a whisper amidst the chaos unfolding around you. Exhausted and defeated, you sink to the ground, your body wracked with sobs as despair threatens to eat you alive and spit you back out with no remorse.
"Y/N, stop," Jisung's voice cuts through the noise, his tone firm as he locks eyes with you from across the room. His gaze speaks volumes, silently urging you to quell your desperate pleas. In this moment of peril, communication is reduced to silent exchanges, a shared understanding passing between you both.
With a deep breath, you stifle your cries, recognizing the urgency of the situation. Any hope of escape hinges on maintaining composure, lest you risk losing control of your conjure before it can be wielded as a weapon against your captors.
Exhausted and defeated, you offer no resistance as Hyunjin releases his grip, allowing your body to crumple to the ground. His derisive laughter rings in your ears.
Meanwhile, Oliver's attention drifts to the Blood Bloom, his excitement obvious as he revels in the discovery.
“They really found it, the Blood Bloom!” His voice echoes through the chamber, a frenzied tirade of anticipation as he fixates on the object of his obsession. But his excitement is short-lived, abruptly cut off by a sudden surge of malice directed at the lesser demon.
"What are you waiting for?! Bring the Mistress!" Oliver commands, his impatience boiling over as he demands action. With a hurried nod, the lesser demon scurries away, his footsteps fading into the distance as he disappears into the darkness.
Lying on the dirt-covered brick floor, you succumb to silent tears, the weight of anguish pressing down on you like a leaden blanket. With jittery hands, you crawl forward, the distance between you and the wolf reduced to mere inches. As you nestle your face into the coarse fur of the muzzle, a gentle warmth caresses you, soothing the raw edges of your fractured spirit.
Suddenly, in the darkness, amidst the faint scent of earths and decay, you feel it—a tender brush against your nose, followed by two more delicate licks. Slowly, you open your eyes, greeted by the shimmering gold orbs of the wolf before you. It's a curious sight, this peculiar hue, but within those luminous windows to his soul, you find an unexpected solace—a glimmer of Chan's inherent spirit shining through.
You continue to feign distress, your sobs a desperate symphony masking the turmoil within. Each movement is calculated, every tremor carefully choreographed to draw attention away from your clandestine actions. Your fingers venture into the wolf's mouth, inching closer to the razor-sharp teeth that threaten to sever skin from bone.
As your wrist hovers over the waiting fangs, fear coils in the pit of your stomach, a visceral reminder of the perilous dance you've chosen to partake in. But you steel yourself against the rising tide of panic, a vow echoing in the recesses of your mind.
You'll fight tooth and nail, even if it means staring death in the face, for you know that within the pits of Hell lies the flickering ember of hope.
With a nod of assent, Chan's lip twitches in acknowledgment, a fleeting moment of connection. As he closes his jaws with painstaking care, the taste of blood blooms in his mouth, on his tongue, along his gums. Through gritted teeth, you endure the searing pain.
Jisung's mind races as he formulates a plan to wrest control from the clutches of Oliver. With each passing second, the grip of the demon's influence tightens around the minds of Felix and Hyunjin, reducing them to mere marionettes in this macabre play.
"Felix," Jisung breathes, barely audible in the hushed chamber, "Can you hear me?"
The vice-like hold tightens, and Felix's response echoes through the silence.
"Loud and clear, mate," he replies, the words filled with a predatory glee that reminds Jisung of exactly how different they really are from one another when it comes down to being factory reset to pure instinct.
‘Shit’. A curse punctuates Jisung's thoughts; reaching them in this state seems impossible. Oliver's conjure has rewritten their essence, transforming them into instruments of darkness. To break this unholy connection, the source needs to be severed, and at this moment, Oliver stands as the puppeteer, feeble or not.
As Chan discreetly drinks from you in his wolf form, Jisung's mind churns with frustration, the invisible chains of restraint still boggling him. 'If he has me restrained, there must be a physical block somewhere' he muses, a spark of realization flickering to life amidst the darkness. 'So how is he doing it? Where is it?'
A sweeping glance around the chamber reveals the answer, hidden in plain sight. The talismans, hanging down from the ropes strung along the ceiling, catch Jisung's attention. They're no ordinary charms; they bear the unmistakable markings of Korean origin, Bujeok, but warped and twisted into a perversion of their intended purpose.
These were crafted with him in mind, designed to stifle his magic and render him powerless.
'Bingo'
He knows what he must do to break free from Oliver's grip, to reclaim control and turn the tide of this deadly game.
Jisung's words slice through the air with a cunning edge as he probes for weaknesses in Oliver's facade. "Possessing the minds of vampires is light work, what’d you do, a blood bind of some sort?" he questions, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Oliver's response is swift, a mixture of amusement and hubris. "Well, aren’t you an arrogant little witch?" he retorts, unknowingly stepping right into Jisung's trap. "Demons do more than blood bind to have others do our bidding."
A smirk plays at the corners of Jisung's lips as he goads Oliver further. "I guess you haven’t figured out how to get a Han to do your bidding though, so you had to use these guys," he gestures disdainfully toward the vampire restraining him. "I mean, I get it though, you don’t look capable of doing it yourself."
You listen with bated breath, the cool touch of the earth grounding you while Chan's watchful eyes mirror your own tenacity.
With calculated steps, Oliver descends from the platform, each movement purposeful and deliberate. A glint of steel catches the dim light as he approaches Jisung. As the blade he wields grazes Jisung's cheek, a thin rivulet of blood appears, tracing a crimson path down his face. Oliver steps back, grinning while Felix looms ominously behind Jisung.
In a mocking tone, Oliver scoffs, "Miss Edith couldn't care less about the likes of you."
Despite the threat at his neck, Jisung remains steadfast, his gaze averted from Felix's predatory presence. "You're a bad liar," he counters, a beacon of defiance in the face of imminent danger.
Oliver's smirk fades into a scowl. "I'll have your best friend drain you dry until you're nothing but a lifeless husk."
Jisung's laughter rings out, carrying a hint of madness. “Yeah, but then you’ll have a mighty angry vampire that can conjure on your hands, and how will you handle that? Oh fuck, you can’t--”
“You’ll just piss off your Mistress, and I get the feeling that’s a habit of yours—what was your name again?”
The demon's rage is evident, his fists clenched at his sides as he discards the knife, the sound of its impact echoing through the chamber as it hits the ground. His bluff has been called; a demon under another's command lacks the authority to make unilateral decisions, especially ones as significant as ending the lives of captives. Captives that they’ve taken the time to carefully ward against.
For reasons unknown, they need him alive, at least for the time being.
"You'll regret this," Oliver seethes, his departure swift as he hurries to investigate the delay in the other demon's return, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the chamber.
Hyunjin stands frozen, his gaze vacant, like a puppet abandoned by its puppeteer. Felix, unmoving, maintains his vice-like hold around Jisung, his thoughts seemingly distant despite his physical grasp.
With resolve sparking in your weary eyes, you snatch up the knife, ready to act.
"Little witch, hurry," Jisung urges, his voice barely above a whisper, directing your attention to the talismans hanging from the ceiling. "Cut them down—they're sapping our power."
You swiftly ascend the stone platforms, a strength from an unknown place guiding your every move as you slice through the ropes with the knife. With each talisman that falls, dissipating into wisps of blue smoke, a surge of hope fills the air. Chan, his wolf form a blur, disappears into the darkness, tracking the demons' elusive trail. Your focus wavers momentarily, but Jisung's urgent plea snaps you back to the task at hand.
"No time, keep going!" he insists, spurring you onward. With steady hands, you continue your circuit around the room, severing the final ropes. Jisung, eyes closed in concentration, channels his purifying energy, causing Felix to recoil and collapse, overcome by the searing sensation of his blood boiling under his skin. As Jisung kneels beside the fallen vampire, a grimly determined spirit, unflinching and serious, settles over him.
Frustration tinges his voice as he assesses the situation. “Fuck, they’re in deep.”
You wave your hand in front of Hyunjin’s face but he doesn’t even blink. “What can we do?”
"Nothing, yet. We've gotta kill that bastard first." Jisung replies, scanning the room for any signs of their next move. Striding over to the mummified corpse, he delivers a swift kick to the wooden coffin, and you wince, splintering it open. With practiced efficiency, he breaks off a jagged piece of wood, handing it to you before keeping one for himself.
“But if we have to protect ourselves,” He gestures to the two vampires, “This is the only chance we’ve got.”
You gaze at the stake in your hand, horror coursing through you at the thought of wielding it against those who have become your kin, your protectors.
"Listen," Jisung's voice breaks through your turmoil, his tone resolute as he senses your hesitation. “If their souls get away from us again, I can’t help to get ‘em back. Death is a mercy, but it’s our last resort.”
You agree, though as you look at your friends, lost and locked inside of themselves, you wonder if you’ll follow through with such a promise if the moment were to ever present itself.
Retreating toward the coffin, your gaze fixates on the flower delicately held within its grasp. Without much thought, or perhaps with thought you aren't conscious of, you extend your hand, fingers brushing against the petals, taking it into your grasp. Half-expecting the tomb to quake and crumble around you, like a scene ripped from the pages of a thrilling adventure, you're startled when the chamber remains still.
"In my dream they wanted to stop us from getting this, I don't know why," you assert, locking eyes with Jisung, an unquenchable fire burning bright within you as you secure the flower in your pocket. "The odds are now in our favor."
You dart down the corridor, Jisung hot on your heels, fueled by your sudden fearlessness. As the cavern splits into two diverging paths, you and Jisung find yourselves back to back, each scanning for a sign of which route to take.
Jisung's senses, honed by experience, detect a pulsating energy emanating from the right tunnel. He purposefully directs you away from it, "Go Left!" he calls out to you, his voice echoing down the corridor like a solemn decree.
Without a moment's hesitation, you veer down the opposite path, placing your trust in his keen intuition as he forges ahead toward the heart of the mysterious power. In the glow of his flickering flames, Jisung continues on, his back pressed against the unyielding stone walls, each step plunging him deeper, and he can feel himself descending, guided by the flames in his palm, taxing his magick as a necessary means of sight...
You creep, as light as you can on your feet down the hall, and though you don’t sense much, you feel like you’re moving towards something, someone important. A thought crosses you, and you recognize the feeling from before, when you could sense Chan's presence. You're just not sure how the honing mechanism works in your body.
You come to a stop, straining your ears in the silence to hear anything. How could a place so evil be so silent? Maybe that was a part of its sinister nature, you’re in a constant state of paranoia, questioning everything you encounter.
That’s when you hear it.
A cacophony reaches your ears—a wet, slurping noise interspersed with sharp cracks and snaps. Despite the unease creeping over you, you find yourself moving forward anyway, your feet carrying you around the corner even as your instincts scream at you to flee.
As you round the bend, the sounds abruptly cease, leaving a heavy silence in their wake. With shaky hands, you summon a burst of flame, its flickering light casting shadows across the room. You shield your eyes from the sudden brightness, snapping your fingers again to maintain control over the fire with an extended palm, its glow offering a glimpse of the scene before you.
With a sigh of relief, you realize it is Chan, still in his wolf form, perched atop the body beneath him, methodically tearing away its limbs. Despite the gruesome scene before you, you don't recoil in horror. Instead, a strange understanding dawns upon you—a glimpse into Chan's cryptic intentions.
He's systematically dismembering the body.
Catapulted into action, you scour the area until your eyes land on a discarded plank embedded with rusted nails. You don't carry natural nightvision like he does. With a snap of your fingers, flames dance along its surface, casting a flickering glow that barely illuminates the chamber.
You hope, to be able to talk about how much you've improved with Jisung once you're all out of this mess. To thank him for everything's he's done for you to get this far with your conjure.
Armed with a knife of strangely high quality, the one Oliver had dropped earlier, you set to work, slicing through the demon's flesh with surprising ease. It’s as if its appendages were made of gelatinous cartilage rather than solid muscle.
With a final, resolute stroke, you lock gazes with Chan, something primitive passing between you two. Taking a deep breath, you shift your focus to the grisly sight before you: the half-mauled neck upon which Chan still labors.
You issue a directive, "The leg," you command, indicating the limb lying closest to you. You direct Chan to the leg on your side, trading places to continue the task. You hack away at the remaining flesh of the neck until the head is brutally separated from its body. As the final blow lands, the detached leg collapses to the ground with a sickening thud as the wolf by your side finishes alongside you.
Chan nudges your wrist, smearing your hoodie sleeve with the dark ichor of the fallen demon. Bewildered, you meet his gaze. "What's wrong?"
The massive black wolf pads over to the plank, its end nears the final embers of its burn. With a sagacious air, he settles down, resting his head upon his paws. You nod in silent comprehension, scrambling to your feet and surveying the room for flammable materials. Hastily, you gather anything combustible, stacking them in the center of the chamber—a rickety wooden stool, dusty tomes whose contents held no value, and any other debris within reach.
Chan prowls around the scattered body parts, a low growl rumbling from deep within his chest, and you begin to deduce the demon isn’t gone yet.
"Let's go," you command, stepping backward as Chan joins you at the entrance. With a steady focus, you close your eyes, channeling the power within you. In an explosion of heat and light, flames engulf the chamber, forming a barrier that forces you to retreat, the intensity making you stumble and fall to the ground. Though the flames lick at your skin, they do not scorch, leaving you breathless as you gaze at your hands.
How did you just do that?!
A sharp itch on your forearm draws your attention, prompting you to hastily roll up your sleeve. To your astonishment, you find a series of canine tooth marks left by Chan's earlier bite, unhealed, the crescent pattern etched into your flesh. Frustration bubbles within you as you scratch at the irritated skin, rising to your feet just as the flames begin to dwindle.
"Fuck, Chan, what is this?" you demand, only to find Jisung's figure illuminated by the dying embers, his eyes glinting an unnatural complete black in the dim light.
He grins wickedly as he snatches your wrist tightly, looking down at the bite.
“I don’t know, looks pretty bad though.”
Before you can react, he painfully twists your wrist, and darkness consumes you, consciousness slipping away as you collapse into oblivion.
The next two weeks had passed in a blur and I was hardly outside at all.
It was a good thing really. I was moving up in the ranks of trust and had spent the last few weeks sewing the Prince's coronation attire. In fact, I had been asked to sew all of the rest of his clothing for all outstanding events.
I can't lie and say that wasn't strange. The day after I had discovered the clearing on the grounds he had approached me personally to ask if I would work as head seamster for him specifically. Of course I am not in any sort of position to refuse, yet he made me feel as if I had a genuine choice.
Since then, I had been spending most of my hours in a chamber filled with expensive materials. Creating the dress wear for the future king, the man I was assigned to spy on. He was unknowingly making my job much easier.
Every interaction, every detail I picked up from our brief meetings about his preferences or schedule, was another thread in the web of information I was weaving. At the same time, working so closely with him posed its own risks.
Felix was at the center of them all and I couldn't seem to shake his attention.
If the Prince’s attention was steady and calculated, Felix’s was a storm—unrelenting and impossible to ignore. He was everywhere. Always lingering in the background, his sharp eyes taking in far too much. He hardly spoke to me, but the way his gaze lingered on me, the way his presence felt heavier than the Prince’s... it set my nerves on edge.
What unsettled me even more was the dynamic between the two of them. I had noticed that both he and the Prince were much closer than either of them let on. The way they moved around each other and communicated through their eyes told me there was something more under the surface.
The Prince’s instructions to Felix were often given in half-sentences or single words, and Felix understood them perfectly. More telling was the way they communicated through their eyes—a glance, a slight shift of expression, subtle but deliberate. They trusted each other implicitly.
That bond unnerved me. It made Felix’s constant presence feel less like a nuisance and more like a calculated maneuver. He wasn’t just watching me for his own amusement; he was watching me for the Prince.
He was also watching me now. I can feel his gaze on me even with my back turned. But, I act as though I'm oblivious. I act as the stupid human every supernatural being believes me to be. Leaning into the role I’d been playing since I arrived—the naive, simple human, too insignificant to be worth a second thought. Every stitch of thread I pulled, every carefully placed bead, was deliberate. My movements were calm, measured, giving no hint that I was hyper-aware of him
I sat beside Rose at the long table, the two of us sewing in quiet concentration. Rose was humming softly, her needle moving deftly through a delicate sleeve. When Felix had entered the room earlier, I’d immediately—and a bit rudely—ended my conversation with her mid-sentence. She didn't seem to notice his arrival yet. Still, she didn't question my unsolicited rudeness. For that I was grateful.
Felix had a way of blending into the shadows despite his magnetic intensity. For a normal human like Rose, when he wanted his presence could go completely unnoticed. But, I was no ordinary human. I had been trained to be a machine and was especially inclined in stealth training. I wasn’t just adept at evading detection; I’d been trained to spot others who could slip around unseen just like me.
That’s why I noticed him, even when he tried to fade into the periphery. His stillness wasn’t like that of an idle observer—it was charged, intentional. Every inch of him was alive with focus, every movement or lack thereof deliberate. It reminded me too much of the instructors back at the office, the way they’d train me to stalk my prey with unerring precision.
"Suki?" Rose speaks suddenly.
I look up from the needle between my fingertips and find her looking embarrassed. The tips of her ears burned and her eyes avoided mine.
"Hmm?" I hum in response.
"Did I offend you earlier?" she questions, looking down shamefully.
“Offend me?” I asked, my voice soft but steady. “Why would you think that?”
Rose hesitated, her needle faltering mid-stitch. “You… stopped talking so suddenly earlier. I thought maybe I said something wrong.”
Guilt swarmed in my stomach but I didn't let it show on my face. Instead I played the ditzy girl.
"Oh, no. I'm sorry, I just get lost in thought easily." I giggle, letting sincerity shine in my eyes.
Rose’s shoulders eased at my words, the tension slipping from her frame. She gave a small, sheepish smile, her fingers resuming their delicate work on the fabric in her hands.
Suddenly the door thudded, stealing our attention.
It was Felix.
He was pretending to enter the room as if he hadn't been lingering in the shadows for the last ten minutes.
“Ladies, good evening,” he greeted smoothly, his voice rich and velvety, as though he had just stumbled upon us by chance.
To my dismay Rose perked up immediately at his presence. Why did my only friend in this place have to be so close to him.
"Felix!" she exclaimed excitedly.
Rose drops the needles in her hands and closes the distance between them pulling the vampire in for a hug.
Felix seemed momentarily caught off guard by Rose’s enthusiasm, his body stiffening for a fraction of a second before he eased into the embrace. His sharp, calculating gaze softened, if only slightly, as he patted her back with a level of gentleness I wouldn’t have expected from someone like him.
“Good to see you too, Rose,” he murmured, his tone warmer than usual.
As Rose pulled away, her face lit up with a beaming smile. “It’s been so long since we've hung out. Have you been busy with the Prince?”
Felix chuckled softly, as if he knew something we didn't. “You could say that. Duty calls, as always.”
I returned my focus to the fabric in my hands, pretending to be absorbed in my work.
Rose giggles in response before grabbing him by the arm and dragging him to an empty chair at our sewing table.
"Stay with us for a little please. I've missed you twinnie," Rose pleads.
Twinnie?
My focus is torn away from the pattern in my hands and I look up at them confused.
"You guys are twins?" I say, letting my curiosity get the best of me.
Rose laughed, her cheeks glowing with amusement. “Not really. We just happened to be born on the same day."
Felix rolled his eyes slightly, as if annoyed by her sentiment, yet I understand the opposite. His usual sharpness seemed to dull around Rose, his edges softened by her warmth.
I nod my head in understanding and fall back into my work. Its best in I slip back into silence and allow them to catch up.
There’s something calming about watching their dynamic, despite my growing unease at Felix’s ever-present watchfulness.
Rose's chatter fills the space between us as I focus on my stitching, and to my surprise the vampire talks back just as animatedly.
His responses are light, teasing, a far cry from the sharp, focused individual he usually is. It’s strange to see this side of him, and yet, it makes sense—his connection with Rose is genuine. Its hard not to love a soul like hers.
I keep my head down, pretending to focus on the fabric in my hands, but my mind loves to remind me of the past. Felix and Chris used to be friends. Watching him interact with Rose now made me sure of it. The way he joked and quietly shared his affection was a perfect mirror to Chris.
I try to push the memories aside, focusing on the task at hand. The fabric in my hands seems to blur for a moment and instead of a thread I see my friends face. Wherever he is now, I hope he is ok.
"Suki?" Felix says suddenly.
He and Rose are both looking at me with concerned eyes. They must have noticed my distraction.
I hum in response as I did to Rose earlier.
"Would you like to go to the village with us tomorrow?" he questions.
I blink, caught off guard by his sudden question.
"To the village?" I repeat, trying to sound casual, though my mind is already racing.
Felix nods, his gaze steady. "Rose and I were talking about going tomorrow. Thought you might like to join us. It's a chance to see something other than these walls." His tone is light and I'm surprised by his warmness.
Rose chimes in, her voice soft with enthusiasm. "It would be nice to have you with us, Suki. We could use a little company." She smiles warmly, the offer sincere.
I glance down at my hands, the delicate fabric now feeling heavier than it should. My immediate instinct is to say no. No I do not want to spend a second anywhere else but here. I still need to figure out the guards schedules and security cameras. Plus I can't afford to miss any information that slips into my ear by accident working so close to the Prince.
But, my rejection doesn't allow me to build rapport with them. With Felix, who I so desperately wish to stay away from but need to become close to. He is the most trusted person to Prince Hyunjin.
Taking a steadying breath, I finally answer. "I think... I’d like that."
Felix’s lips curl up slightly, a rare smile that feels almost approving. "Great. We'll leave in the morning, then."
He turns his attention to Rose, giving her a quick nod as well, his presence almost like a shadow as he moves toward the door.
Before he leaves, he pauses just in the doorway, his eyes flicking back to me. For a fleeting moment, I catch a glimmer of something—something I can’t quite place. It’s gone almost as soon as it appears, replaced with the usual indifference.
"Good day," he mutters and with that he disappears through the door.
_____
Tonight Rose is in my room once again.
It had become quite the habit. The person who had been stalking her door still has yet to leave her alone.
Rose sat cross-legged at the foot of my bed, her usual brightness dimmed tonight. She was unusually quiet, fiddling with a loose thread from her dress as she stared off into the distance. Her hands moved with a sort of absent-minded precision, but her mind clearly wasn’t with her hands.
“You okay?” I asked softly, my voice cutting through the quiet room.
Rose blinked, as if pulled from some deep thought, and offered me a small, unconvincing smile. “Yeah... just tired,” she murmured, though I could see the way her eyes darted nervously toward the door. I’d caught her doing that more than once tonight, a glance that spoke of more than simple weariness.
“Rose,” I pressed, sitting up slightly, "you know if you hadn't forbade me that freak would be eating from a straw for the next year."
This elicits a giggle from her and her eyes bulge in shock.
"I still can't believe you learned krav maga on the literal street. There is no way a little thing like you can take down a grown man." Rose snorts.
I chuckle at her words as well.
There is a slight possibility I had strayed from my background cover. In an effort to comfort Rose who was worried she would be drawing the weirdo stalking her to my room, I told her I was trained in a form of martial arts. It was my way of letting her know that it wouldn't be so easy to hurt me, and that if needed I could defend her.
Yes I was trained in krav maga, but I was also trained in every existing form of hand to hand combat. The weak human persona didn't need to deceive her, not when she sought me out for safety.
I had told her I wanted it to stay a secret, mostly because I wasn’t sure what kind of ramifications there might be if Felix knew. The vampire already had a keen eye for things I didn’t want him to notice. Thankfully, she didn't question my odd choice of secrecy.
“I know, I know,” I say, shaking my head with a grin. “It’s not exactly the most glamorous story, but it’s the truth.”
Rose doesn’t seem to mind my less-than-glamorous origin story. She’s always been the type to embrace the oddities in life. “I just can’t picture you kicking ass, Suki. You seem so... innocent.” Her words are light, teasing.
I raise an eyebrow, catching her eye. “You’d be surprised.”
Legally, I am classified as a serial killer. But, Rose doesn't need to know anything about that.
I suppress the dark thought quickly, pushing it to the back of my mind where it belongs. There's no reason to let it seep into the conversation now. Rose doesn’t know the full extent of my past—no one does, not really. The things I’ve done, the things I was trained for, are buried under layers of secrets and forgotten identities.
But when I look at her, I see someone who's innocent in a way I can no longer afford to be. She trusts me, believes in the version of me I’ve allowed her to see. And for her sake, I’ll keep it that way.
"Have you told Felix about this guy?" I question suddenly.
If she had that would be a perfect way to get things dealt with. The vampire is certainly very protective of her.
Rose freezes at my question and I see her eyes glaze over as if remembering something in the past.
"I..." She hesitates, chewing on her bottom lip, her eyes darting away from me. “I haven’t,” she finally says, her voice low and distant.
I raise an eyebrow, surprised. "Why not? It seems like he would take care of it in a heartbeat."
She nods, "Thats the problem, and if he takes care of it I don't think that guy would live to see another day."
Her words hang heavy in the air, the weight of them sinking in. So she is aware that Felix is a violent being.
I watch her carefully, trying to gauge whether she truly understands just how far he would go to protect her. Felix’s calm demeanor can easily mask the storm that’s always simmering beneath the surface. I’ve read all about it in his file.
“But you don’t want him to do that,” I state more than ask, the realization dawning on me.
Rose nods slowly, her face hardening with a quiet resolve. “I don’t want him to lose control like that. It’s... not who he really is. At least, not the person I know.”
I can’t help but feel a bit of admiration for her. She’s not just worried about the danger to herself; she’s worried about what it would do to him. It’s a sentiment I can’t quite relate to. My instincts have always been more about survival than emotional protection. But I understand it, in some way.
"So," I begin, my voice steady, "we have to handle this ourselves then."
Rose looks at me confused.
"I'll teach you how to defend yourself and in return you will let me handle the guy," I propose.
Rose looks at me, her brow furrowing in confusion as she processes my words. I can see the hesitation flicker across her face, but beneath it, there’s also a quiet determination.
“You want me to... fight?” she asks slowly, her tone unsure.
I nod, my gaze steady. "Not fight, exactly. But at least be able to defend yourself. You don’t need to be a fighter, but you should have some basic skills—enough to get away if things get bad. And in return, I’ll handle the guy who's been stalking you."
She bites her lip, her gaze dropping to her lap as she thinks over my words. I can tell she’s weighing the offer carefully, trying to balance the risks and the benefits. After a long pause, she looks up at me again, her eyes filled with resolve.
“Okay,” she says softly, almost to herself, before looking me straight in the eye. “Deal.”
I nod, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. “Good. We’ll start tomorrow.”
_____
After the morning session with Rose I was left with enough energy to sustain me for what felt like a week. It felt absolutely amazing getting in a workout that consisted of something more than just sit-ups and pushups in the confinement of my room. The freedom of the clearing I found was exhilarating and I was glad to be able to put the magical space to good use.
Rose on the other hand looked as though she was going to drop dead at any moment. Maybe I went a little too hard on her.
She trudged beside me as we made our way back to the castle, her shoulders slumped, her breaths labored, and her feet practically dragging in the dirt. Her disheveled hair stuck to her damp forehead, and her usually bright eyes were glazed with exhaustion.
“Are you... sure... I’m not dying?” she panted, her words broken up by heavy breaths.
I chuckled, patting her on the back. “You’re fine. It’s just your body getting used to moving.”
“My body isn’t used to moving,” she shot back, glaring weakly at me. “It’s used to sewing, baking, and sitting.”
“Then it’s about time you showed it what it’s capable of,” I teased.
Rose groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. “This is not what I signed up for. I thought you’d teach me some cool moves, not make me run around like a lunatic and punch the air for an hour!”
I hadn't met this side of Rose yet. Its weird to think this girl is three years my senior.
“It’s called building a foundation,” I replied smugly. “You can’t learn the ‘cool moves’ until you get the basics down.”
She mumbled something under her breath that I was certain wasn’t flattering, but I let it slide. Watching her stumble along beside me, I couldn’t help but feel a bit proud. For all her complaining, she’d stuck it out and given her best effort—and that was more than I could’ve asked for.
“Don’t worry,” I said as we approached the castle doors. “Tomorrow will be easier.”
Her head whipped toward me, eyes wide with disbelief. “Tomorrow?!”
I smirked, holding the door open for her. “Of course. Consistency is key, Rose. Besides, you’re doing great.”
She groaned loudly, trudging past me into the castle. “I think I hate you right now.”
I laughed softly as I followed her inside. “You’ll thank me later, now go wash up for our outing today."
She whipped her head around to me and with a sassy smile said, "Don't forget i'm technically your boss Miss Chee."
I blinked at her, momentarily caught off guard by her sudden burst of sass. Then I smirked, crossing my arms. "Oh, trust me, Rose, I haven't forgotten. But I don't recall ‘boss’ being synonymous with ‘drama queen.’"
Rose stuck her tongue out at me before dragging herself up the staircase, each step punctuated with an exaggerated groan of exhaustion.
“Don’t be late,” I called after her, unable to hide the amusement in my voice.
“Late?” she shot back from halfway up the stairs. “I’m going to collapse! If I show up at all, consider yourself lucky!”
I chuckled, shaking my head as I watched her retreating form. There was something oddly endearing about her theatrics. Despite her complaints, I could tell she was starting to enjoy herself—or at least the sense of accomplishment that came with surviving the session.
Hopefully, our trip into the village later today isn't to strenuous.
