The vampire's lips parted, the glint of fangs catching in the moonlight as he leaned in. Slowly. Deliberately.
His fangs hovered over her pulse—close enough that each exhale prickled her skin with unnatural cold, like dry ice vapor rolling over glass.
She didn't scream. Couldn't. Her muscles were frozen, lungs locked, as if her very soul had curled into itself. The fangs hovered mere millimeters from her skin, and despair surged through her like a rising tide.
Then—
A force yanked him backward like a marionette with severed strings. He slammed into the brick wall with a crunch that sent mortar dust snowing down.
Claire's gasp hung in the air as a figure emerged from the shadows. Silver hair, mercury-bright under the moon. That same effortless grace. That same face she'd replayed in her mind all damn day.
Him.
The silver-haired man stepped forward, his movements liquid and deliberate. Each stride carried the weight of a gathering storm—the same terrifying poise that had shattered the robbers without breaking a sweat.
And for the first time since this nightmare began, Claire felt her lungs unlock.
The fallen vampire scrambled to his feet, lips peeling back from his fangs. "Who the hell are you?" His voice trembled—not with fear, but the unstable rage of something newborn.
The silver-haired man stopped a few paces away, his gaze glinting like tempered steel. "You've just turned," he said coolly. "There's a lot you don't understand."
He stepped closer. The moonlight caught the edge of his coat, painting him in shades of silver and shadow. "Attack a human in this city without understanding the rules," he continued, "and you won't last the week. There are hunters."
"A hunter?" The vampire's pupils contracted. Then he moved.
Claire's breath hitched as he lunged—unnaturally elongated nails slicing toward the man's chest. Even newborn, his speed eclipsed any human's. The alley itself seemed to recoil from the violence.
The silver-haired man sidestepped. A whisper of fabric tore as claws grazed his sleeve, releasing a scent like frozen iron.
The vampire pivoted, swiping at his face with a hiss of splitting air.
Again, that effortless tilt of the head. Again, nothing but empty space where flesh should be. He moved like wind through dead leaves, each evasion minimal, exact.
Frustration ignited. The vampire drove a fist into the brick wall. Dust rained down as cracks spiderwebbed outward.
Claire pressed against the damp wall, pulse hammering in her throat. She could run now—but couldn't look away.
The vampire came again, this time going for the throat.
No more dodging.
A hand snapped out, seizing the vampire's wrist mid-air. Bones creaked under that grip. When the creature snarled, the silver-haired man twisted—just enough—and drove a knee into his gut. Not to rupture. Not to kill. Just to drop him.
The vampire collapsed to his knees on the pavement, his chest heaving as he glared up through disheveled hair.Rage there, yes. But beneath it? The dawning horror of realizing he'd picked a fight with the wrong person.
Claire's fingers dug into brick. She'd seen bar fights, even a knifing once outside the 7-Eleven. This wasn't that. This was a wolf playing with its food.
The silver-haired man stood with an air of quiet composure, his gaze sharp as a blade, fixed unwaveringly on the vampire. The narrow alley was silent except for the faint whisper of the wind and the creature's ragged breathing. The night air carried the scent of damp pavement, the aftermath of their brief but brutal clash still evident in the scattered debris. Claire pressed herself against the wall, clutching her throat as she stared wide-eyed at the two figures before her.
The vampire snarled, his voice laced with venom, "You're a hunter?" His expression twisted with fury. "If you knew vampires existed, why didn't you protect the people?Why was I left to be attacked—turned into this?" His voice cracked, raw with anguish. "What gives you the right to stand there and judge me when I never asked for this? Now I'm just another one of them—neither human nor dead!"
The silver-haired man didn't flinch. He simply stood there, cold and unmoved, as if the fury and pain aimed at him couldn't pierce the stillness in his eyes.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low, commanding. "Only one thing matters: any vampire who preys on humans will be exterminated."
The vampire bared his fangs, pain and rage warring in his eyes. "You talk about rules, but where were those rules when I needed them?"
For a moment, something unreadable flickered in the hunter's gaze. Then, his tone shifted, deliberate. "Tell me everything about the vampire who turned you. Every detail you remember."
The vampire stiffened, his breath coming faster. His eyes darted to Claire before settling back on the hunter. Slowly, he began, "That night… I was working late. The streets were empty. I cut through an alley, and then—" His voice dropped, trembling. "Someone grabbed me from behind. He wore huge sunglasses, but…there was a blue glow behind them...his eyes were glowing blue. He smiled—showed his fangs—and then sank them into my neck."
Claire shivered. The vampire trembled slightly, fists clenched as the scene played again in his mind.
"When he let go, I could barely stand. He said, 'Hope you become one of us,' and vanished into the dark. I couldn't scream. Couldn't move. When dawn came, the pain started. My body burned, and then—" He gestured to his own darkened eyes. "This."
The hunter's brow furrowed slightly. "Blue- eye?" he murmured, as if piecing together a puzzle. After a beat, he asked, "Would you recognize him?"
The vampire shook his head, exhaustion weighing on him. "The glasses hid his face."
"Then go," the man said abruptly.
The vampire blinked. "You're letting me go? Wait… aren't you a hunter?"
The man didn't answer the question directly.
"Don't attack humans again."
A bitter laugh escaped the vampire. "It's not that simple. The thirst… it's always there. And in this state...where the hell am I supposed to go?"
The silver-haired man turned slightly.
"Go to Nocturne & Nectar."
The vampire frowned. "What's that?"
"A nightclub."
The vampire looked puzzled. The man added,
"Order a Red Requiem. Someone will know what to do."
The vampire lingered a second longer, searching the silver-haired man's face for any hint of deception. But the hunter's expression didn't waver. His silence was heavier than words.
Without another word, the vampire turned and bolted down the alley, his footsteps fading into the night. He didn't want to give the man a reason to change his mind.
The silver-haired man turned the other way, his long coat sweeping behind him like a shadow given form.
"Wait!" Claire found her voice at last, stumbling forward. "Just... who are you really?"
He didn't stop. "You don't need to know."
Claire took a step forward. "Will I see you again?"
No answer.
She raised her voice, frustrated and desperate. "Then at least tell me your name!"
He paused at the mouth of the alley, glanced back just enough for the moonlight to catch the edge of his eyes.
"…Aurelien D'Ardenne."
And then he was gone, swallowed by the city's darkness like he'd never been there at all.