blood is thicker than water | nishimura riki

i.

You probably should have predicted what happened at the ball, but you didn't. You were a fool, blinded by the fancy invitation that had arrived at your door that morning, with real gold leaf pressed into the delicate lettering, the faint scent of blood and roses woven deep into the thick paper. The smell of vampires. The smell of him.

Of course, you supposed it was technically your scent too, but no one ever said anything about it. The wolves you knew never gagged when you walked by, never said anything about how all they could smell was the filthy redness of your diet. Not like what they said to the real vampires, the purebloods at school. No matter how deeply you inhaled the smell of your own clean skin, all you could smell was soap. Maybe it was a good thing; even though you had no problem eating your meals, the smell of it always made you queasy.

You were never really included when it came to the race wars either. You never sided with the humans nor the wolves, and the vampires never accepted you as their own kin either. You belonged to no clan, and certainly not one of any significant name, so you always sat off to the side, watching the creatures growl and hiss at each other, complaining about the stench of wet dog, the sound of tempting rushing blood, and icy cold skin that sent chills down the spine of any nearby mortal.

Perhaps if you had had just one friend, just one vampire that was more than decent towards you, you wouldn't have gone to the ball. You wouldn't have made such a stupid mistake that nearly cost your status and everything you had been working so hard for. But you were alone, always alone. Stuck in the terrible, terrible kingdom ruled by the most terrible pureblood family of them all. And worst of all, the heir to the throne, Nishimura Riki, wasn't shy about his hatred towards you and your so-called unclean, tainted blood. When you had retaliated the first time you met him face-to-face, you ended up with that tainted blood dripping from your nose; one of his goons had socked you in the face without hesitation. And that monster did nothing but laugh at your shocked expression, your utter disbelief.

From that moment on, you swore you would do anything to beat Riki, even if all you could do was take the top spot in your academic classes. It was a small, hollow victory in the sense of it all, but a victory nonetheless. And you dangled it above his head like he was a damned animal, waving it closer and closer until he grabbed for it, and you tauntingly jerked it out of reach. But maybe you got too cocky, because you forgot that his father was in charge of everything, and by the next day your name had been pushed down to second place, and Riki's name was written in big bold black letters on the class list in first place.

Damn these rich vampires, was all you could think as you put your head down and studied even harder for your next test, even though you knew he would just buy his way up to the top spot again.

So perhaps that was why you wanted to go to the ball so badly anyways, to show Riki that you were in fact, a vampire, and were worthy of stepping foot inside his stupid castle. After all, no one else seemed to have a problem with you, although it would be a stretch to say anyone did more than tolerate you, except for Yang Jungwon.

Ah, Yang Jungwon. The innocent little witch who huddled at your side when the race wars at school were taking place, for he was the only witch in his age group for miles around; he had to take classes with those much older than him. The next nearest witch was his brother, Jeongin, who mainly resided in the Kim kingdom and practiced his magic there. Jungwon had once told you that after he graduated from the prestigious academy in the Nishimura kingdom, his brother promised that he would be able to move there with him, and they could do as much magic as they wanted there. It seemed that the Kim kingdom was more accepting of outsiders, and for a moment you wondered if you should go there too. But then Riki had walked by, shoving your textbooks to the floor and scattering your brand-new quills, and you cursed his name in your mind for the millionth time, swearing that you wouldn't leave this damned land until you showed him what you were truly made of.