Sunoo just needed blood. Thats all.
But Sunghoon wanted something else.
As a child, Sunghoon had always been into the supernatural. Especially vampires.
So he devoted his time turning himself into one. From his wardrobe. To even the smallest detail...
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Starvation.
Was the only feeling he had felt ever since the day he dreadfully hid himself from the world.
Twigs cracked and leaves crumbled under his light steps. Lackluster, it felt with each movement he did.
He was starved.
Famished.
Sunoo staggered into the deep woods, each step felt like a war with his own weakening body.
The formerly bright energy that raced through his veins had faded to a whisper, and hunger gnawed at him mercilessly.
His clothes, worn out and smeared with the grime of time, clung to his skeletal frame. The forest, which had once been his refuge, now felt like a prison.
It had been 72 years since the night he fled. He could still see the flames, smell the acrid smoke, and hear his parents' screams as the hunters descended on their quiet home.
That time when Sunoo's legs had taken him far into the forest. Further than ever vurtured by his kin till tiredness overtook him, and he awakened alone on the rough soiled ground, and his life had now altered.
Revenge had been his constant companion for many years, a burning loathing for the humans who had ruined his life.
But time and the weight of survival had dampened the fire. Now there was only the desire for sustenance and the fear of discovery. He had learned to live in the shadows and blend into the forest, but even the forest could not feed him indefinitely.
Sunoo's heart ached under the weight of his loneliness. He had been alone since that night, and he was afraid that loneliness would be the last of him.
He took a deep breath, fighting off the misery that threatened to consume him. He had survived this long, despite all odds. There had to be a way forward.
But, he would not let himself fade away into nothingness. He had to find a way to survive, even if it meant facing the world he hated.
Or the things he loathed.
Humans.
Humans. They present themselves as so cultured and superior.
When they are merely just wolves in sheep's clothing. They are vile beasts. Their eyes were icy, their hands soaked in innocent blood.
They stroll about like they own the world, yet they're just murderous savages.
