In a world where shadows whisper secrets of old, Y/N, a vampire princess, and Jungkook, a vampire prince, wove a love story destined for the ages. Their hearts beat as one, entwined in a dance of passion that transcended time, until tragedy struck...
Y/N's heart pounded, its rhythm quickening with each glance at the letter, the words so carefully written, as if they were meant only for her. She should be frightened, she knew that much. Someone had entered her world without her knowing, leaving behind a bouquet of roses and a message that had seeped into her very soul. But fear never came. Instead, warmth crept into her face, her hands trembling, not from fear, but from a curious anticipation that she couldn't explain.
Her fingertips grazed the delicate edge of the note again, tracing the curves of each letter. It was beautiful, almost too beautiful for this world, and as she read it over and over, the words clung to her heart like whispered promises in the dark. Why her? Why now? The questions flickered in her mind, but they faded quickly as if the answers didn't matter. What mattered was how she felt, a surge of emotion that made her cheeks flush and her breath catch in her throat.
Without realizing it, her hand lifted to her face, touching her skin gently as if searching for a reason behind the strange, fluttering sensation deep in her chest. How many boys had tried to win her affection over the years? How many had tried to catch her attention only to be met with a polite distance, a quiet detachment? None of them had ever stirred her like this. None had ever made her feel... safe, with just a few lines of ink on paper.
But this... this was different.
There was something about the gesture, the roses, those soft, pink petals that felt like an unspoken promise. She hadn't seen the person who left them, hadn't heard their voice or felt their touch, and yet she was drawn to them as if she had known them all her life. The sensation was as soft as the petals themselves, a quiet reassurance that wrapped around her heart.
A smile tugged at the corners of her lips, unbidden, but she didn't mind. The letter, now resting on the edge of her bed, seemed to pulse with an energy that mirrored her own. She turned her attention to the bouquet, lifting it gently to her face, and inhaled deeply, letting the scent fill her lungs. It was intoxicating, like breathing in a memory she couldn't quite place. Each petal seemed to speak of something deeper, something hidden, and as the fragrance washed over her, she felt a quiet sense of belonging, like she was receiving a gift meant only for her heart.
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The roses cradled in her hands, Y/N walked slowly toward the painting that stood unfinished in the corner of the room. The man's silhouette, dark and blurred, seemed to call out to her in the stillness of the studio. Her gaze softened as she stood before it, the bouquet held tightly in her arms. The figure in the painting remained unclear, his face always just out of reach, but tonight, there was a shift, a faint connection that flickered through her like a forgotten memory trying to resurface.
"I feel the connection..." The words left her lips in a soft whisper, barely audible as if the painting itself would understand.
Her eyes traced the outline of the figure, and for the briefest of moments, she swore she could almost see him, his eyes, warm and familiar, gazing back at her from the depths of the canvas. But just as quickly as the image came, it slipped away, like a shadow fading with the dawn. . . ??? P.O.V.
