In the labyrinthine underbelly of Busan, a city where night never seems to end, reigns Choi San, a centuries-old vampire with control over the darker elements. His world is one of cold dominance and strict hierarchies-a place where humans are strict...
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𓊈𒆜𝕮𝖍𝖔𝖎 𝕾𝖆𝖓𒆜𓊉
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In the quiet of my office, I sat alone, the only sounds the soft ticking of an ancient clock and the distant murmur of the wind against the mansion's stone walls. The door was closed, the curtains drawn, yet the room felt anything but secluded. Wooyoung's presence lingered like a shadow, his scent, his warmth, his defiant spark disrupting the cold order I had long cherished.
I licked my lips unconsciously, the memory of his taste still vivid, a haunting flavor that stirred an unsettling hunger within me. His blood had been unlike any other—rich and intoxicating—and the brief indulgence left a lingering craving that pulsed just beneath the surface of my restraint.
As I leaned back in my chair, my eyes closed, I let my mind drift, not toward the numerous duties awaiting my attention, but toward him. It was then I realized I could hear it—the faint beating of his heart, a rhythm so distinctively alive it cut through the silence of my solitude like a soft lullaby. It wasn't merely the sound, but the essence of it, the sheer vibrancy that Wooyoung carried with him—a stark contrast to the eternal stillness of my own existence.
Why is he always so composed? What does he see when he looks at me? Wooyoung's thoughts filtered through, his inner voice laced with curiosity and a touch of exasperation. He thinks he's so mysterious with his cryptic words and that calm demeanor.
I opened my eyes, staring at the dark wood of the desk, the papers neatly stacked, untouched. This was my world, a world of order and control, yet since his arrival, since the moment our paths had crossed, everything had started to shift. His recklessness, his fire—it challenged the very foundations I had built around me.
And his thoughts—now a soft whisper I could tune into if I chose—were a chaotic stream against my own structured reflections. It was a privilege and a curse, this power to hear him, to feel him so vividly even from a distance. It was supposed to make me feel powerful, yet with every beat of his heart that echoed in my ears, I felt something dangerously akin to vulnerability.
Can he hear this? Does he know I'm thinking about him right now? Wooyoung's mental voice showed a flicker of doubt, mixed with a hint of daring. Maybe I want him to hear...
Why did he affect me so? His boldness, his unspoken accusations against my nature, his challenging gaze—they should have irritated me, perhaps even angered me. Instead, they intrigued me, drew me in, and held me captive in a way that no one had in centuries.
I stood up abruptly, my chair scraping softly against the floor. This connection, whatever it was, couldn't be ignored. It demanded attention, demanded... something I wasn't sure I was ready to give.
As I walked to the window, pushing the curtains aside to look out into the night, I knew the quiet of my office would no longer suffice. I needed to see him, to be near him—not to feed, not to take, but perhaps to understand this pull, this undeniable force that drew me to him.
