The room was deathly silent, tension thick enough to choke on.
Souichiro's crimson eyes glead with fury, his lips curling into a sneer. "Even if she does have the Child of Anti-Prophecy, so what?" His voice was razor-sharp, slicing through the air like a blade. "I'll kill it with my own hands."
His fingers twitched, the re thought igniting sothing dark within him. But it wasn't just that—it was the fact that Yuuna, his Yuuna, had fallen for a mortal.
His upper lip curled in disgust. "To think that soone of my blood—who should stand above all others—would degrade herself by loving a re human." The words dripped from his tongue like venom.
The others stood rigid, watching him with unreadable expressions. They saw through him. They always did.
Souichiro's jaw clenched. He hated this. He hated what that mortal had done to Yuuna.
Yuuna had always been the sa. A porcelain doll, frozen in ti, her expression locked in that gentle, infuriatingly warm smile. She didn't feel. She couldn't feel. That was how it had always been. And yet, after encountering this so-called Child of Anti-Prophecy, she had changed.
She smiled differently now. She spoke with sothing dangerously close to emotion.
And Souichiro despised it.
His nails dug into his palms, the pain grounding him.
The other four remained silent, but they exchanged knowing glances. Jealousy.
Not the romantic kind—no, that was laughable. Souichiro didn't love Yuuna. But by noble vampire tradition, they were to be wed. It was custom. It was law. Bloodlines had to be preserved. And because of that, Yuuna was supposed to be his.
For another man to take what belonged to him? Unforgivable.
It was never about love.
It was about control. About dominance.
Souichiro took pleasure in tornting Yuuna. There was sothing deeply exhilarating about watching his little sister, who had always worn the sa serene mask, crumble under his cruelty. To shatter that expression, to see the despair take hold of her—that was what thrilled him. However, he had never seen it. Not once had Yuuna crumbled under his cruelty.
But now?
That mortal had done sothing to her.
His blood burned.
He would take that away from her.
And when he ripped that human apart with his own hands, he would finally see it—
Yuuna's despair.
***
The school bell's chi reverberated through the halls, a signal of freedom for the students. The chatter of voices rose, footsteps echoing as bodies flooded out of classrooms.
Outside, Kouhei stood at the school entrance, waiting.
Misuzu had asked for his help. He wasn't exactly thrilled about it, nor did he think he was suited for whatever task she had in mind. But this was an opportunity.
If he wanted to strengthen Yuuna's Faction before the inevitable battle against Souichiro's Faction, he needed to ensure the girls were prepared. And right now, his close bonds only extended to four won. That wasn't enough.
He needed more.
A strong connection ant stronger power. That was simply how it worked.
But despite his focus, sothing gnawed at the back of his mind.
A prickling sensation crept up his spine.
Soone was watching him.
The feeling was subtle, almost imperceptible—but it was there. His instincts scread at him, but no matter where he looked, he saw nothing. No figures in the shadows, no piercing gazes.
Still, the sensation lingered.
A mont later, Misuzu erged.
"Yuki-san!"
Kouhei looked up, and for a brief second, he was caught off guard.
Misuzu's beauty was undeniable. She moved with effortless grace, her striking features almost unreal. With her poised deanor and refined elegance, she looked like she had stepped out of a high-fashion magazine.
And yet, here she was, smiling at him.
"Did I make you wait too long?" she asked, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Sorry, I had to stay behind for cleaning duties."
"It's fine. I didn't wait that long," he replied, trying to sound casual.
She exhaled softly, relief flickering across her face. "I'm glad…"
Then, she glanced past him. Her expression shifted, her lips curving into sothing knowing.
"Oh, looks like they're here."
Kouhei turned, just in ti to see it.
A sleek, black car rolled up to the school gates, its dark-tinted windows gleaming under the sunlight. The vehicle exuded wealth and power, its silent approach sending a shiver down his spine.
Misuzu didn't hesitate.
"Let's go, Okumura-kun," she said.
Kouhei hesitated for only a fraction of a second before following.
The mont they stepped inside, his senses sharpened. The air in the car was cool, carrying a faint, unfamiliar scent. Leather and sothing else—sothing subtle yet commanding.
His gaze shifted to the driver.
A woman.
She looked to be around Aria's age—at least, in terms of appearance.
Demons aged differently. Their true years never aligned with their faces. He still rembered the shock he felt upon learning that Yuuna was over a hundred years old.
The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror.
"Who's this, Misuzu? Don't tell you've gone and found yourself a boyfriend."
The driver's cold voice sliced through the quiet hum of the engine as she glanced at the side mirror, her expression unreadable. She maneuvered the vehicle smoothly through the streets, the rhythmic flicker of passing streetlights casting fleeting shadows across her face.
Misuzu, poised with an air of effortless grace, was already a renowned model, soon to make her debut as an actress. This stage of her career was crucial—every decision mattered. Having a boyfriend now, when she was on the brink of true stardom, was an indulgence she couldn't afford. The entertainnt industry was rciless, particularly toward young actresses. Fresh faces drew the most attention, their fanbases thriving on an illusion of unattainability. To remain single was, in a way, an unspoken rule.
"He's not my boyfriend," Misuzu stated coolly, her voice smooth as silk. "I'm bringing him with because he'll be my bodyguard."
"Bodyguard?" The skepticism in the driver's voice was palpable, laced with disbelief. She didn't even glance at him, her gaze unwaveringly fixed on the road ahead. "You an him? Soone that puny?"
There was no mistaking her tone—disdain, mild yet unmistakable. It was the sa tone Kozue had often used with him, a quiet but pointed dismissal.
"You don't know him," Misuzu chuckled, an amused glint in her eyes. "He's actually quite strong."
A low hum of consideration left the driver's lips. Then, without another word, she pressed her foot down on the accelerator, the car gliding forward with newfound speed.
The city blurred past them, neon lights streaking across the windows like liquid fire.
After what felt like re monts, they arrived. The two-story building stood before them, unassuming yet refined, its clean, modern architecture exuding a quiet professionalism. The car ca to a halt, and without hesitation, Misuzu stepped out, Kouhei following closely behind. The driver, however, did not. Without a glance back, she pulled away, the vehicle vanishing into the night.
Reviews
All reviews (0)