The carriage rattled along the road, each stone beneath its wheels knocking against my patience. I would've given anything to be astride Hairless instead—yes, he was terrifying to anyone who looked at him, but he and I had an understanding. The world looked at him like an on of doom, but he never judged . He never complained. He carried without hesitation. A loyal companion, even if his body was all sinew and exposed skin stretched over bones. A creature of nightmares, but at least he was mine.
Dracula, however, didn't care about my preference. His word was final: "We will arrive like normal nobility, not like heralds of death." I wanted to tell him that nobility and death often arrived hand in hand, but I doubted he'd laugh. So here I was, sealed in a box on wheels, with nothing but the sound of hooves and my own irritation echoing in my skull.
Across from sat Yuki. She was a ray of warmth in this otherwise suffocating ride. Sunlight filtered through the carriage curtains and kissed her dress, making the lavender fabric glow faintly. The gown wasn't overly ornate; it didn't need to be. Its flowing skirt brushed against her ankles, and a pale ivory ribbon tied around her waist emphasized her figure in a way that was both elegant and unassuming. She wasn't dressed to impress nobles—she was dressed in a way that made forget anyone else even existed.
I, on the other hand, looked like a corpse ready to be lowered into a grave. A heavy black suit, gloves, a scarf, and a wide-brimd hat that shielded from every possible ray of sunlight. The effect was… less "mysterious stranger" and more "walking obituary."
"You're sulking," Yuki said, her voice playfully accusing.
I shifted my gaze to her, deadpan. "I'm not sulking. I'm brooding. There's a difference."
"Oh really?" She leaned forward, chin resting on her hand. "What's the difference?"
I smirked faintly. "Sulking makes you look pathetic. Brooding makes you look mysterious."
She raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. "You don't look mysterious. You look like you're going to your own funeral."
"At least I fit the mood." I let my eyes trace her figure deliberately, watching the color rise in her cheeks. "You, on the other hand, look like you're heading to a wedding."
She blinked, montarily stunned, then puffed her cheeks. "Would that be so bad?"
The air between us thickened. I turned my head toward the window, pretending not to hear the quickened rhythm of my own heart. "…Depends on who you're marrying."
She laughed softly, but her face stayed flushed as she sat back. The ride quieted after that, though not uncomfortably. Her presence filled the silence more than words ever could.
When the carriage finally slowed, the driver announced, "San Aurelia."
The city unfurled before us like a painted masterpiece. Canals cut between marble streets, their waters catching the sun and scattering it across the walls like living light. Bridges arched delicately overhead, draped with flowering vines. Gondolas drifted lazily, their reflections rippling as vendors called from their stalls, hawking fruit, bread, jewelry, and trinkets carved from pearl. The air slled of saltwater and roasted spices, tinged with the faint tallic tang of the canals.
Yuki practically flew out of the carriage, her skirt brushing her ankles as she spun in delight. She twirled beneath the sunlight, lifting her arms as though she could embrace the whole city at once.
I stepped out slower, careful to keep in the shadows, and found a bench beneath an arch. Sitting felt safer than weaving through crowds, but mostly it allowed to watch her without interruption. She darted from stall to stall, tasting candied fruit, nibbling fried fish, and laughing when vendors spoke to her in lilting accents. She looked like she belonged in San Aurelia—bright, alive, and untouchable.
That was when soone sat beside .
He wasn't old, not really, but the scars etched across his skin gave him a weathered look. Thin marks crossed his arms and cheek, and his hair was shock-white, his eyes unnaturally pale. Not the kind of man who had seen endless war, but one who had tasted enough of it to carry its residue.
"So," he said casually, nodding toward Yuki, "is that girl your wife?"
The question froze . Lying might get tangled in sothing later. Telling the truth… who knew what rules applied here? So I just nodded.
He smirked faintly. "A fine woman."
The way he said it wasn't a complint. It was an appraisal, like a butcher inspecting a cut of at. My jaw clenched.
"What's your na?" I asked.
"Alexie," he answered smoothly. "Newest priest of the Sun God's army."
That na alone made my blood chill. Alexie. My instincts recoiled as though the syllables themselves were poison.
He tilted his head, his too-white eyes catching the sun. "And you?"
I hesitated before saying, "Sebastian."
His smile widened, stretched too far. "Ah. It's nice to et you, Sebastian. Be sure to say hello to your wife for ."
He rose and walked away, steps asured, like a man who had said exactly what he ca to say.
Yuki returned monts later, holding a skewer of roasted at. She bead at , oblivious to the shadow crawling beneath my skin. "You didn't tell they had food stalls!"
"I didn't want to interrupt your fun," I muttered.
We walked together after that, weaving through streets that slled of fresh bread and spice. Children played near fountains shaped like angels, their laughter carrying on the wind. Street musicians strumd lutes and violins, their lodies slipping through alleyways like smoke.
I tried to relax, but Alexie's words clung to . His smile, his voice. That feeling of inevitability that ca with his na. Like I had shaken hands with my own executioner.
And then—
From a shadowed alley, a cracked voice called: "Ah… young man. Co here. I can sense the unease in your heart."
"Keep walking," I muttered to Yuki, steering her toward the open street.
But she dug her heels into the stones. "Wait—she's a fortune-teller. I've always wanted to try one of these."
I narrowed my eyes. "Yuki, no. Alleyways with strange old won don't end well. That's horror-story 101."
"Oh, co on. What's the worst that could happen?" she asked, already tugging on my hand with that damn foxlike determination of hers.
"The worst? Death. Possession. Eternal damnation. Take your pick."
She gave an exaggerated eye-roll. "You're dramatic. Let's just hear her out. If she curses us, I'll buy you dessert later."
That made pause. "…Depends what kind of dessert."
Her grin widened in triumph. "See? You're already caving."
And against every screaming instinct in my chest, I let her drag into the shadow of the alley.
The air shifted imdiately. The sll of sea salt and roasted food from the streets faded into sothing darker—herbs burning in clay pots, smoke that clung to the lungs, and an earthy dampness that reminded of crypts. Crystals and bones dangled overhead on thin cords, swaying like the teeth of so unseen beast.
The old woman sat at a crooked wooden table, her cloak draped around her like woven night. Her eyes were cloudy, unfocused, but when they landed on Yuki, it was like the fog cleared for just a mont.
"Ah," she croaked, raising a trembling hand. "Let us see your fate, child."
Yuki leaned forward eagerly, slipping into the seat without hesitation. I stayed standing, arms crossed, every nerve in coiled tight.
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