shadow slave monarch of crimson Chapter 9: Damnit Yuki

A month had passed since the nightmare began.

And honestly? Life was… great.

That felt wrong to even think, let alone admit out loud. Nightmares weren't supposed to be comfortable. They were supposed to be terrifying gauntlets of suffering and despair. But instead of clawing through monsters or starving in so hellscape, I had fallen into a strange rhythm — one that almost felt like… living.

I tried not to think too hard about how long it had been. Average Survivors lasted days, maybe weeks, before waking up or dying. The record was close to a year for a first nightmare. I wasn't panicking. Not yet. Panic was poison.

Instead, I built a routine.

Dayti ant the library.

The place was endless — books towering into shadows, scrolls tucked into alcoves, and ladders that creaked when you climbed them. So tos reeked of dust and rot, others of iron and blood. Most were useless, rambling nonsense. But every so often, I found fragnts — hints of the War God's campaigns, records of the Beast God's defeat, or whispers about ancient pacts sealed in shadow.

Of course, it was never quiet.

Yuki always found .

This morning she draped herself across the table like a cat, tails splayed everywhere, while I struggled to translate a half-burned manuscript.

"You know," she said, peering at the text upside down, "your handwriting is atrocious."

I didn't look up. "I'm not writing. I'm reading."

"Still atrocious," she teased, tracing a finger over the scribbles I'd copied earlier. "This looks like a drunk spider crawled across the page."

"Maybe it did." I turned the page, ignoring her grin. "So of these books are older than your entire bloodline."

"Impossible. Kitsune bloodlines are eternal." She puffed her chest with mock pride. "Unlike vampires who drink dust and brood in towers."

I sighed. "Do you ever stop talking?"

"No. Next question."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Why do you even co here? You don't read."

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a mock whisper. "Because it's fun watching you pretend you're smarter than everyone else."

I finally looked up, glaring. "Pretend?"

She smirked, her fangs barely showing. "Please. You squint at words until they surrender."

I snorted despite myself. "One day, fox, I'll throw you off the balcony."

"Do it. I'll land on my feet." Her tails flicked smugly.

Later, she did actually try reading, stumbling over an archaic passage about the War God's campaigns. She read aloud in a halting voice:

> "The… uh… leg… le-ga-ti-on… no, legation, advanced upon the beast host…"

Her face crumpled. "This is boring!"

I smirked. "Told you."

She slamd the book shut. "Fine. Then you read it to . Out loud. Like a bedti story."

"You're unbelievable."

"And you're boring."

Her grin didn't fade until I actually gave in and read a few lines. And even then, she leaned on her arms, ears twitching with obvious satisfaction, as if she'd won sothing.

At night, I wandered the castle. I spoke with the servants — zombies, stitched-up soldiers, skeletal guards who were far too polite for their appearances. They were fountains of information, gossip spilling from their bony jaws and stitched lips. I pieced together the puzzle slowly.

Yuki wasn't just any brat. She was Kitsune, beastfolk from one of the noble bloodlines of the Beast God's army. Her mother, Miyako, was a general — a na that carried weight in every whispered corner of the castle. Her people were being hunted by the War God's armies, desperate to wipe out the remnants of Beast God's legacy. Miyako had sent her daughter here for safety, though I doubted that was the full truth.

And ? I was Sebastian, son of Dracula, whether I wanted to be or not. My fake identity gave leverage, but also chains.

Tangents aside — tonight, like many others, we were at the long dining hall table. A grand feast stretched between us: roasted boar dripping with bloodwine, platters of fruits I didn't recognize, and strange, steaming dishes that slled faintly of iron. The torches burned with crimson flas, casting tall shadows on the walls.

And across from , Yuki was being a mischievous brat again.

She poked at her food with a fork, staring at with a sly grin. "You chew too loudly."

I stopped mid-bite, glaring. "No, I don't."

"You do." She mimicked exaggerated chewing noises, snapping her teeth together. "Chomp, chomp, chomp. Like a starving ghoul."

I set my goblet down with a little too much force. "At least I don't spill food all over the table like a slob."

Her tails flicked up like offended banners. "I do not!"

"You literally dropped half your grapes on the floor five minutes ago."

"That was on purpose!" she snapped, cheeks flushing.

"Oh? On purpose? What, feeding the rats?"

She smirked. "Better than watching you drown yourself in bloodwine like so broody old man."

I nearly choked. "I'm sixteen!"

"Sixteen going on sixty," she teased, eyes sparkling.

My fingers itched to grab a grape and throw it at her. "Why do you even sit here if all you want to do is annoy ?"

"Because it's fun," she replied instantly, resting her chin in her hands. "Watching you get flustered is the highlight of my day, Seb."

Her voice had a teasing lilt, but for a split second, I caught sothing softer in her gaze. I shoved it aside. This wasn't real. None of this was.

"Keep talking, fox. One day I'll actually catch you."

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Catch ? And then what? Make a coat?"

Her tails flared dramatically. I smirked, baring my fangs.

"Exactly."

We locked eyes across the table — her grin playful, mine sharp. The tension between us was ridiculous, equal parts childish rivalry and sothing else I didn't dare put into words.

---

The mont broke when the door creaked open.

A maid entered, bowing low. She was a ghoul — pale gray skin, sharp cheekbones, and glowing red eyes that flicked nervously between us. Her uniform was spotless, despite the faint sll of decay clinging to her.

"Lord Dracula has requested Lady Yuki's presence," she said softly.

I pushed back my chair. "Then I'll—"

"Only Yuki."

The maid's voice was apologetic but firm. She didn't look at as she said it.

I froze. Sothing in her tone made my skin crawl.

Yuki blinked, surprised. Her ears twitched. "? Why?"

"I do not know, my lady. The Lord waits in his study."

Yuki shot a quick glance. Her smirk was gone now, replaced with sothing uncertain. "Guess I'd better go then."

I stood anyway. "If he's calling her, I should—"

The maid bowed deeper, cutting off. "Forgive , Young Master. The Lord's order was… explicit. Lady Yuki alone."

The words landed like a weight in my chest. Explicit.

Yuki slid out of her chair, her tails swaying nervously. For once, she didn't have a clever remark. She hesitated, then muttered, "Don't eat all the dessert without , Seb."

I wanted to follow. To demand an explanation. But the maid's gaze, the firm finality of her tone, stopped cold.

So I sat back down, the laughter from earlier echoing hollow in the silence she left behind.