Chapter Text
Oh…, Johan stared at his small hands. He was just a kid again, maybe eight or nine years old, in a dimly lit room of worn stone walls. Moonlight filtered through a tiny window, casting cold, silver beams across the space. In front of him was a brown-haired child with gentle, expressive chocolate eyes, wide with fear yet his hands clenched with determination. The kid’s name danced just out of reach in Johan’s memory, but something about this kid felt achingly familiar, like an echo of something he’d lost.
“Go. You have to go,” the young Johan could not help but say, his voice surprisingly firm, despite the tremor in his chest. He gestured to a narrow pathway hidden behind a loose stone panel in the wall. It was barely wide enough for the kid to squeeze through.
The brown-haired kid hesitated, the brown eyes flickering between the way out and Johan, before reaching out a hand, saying urgently. “Just come with me. I won’t leave you behind.”
Johan shook his head, forcing a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine, I need to stay here and mislead them, since it’s you they want. You need to get out of here. And don’t look back, alright?”
For a long, breathless moment, the kid seemed ready to protest. But finally, with a nod and one last, desperate glance, the brown-haired kid slipped through the narrow path, disappearing into the darkness.
Young Johan let out a relieved sigh, a weight lifting from him— as he hid the exit well by pushing a wardrobe as fast as he could. Once he was done, for an instant, he caught his breath. But, a loud crash suddenly echoed, as someone barged into the room, and Johan spun around just in time to see a figure looming over him. There was no time to react. Pain burst across his temple, and the world dimmed as he crumpled to the floor.
As he was fading into unconsciousness, he heard voices—muffled, but urgent.
“What are you doing?! He’s not just any kid! He’s… bound… to… by… the blood… moon…”
The words fractured and melted away, as Johan’s vision began to fade, the image of the smaller person escaping providing him warm comfort, till everything faded away.
With a gasp, Johan woke up, heart pounding, hands gripping his sheets tightly as he blinked into the morning light. He sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair, exhaling a long, weary sigh, before staring at his hand, inhaling with relief to see he was his regular self again. I’m awake.
Another blood moon is coming—he could feel it in his bones. Every five years, that dream grew sharper, each detail a little clearer, as if the memory was reaching out to him across time. This time, he could almost see the face of the kid he’d helped escape. Almost.
But he didn’t know who they were. He didn’t know why he’d tried so desperately to save them, only that he’d wanted to protect them at all costs.
Johan forced himself to get out of bed, stretching out the ache in his muscles. Time to hunt some vampires— his job as a vampire hunter paid well and suited him in many ways—his strong physique, his sharp senses, his relentless training. But more often than not, it left him feeling hollow.
He was a hunter, yes, but his targets were specific: he hunted only those vampires who had lost all traces of humanity, those who fed without restraint or mercy, and those who had turned humans against their will. Of course, that meant less work, and therefore, even less money. Still, Johan couldn’t ignore the things he had seen—vampires hunted down, even when they were only children, or helpless souls, stripped of their former lives. There were too many ways to lose oneself in the darkness, even without fangs.
And though he’d trained himself to let go of the past, a question lingered in his mind each time he saw that memory. Who was the kid he’d saved? And why had he been willing to risk everything for them?
He took a deep breath, straightening his stance. The blood moon is coming, so I have to finish up early today. And somehow, he could feel it— that this time, it would be more dangerous to him than any other time before.
So far, it was just another night– when a vampire lunged at Johan with a feral snarl, sharp fangs bared in the moonlight, and Johan sidestepped smoothly, keeping his blade steady. He’d faced creatures like this before—vampires so lost to bloodlust that there was nothing left of the person they had once been. There was no remorse, no hesitation in his strikes, as he aimed to finish the fight quickly.
But as he fought, his mind drifted to memories of the past. He’d lived through four blood moons already, each one stirring up old dreams and fragments of memories he couldn’t piece together.
The first blood moon… he’d been too young to remember. He was only three or four years old, barely more than a toddler. But people in the village still spoke about it in hushed tones, as if he were something strange and unknown. He had appeared in their village out of nowhere, with no family, no origin anyone could trace. All he’d had was the bracelet on his wrist—a slender band with seven small gemstones, each a different color of the rainbow. A gift from someone, from his parents, his family? No one really knew, and he rarely bothered to ask anymore.
Johan gritted his teeth, parrying the vampire’s next strike as it let out a furious hiss. He didn’t break his stance, didn’t let his gaze falter, but he felt the weight of that memory settle heavily over him.
The second blood moon… that one he remembered better. He’d been about eight or nine, standing in the woods, and next to him was the same brown-haired kid he saw in his dreams, their hand clasped tightly in his. He couldn’t remember the kid’s name, but he remembered the warmth of their hand and the strange familiarity he felt.
That was when the kid had reached out, touching his bracelet. He remembered how their fingers had lingered over the gemstones, tracing each color, as if enchanted by them. Then, as if triggered by some unknown power, the gems had flared to life, and he’d heard whispers—a chorus of voices, faint but present, like a family calling to him from somewhere far away.
It was the first time he had heard the spirits in the bracelet. They were the only family he’d known since, these mysterious guardians who spoke to him from within each crystal, and over time, he had come to know them as the Crystal Beasts.
The vampire struck again, and Johan dodged, calling on Ruby, his red crystal. The faint shape of a small, winged creature shimmered to life beside him, its ruby-red light like a protective flame as it deflected the vampire’s claws. “Thanks, Ruby,” he murmured, knowing the spirit could hear him.
The vampire’s aggression didn’t let up, its red eyes gleaming hungrily in the moonlight, but Johan felt grounded by the memory of his Crystal Beasts and the connection they gave him. They weren’t just power—they were part of him, the family he carried even when he stood alone against the dark.
As he thrust his blade forward in a final strike, mutually assured destruction crumbled into dust. He sheathed his weapon, the adrenaline fading as he took a steadying breath.
Johan walked down the narrow, cobblestone path back to his house, the weight of the night pressing on him. Each blood moon seemed to draw out fragments of memories long buried, but tonight, his mind settled on the third blood moon he had lived through—the one that had changed everything.
He was eighteen, maybe nineteen, on the cusp of adulthood. That night, he’d been walking through the woods surrounding the village, searching for the quiet he often found among the trees. But as the blood moon rose high in the sky, he noticed something strange: a thick, oppressive silence settling over the forest. The usual sounds—crickets, rustling leaves, night owls—had all but vanished, leaving only the hollow sound of his own footsteps.
Then he’d sensed it. A chill had run down his spine, and he’d spun around to see figures emerging from the darkness—vampires, one after the other, their eyes gleaming, fangs bared. There were so many, and they all looked at him with an intense, ravenous hunger. It was as if he was something more than a human to them—something they craved in a way that defied reason.
One vampire had drawn close enough that he could see its face, the raw desperation in its eyes as it whispered, “You smell… too good… far better than any human.”
He’d barely understood what it meant at the time. But the look in that vampire’s eyes had terrified him in a way nothing else ever had. He’d known, instinctively, that if they got close enough, he wouldn’t survive the night.
Heart pounding, he’d run, faster than he ever thought possible, the vampires hissing and snarling behind him. His only thought had been to reach the village borders—those ancient lines etched into the ground that somehow kept the creatures out. No one in the village knew why the barrier worked, only that it had been there as long as any of them could remember. It was an unspoken rule: the vampires could not cross the line.
The village had been his sanctuary that night. As soon as he crossed the invisible border, the vampires stopped, pacing and glaring at him from the shadows, as if there was some invisible wall keeping them from their prey.
That night had changed something in him. He’d been forced to confront the fact that he was… different. And whether he wanted to be or not, he was tied to the vampire world in a way he couldn’t ignore. That was the night he realized he would have to become a hunter, if only to protect himself.
As he walked home under the cold light of another blood moon, he felt a familiar heaviness settle over him. He was older now, stronger, and had earned a reputation as a skilled hunter. But he still didn’t understand why he was so… different. Why his scent alone seemed to lure vampires in a way that defied explanation.
And the village border that had saved him so many times… no one knew what ancient magic or power lay within it. Only that it was his last line of defense, in a world that felt increasingly dangerous with each passing blood moon.
Johan cast one last glance over his shoulder, feeling the weight of the blood moon high above. He knew he couldn’t escape his past. He could only move forward, step by step, until the mysteries haunting him finally revealed themselves.
Just as Johan neared the village borders, he halted mid-step, his instincts flaring. A faint gust of wind seemed to brush against him, ruffling his hair, as if something small had darted by. He tensed, his hand inching toward his weapon, as he glanced around, searching for anything out of place.
Then he saw it: a tiny, fluffy spirit, hovering right in front of him. It had large, round eyes that sparkled with a gentle, curious light and small, feathered wings that flapped softly, keeping it aloft. The spirit’s round, almost cuddly form bobbed in the air as it looked at him, its gaze filled with an innocent warmth that took him by surprise.
Johan blinked, lowering his guard. This wasn’t some vampire or hostile creature—it was just a lost spirit, radiating a calm, comforting energy that almost made him smile.
“Hey there, little spirit,” he murmured, crouching down slightly to bring himself closer to its level. “Are you lost?”
The spirit tilted its head, letting out a soft, contented sound that felt like a greeting. Johan chuckled, surprised by how natural it felt to be talking to the small creature. The village didn’t often have spirits this pure wandering around, especially not near the border where darker creatures usually prowled.
He thought briefly about taking the spirit back with him. It was a comforting idea, one he hadn’t felt in a while—the thought of having someone, or something, to come home to, aside from his family, of course. Even though he was a skilled hunter, in truth, he was a loner. No one else in the village could see spirits, and after his mentor had passed a few years ago, there was no one left who truly understood him. He was respected, sure, but only in that distant way a person might respect a storm or a wild animal—powerful, but best kept at a distance.
People came to him for requests, for protections or hunts, but never for companionship. To them, he was just the strange hunter who could see things they couldn’t, the man who lived on the edge of the village and wandered the woods at night, guarding against creatures most villagers didn’t even want to acknowledge existed.
The little spirit drifted closer, hovering beside him, as if sensing the loneliness he tried so hard to hide. With a soft sigh, he reached out a hand, letting the spirit perch on his finger. Its wings fluttered as it settled there, its small weight barely noticeable.
“You want to come with me?” he asked softly, smiling a little, as the spirit chirped in response. He took that as a yes.
Johan barely had a second to react, as the spirit circled around him, and a sudden burst of bright light enveloped him. He staggered, startled by the intensity, his instincts screaming that something was wrong. “Uh…what’s going on?!” he almost yelled, trying to step back—but it was too late. The light grew blinding, forcing him to shut his eyes.
When he opened them again, the familiar forest had vanished. Instead, he found himself standing on a plush, red carpeted floor, surrounded by an unfamiliar grandeur. His heart skipped a beat as he looked around, only to find himself surrounded by five figures—vampires, judging by their red eyes and sharp gazes fixed on him.
Shit, he thought, dread coiling in his stomach. Was that a trap? And I fell right into it just like that?!
The small vampire with round glasses stepped forward, curiosity glinting in his eyes. “What’cha got there, Winged Kuriboh? A human… who doesn’t smell like a regular human…” he asked, glancing at the little spirit still floating beside Johan.
Johan blinked, disoriented, as the spirit’s name registered in his mind, Winged Kuriboh... It seemed fitting, somehow, even if he didn’t know why.
He instinctively took a step back, trying to assess his surroundings. There were two vampires behind him now, and he turned to face them quickly—a tall, sharp-eyed man with jet-black hair and a woman with flowing blond hair, who exchanged glances as they sized him up.
“He smells delicious,” the black-haired vampire said, his gaze narrowing hungrily. “We could have him as a snack.”
The blonde woman nudged him sharply, her expression stern. “You know the rules… no snacking on any humans, especially during a blood moon.”
“But you heard what Sho said, and I agree,” the black-haired one persisted, casting Johan a dark look. “He doesn’t smell… just human.”
Johan clenched his fists, his patience fraying. “Where am I? And who are you people… uh… vampires?” These vampires were definitely not like the regular ones he met, they seemed so aware of their blood lust, and mostly, under control. But Johan gulped, Don’t know if that makes them even more dangerous… He shook his head, mumbling, “Whatever you prefer to be called…”
Before anyone could answer, a cold voice echoed through the room from behind him, his tone dripping with authority. “Would someone care to enlighten me, what’s going on here?”
The vampires around him froze, heads bowing immediately, as they turned to face the source of the voice. Johan followed their gaze, and felt his breath catch. Seated at the head of the room was a vampire with intense golden eyes that gleamed with a regal, dangerous power. His tousled brown hair fell around his face, and his piercing gaze radiated both curiosity and command. Johan knew instinctively, He wasn’t there before… I didn’t even feel him approaching, and yet, this powerful aura. This isn’t just any vampire. This is someone high-ranking, possibly even royalty.
“Y-Your Highness,” one of the vampires murmured, clearly nervous. “Winged Kuriboh… brought him here.”
“Oh?” The king’s eyes shifted from his subjects to the small spirit, then to Johan, an intrigued smile curving his lips. “Care to explain yourself, Winged Kuriboh?”
Winged Kuriboh didn’t respond with words, but instead floated in a circle around Johan, its gaze resting on the bracelet on his wrist. Before Johan could react, Winged Kuriboh tapped one of the stones—the one representing Ruby—and in an instant, a red light emerged from the gem, forming into the familiar spirit of his Crystal Beast, Ruby. Johan almost backed away, H-How did it know to do that?
Ruby let out a small, defiant cry, its fur bristling as it stared down Winged Kuriboh. The little fluffball chirped back, unimpressed, and without warning, they both lunged at each other in a flurry of fur and wings.
Everyone else in the room let out a collective sigh, some shaking their heads, others facepalming. Johan stood there, at a complete loss, watching his own spirit familiars squabble in the middle of what appeared to be a royal vampire’s palace. Mesmerized, he observed, I’ve never seen Ruby play with a spirit before…
“Honestly,” the black-haired vampire muttered. “Can’t Winged Kuriboh bring something normal back for once? Preferably something to eat…”
Johan’s eyes shifted back to the vampire king, at least, that was what he thought he was seeing, if he had indeed understood the situation correctly—but the vampire king just watched the commotion unfold with an amused glint in his eye.
Feeling his gaze, he looked back at Johan, clearly curious. “So… a human with a powerful spirit connection, who doesn’t smell just human,” he murmured, but his voice was clear, his gaze becoming sharper. “Interesting...”
Johan took another careful step back, his eyes darting between the vampires around him and the king who seemed to watch his every movement with an unsettling intensity. His heart pounded, but he forced a calm expression, raising a hand as he said, “Well… I’ll just be on my way, then.”
The king chuckled, a rich, almost melodic sound that somehow made Johan’s nerves fray even more. “What’s the hurry?” he asked, a glimmer of amusement in his golden eyes. “If you leave so soon, Winged Kuriboh will miss his playmate.”
Johan’s movement stopped, turning back to the king, gaping, mouth slightly open in disbelief. He glanced over at Winged Kuriboh, who was happily darting around Ruby, clearly not the least bit concerned with Johan’s predicament. This… isn’t exactly the escape route I had hoped for. He turned back to the king, trying to keep his voice steady. “Playmate, huh?”
The king’s eyes narrowed, his smirk lingering. “Why don’t we make this easier,” he suggested, his voice almost cold, laced with undeniable command, “and you just hand over your bracelet, hm?”
Johan froze, instinctively clutching the bracelet on his wrist. The suggestion hit him like a threat, sending a chill down his spine. He narrowed his eyes, his jaw set as he growled out, “You can forget it!”
In an instant, the king was in front of him, so fast that Johan’s breath hitched. He felt the icy press of cold fingers under his chin, tilting his face downward toward the king, who was somehow… slightly shorter than him, though that did nothing to lessen the authority that radiated off him. “You know,” the king murmured, his voice a dangerous whisper, “I could take them by force if I wish to.”
Johan didn’t flinch. He stared back into those piercing golden eyes, his own gaze steady, his voice firm. “You’ll have to kill me first.”
The king’s smirk widened, his grip shifting as he moved closer, bringing Johan’s neck mere inches from his mouth. Johan could feel the king inhale, the faintest hint of a sigh escaping him. “Now that would be a waste, wouldn’t you say?”
Johan clenched his teeth, his pulse racing at the king’s proximity. He didn’t dare move, knowing that any attempt to fight would likely end in failure. He was strong, trained, but whatever kind of pure vampire this was, Johan knew, I cannot outpower him!
After a long, intense moment, the king’s grip softened, releasing Johan’s chin. His eyes lingered with something unreadable. “So,” he said smoothly, “let’s come to a clean solution. I won’t take your bracelet… but stay here tonight.” His tone was light, but Johan sensed the steel behind it. This was a command, not a suggestion. “I’d hate to see Winged Kuriboh sad, especially when he just found a friend.”
Johan’s eyes followed the king’s, landing on Winged Kuriboh, who was still playfully chasing after Ruby, who sprinted in anxious circles trying to shake the little creature off.
Johan looked back at the king, utterly perplexed. Here he was, faced with a powerful vampire who could have killed him or taken the bracelet outright, yet the king’s gaze was calm, his tone almost… teasing. What kind of vampire am I dealing with?
Johan narrowed his eyes, his gaze shifting between the king and the other vampires around him. His voice was low, cautious as he asked, “What’s going to guarantee that you won’t just make me a meal for you and your… household?”
The king’s chuckle was soft, his gaze almost amused as he tilted his head. “Ah,” he said, a faint glint of mischief in his eyes, “I forbid anyone within these walls to feed during blood moons. I, myself…” he paused, his expression turning thoughtful, “fast during blood moons.”
Johan felt himself tense, curiosity and suspicion battling within him. He didn’t intend to voice his question out loud, but it slipped out before he could stop himself. “And… why is that?”
“Consider it a tradition we have as vampires,” the king replied, his gaze unwavering, as if he had anticipated the question.
Johan opened his mouth to press him further, to ask why a vampire king would choose to starve himself during the blood moon, but something held him back. He searched the king’s face, looking for some flicker of deception, but the vampire’s expression was composed, calm. He had no reason to lie, and yet, Johan’s own memories of blood moons told a very different story. After all, he had been hunted relentlessly by bloodthirsty vampires, drawn by the scent they claimed was impossible to resist. Yet… something about this king’s words felt sincere.
His mind raced, considering the options he had left. He was surrounded by at least five vampires here in the lobby, and not a single one had so much as stepped toward him. The rules here, he realized, were clearly different.
Taking a deep breath, he finally met the king’s gaze. “If you can promise not to harm me… or my family,” he said, his hand tightening protectively over his bracelet, “then I’ll… consider staying until morning.”
He hesitated, the weight of his situation settling on him as he continued, his thoughts running through his limited choices. I don’t even know where ‘here’ is, he thought, glancing around at the unfamiliar space. And judging by the darkening sky, it’s already sundown. If I try to leave now, I’ll be stepping right into the open, with no protection against any other vampires outside, and it is a blood moon...
The king’s gaze softened, a subtle hint of understanding in his eyes. It was as if he could hear Johan’s conflict, though he said nothing.
Johan took one more steadying breath, feeling the unease settle. His options were few, but at least here, under the king’s word, he stood a chance of surviving this blood moon.
Sho was the first to break the silence, stepping forward with a quick bow. “Alright, everyone, back to your duties,” he said, casting a meaningful glance around the room before turning his attention to the king. “What would you have me do, your Highness?”
The king’s gaze lingered on Johan thoughtfully, a trace of amusement flickering in his eyes before he spoke, voice casual yet resolute. “Sho, prepare my chambers. Our guest,” he said, with a slight tilt of his head, “will be sleeping in my chambers tonight.”
Johan’s face went pale, then immediately flushed as his mind raced. “W-Wait, I didn’t agree to this!” he stammered, his words tripping over themselves in his rush. “You promised no harm would come to me or my—!”
The king raised a hand, silencing him with a steady, raised brow. “Your scent,” he began, his voice low and even, “is growing stronger by the hour. If you remain here, unguarded and exposed, you’ll drive the others mad with bloodlust. Trust me when I say, it would be… wise for you to stay with me.”
Johan clenched his fists, feeling a wave of guardedness rising up in him, but he couldn’t deny the truth of the king’s words. After a long pause, he nodded cautiously, finally mumbling, “I’ll be… only staying there, then.”
The king took a step closer, his voice dropping to a soft murmur just beside Johan’s ear. “If it were an invitation to my bed,” he said smoothly, “I’d make myself very clear.”
Johan’s eyes went wide, his cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. He took a step back, trying to regain his composure but feeling his pulse quicken despite himself. He glanced away, biting back the urge to say anything more, certain that any response would only lead to further teasing from the king.
As if sensing his possible discomfort, the king’s gaze softened. “As for your spirit companions,” he added, gesturing toward Winged Kuriboh and Ruby, still playfully engaged, “they are safe in this household. I trust Ruby will know how to find her way back to you once they finish playing.”
Johan nodded, watching his spirits briefly, who seemed happier and freer than he’d seen in a very long while. With a reluctant sigh, he looked back at the king, torn between suspicion and a faint, undeniable curiosity. He kept telling himself, Stay calm… don’t let yourself waver.
Johan’s eyes stayed on Winged Kuriboh and Ruby, their playful chase filling the dim room with an odd sense of warmth. He didn’t understand why, but as he watched them, he could almost hear faint echoes of laughter at the back of his head, like distant memories just out of reach. The feeling stirred something nostalgic, a strange comfort that vanished when Sho’s voice broke through his thoughts.
“Your chambers are ready, your Highness, as you’ve requested.” Johan blinked, snapping back to the present. He gave Ruby a last gentle stroke along its back, murmuring, “If you need anything at all, Ruby… find me, okay?” The spirit gave a slight nod, before scampering back to play, and Johan felt a pang of guilt for leaving them. But the king’s quiet presence, his patience as he waited, drew him forward. Soon enough, he was following in silence, trailing through the winding halls of the mansion.
They climbed a grand staircase, and Johan noticed that they were moving higher and higher until, on the topmost floor, they entered a wing isolated from the rest of the house. It was clear that the king’s chambers were set apart from the others, and as Johan stepped inside, he felt himself pause in awe.
The room was as regal as he might have imagined a vampire king’s to be, a study in deep reds, rich blacks, and gleaming gold. The furnishings were masterfully carved from dark wood, and each piece seemed to carry a weight of history and luxury. In the center was an enormous bed, draped in silken sheets, with a tall chair beside it and a grand fireplace that filled the space with a soft, flickering glow.
Johan’s gaze lingered on the fire, wondering absently whether it served a purpose beyond mere decoration. Do vampires even feel warmth? Do they even require it during cold weather?
Sensing his hesitation, the king stepped forward, his eyes observing Johan’s every reaction. “It’s warmer here than most rooms,” he said, almost as if reading Johan’s thoughts. “I prefer it that way.”
Johan’s brow furrowed in curiosity. “You… feel the cold?”
A faint smile curved on the king’s lips. “To an extent, yes,” he replied, his tone light but guarded. “Not quite as you do, but the fire… it holds a presence I find calming.”
Johan shifted uneasily, but there was something strangely grounding about the king’s honesty, however slight. He glanced away, absorbing the opulence of the room, then took a deep breath. For one night, he told himself, just survive this one night.
“Feel free to use the bed,” the king said, his voice smooth, carrying a note of amusement. “As you know, we rarely ever sleep.”
Johan regarded him cautiously, still on edge, but unable to resist a retort. “From what I’ve heard, you rarely ever feel the cold either,” he muttered, casting a glance at the fire.
The king chuckled, a low, rich sound that echoed softly in the room. Without another word, the king settled himself in the armchair by the fireplace, resting his face against his hand, his gaze lost in the dancing flames. Johan watched him, taking in the relaxed posture and the slight arch of his brow, realizing how natural the king seemed here, as though the fire and shadows were more his home than the sprawling mansion surrounding them.
Hesitantly, Johan perched on the edge of the bed, still watching him. The king’s golden eyes held a mesmerizing glint in the firelight, but for a split second, they seemed to shift, softening into a warm brown, something gentler and more… human. Johan blinked in confusion, and the color was gone, the sharp gold returned.
He shook his head, wondering, Did I just imagine it?, or if exhaustion was finally getting the better of him. The day had stretched on, pushing his limits—between the fighting, the unending blood moon tension, and now this, he couldn’t tell what was real and what was slipping into his own mind’s haze. But as he looked again, the king hadn’t moved, his expression still, his focus somewhere beyond the fire’s glow.
Johan felt his own eyelids grow heavy. He laid back cautiously, still half-alert, and, against all expectation, felt the bed beneath him offer a strange comfort. He could not remember the last time he even laid against something so comfortable.
Johan shifted, resisting the urge to lie back fully. He muttered, half to himself, “You mentioned my scent before… doesn’t it bother you?”
The king didn’t turn, still gazing into the fire, as he answered with a calm hum, “No. For me, it’s quite pleasant, if you must know. Like a candle that emits a soothing lavender fragrance.”
Johan blinked, momentarily taken aback. “Lavender? That’s it?” He frowned, not quite convinced. “But… you’re a vampire. And I’ve seen how my scent affects others… especially on blood moons.”
The king’s gaze remained fixed on the flames, but he sighed, a quiet, almost resigned sound. “I don’t blame other vampires. Just imagine starving for salvation, and suddenly smelling a drop of divinity in a sea of sins.”
Johan flinched slightly at the words, raising an eyebrow skeptically. “I thought you said I smelled like lavender.”
The king finally looked his way, his lips curving in a faint, amused smile. “Perhaps I just didn’t want to scare you away.” His voice dropped to a hushed tone, tinged with a warmth Johan hadn’t heard from him before. The soft flicker of the fire caught in his golden eyes, giving them a gentler glow, and for a brief moment, Johan felt something between curiosity and disbelief.
“So, you could just resist it that easily?” Johan asked, voice low, still holding back sleep.
The king’s gaze hardened, unreadable. “Resisting and choosing are different things. In my company, you’re safe by choice, Johan.”
Johan opened his mouth, startled. “…You know my name.”
The king’s response was immediate, almost dismissive. “Overheard it from Winged Kuriboh and Ruby.”
Johan’s gaze lingered on him, half-expecting more of an explanation, but he chose not to push. The atmosphere between them settled back into silence, filled only by the soft crackle of the fire and the shadows it cast across the room. After a long moment, curiosity got the better of him, and he broke the quiet. “…What should I call you?”
The king’s expression softened slightly, a faint flicker of warmth in his gaze. “Most vampires know me as Haou… but those close to me call me by my name, Judai.”
Johan hesitated. Is this a test? There was a gravity in the king’s words that made him feel as if he were being let into something more private, something unguarded. He paused, considering, before carefully choosing his words. “…Which one would you prefer for me to call you by?”
The king raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. “I suppose that depends,” he said, his voice low, almost teasing. “Are you offering to be… close?”
Johan’s breath caught slightly, and he could feel a warmth creeping into his cheeks. He hadn’t expected that reply, and he suddenly felt as if he were in over his head. Yet, the king—Judai—seemed so calm, almost enjoying his flustered reaction.
“Well…” Johan cleared his throat, struggling to keep his tone even. “You were the one who invited a stranger into your chambers out of nowhere, weren’t you?”
Judai chuckled softly, the sound rich and dark, as his gaze lingered on Johan. “True enough. Then, call me Judai.” He paused, as though savoring the moment. “After all, you’re the first guest I’ve invited here in… quite some time.”
Johan looked away, unsure what to make of that revelation. “Why me?” he found himself asking, almost without realizing it.
Judai leaned back, his golden eyes watching Johan intently. “Perhaps,” he said slowly, “I find you… intriguing.”
Johan couldn’t hide his surprise. “Intriguing?”
Judai’s gaze was unwavering, carrying a depth that sent a shiver down Johan’s spine. “Yes,” he murmured, the word heavy with something Johan couldn’t quite name. “Intriguing enough to keep close. Intriguing enough… to want to protect.”
Johan swallowed, feeling both exposed and strangely… safe.
Judai’s voice added, light and teasing. “And who knows, maybe if I protect you long enough, you’ll willingly want to reward me with a taste of you…”
Johan’s face immediately flushed, and he quickly turned away, avoiding eye contact. “Y-You…” he stammered, clearly flustered.
Judai chuckled softly, enjoying the reaction. “Of course, I meant a taste of your blood.”
Johan grimaced, turning the other way and crossed his arms, his face still red. “How expected,” he muttered under his breath.
Judai leaned back in his chair, his eyes drifting back to the fire as it crackled and popped. The warmth of the flames cast flickering shadows across the room, and for a moment, Judai let the peace of the night settle around them. He could hear Johan’s steady breathing, slowly softening as the young man drifted into a deep sleep. Judai’s gaze lingered on the back of Johan’s head, his thoughts wandering.
He whispered softly to himself, though it wasn’t entirely clear if he was speaking aloud. “Yubel.”
The spirit appeared beside him in an instant, her presence ethereal, like a soft whisper of wind. Yubel was a tall, graceful figure, her long flowing hair shifting with an ethereal light. She had piercing eyes that glowed faintly, like stars trapped in a stormy night sky. She wore dark, flowing attire that seemed to ripple and fade into the shadows, and her aura was one of both elegance and danger.
“Yes, Judai,” she responded, her voice a melodic echo.
Judai’s eyes were intense, though his gaze remained fixed on Johan. “It’s him… isn’t it?”
Yubel studied Johan carefully, her eyes narrowing as she took in the young man before them. She nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. “Yes, it’s him… but whatever that has happened here, it was not natural. This is the same Johan from 400 years ago. Just… 20 years older, give or take.”
Judai clenched his fist, the memory of that past weighing heavily on his heart. His teeth gritted as he spoke again, his voice filled with disbelief and regret. “How can this be…? The Johan I met 400 years ago… He was just a human… How could he be alive, 400 years after? And have only aged thus far?” His words faltered as a deep ache surged through his chest. The memory of that time—of the boy who had been so innocent, so full of potential—haunted him.
Yubel’s gaze softened, a flicker of sympathy in her eyes. “There were forces at play that neither of you could have anticipated, and you and I were… young. But… now that he’s here again… we need to understand what happened to him, and why.”
Judai’s jaw tightened. He didn’t want to admit it, but he knew Yubel was right. Something about Johan had shifted, but it wasn’t just his appearance. The aura around him felt different, more complex, like there were layers that Judai couldn’t yet penetrate. The boy he had known—the boy he had tried to protect so long ago—was now something else. Something… more.
“I’ve never stopped thinking about him, Yubel,” Judai murmured, almost to himself. “I thought he was lost to us, gone, forever. And now… now he’s here, and I don’t know what to make of it.”
Yubel’s eyes softened further, and she gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find out, Judai. You’re not alone in this anymore. You never were.”
Judai closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath as he exhaled the weight of the years that had passed. He wasn’t sure what was happening, or how Johan had returned to him. But he did know one thing—he would protect him this time, no matter what.
“I won’t let either of you down again,” Judai whispered softly, his eyes flicking toward the sleeping figure across the room.
Yubel gave a small nod, her form flickering slightly, as she disappeared into the shadows. Judai sat in silence, his thoughts swirling with unanswered questions, but a sense of resolve began to settle in his chest. Whatever it was that had brought Johan back into his life, Judai wouldn’t let the past repeat itself. This time, I won’t fail.