Night fell like a heavy velvet curtain, cloaking the quiet neighborhood in an unsettling stillness. Dim streetlamps cast pale light, their glow flickering through the skeletal branches of dry trees that reached out like bony hands. At the very end of the street, in a small, secluded house, Thiên Dực busied himself in the kitchen, preparing a late dinner.
The golden light of the lamp pooled across the wooden table. The rhythmic sound of a knife against the cutting board filled the warm air—until a sudden slip broke the steady beat. Slash! The blade sliced into skin, and crimson welled instantly from his index finger. Thiên Dực winced, jerking his hand back on instinct. Blood dripped onto the table, staining the pale wood with dark, spreading blotches.
He hissed under his breath, irritation seeping through his voice:
"Damn it… How could I be this careless…"
Quickly, Thiên Dực snatched a tissue, wrapping the wound tightly to stem the flow. Yet even after the blood was cleaned, a faint metallic scent lingered, curling into the air of the kitchen. That subtle, familiar tang—unpleasant and sharp—seemed to leech the warmth from the room, leaving behind a chill that had not been there before.
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Outside, in the silent garden surrounding the house, Alaric sat with his back against an ancient tree. The entire day had been an ordeal—facing strange human laws and their wary stares had left his body and mind exhausted. His deep blue eyes drifted shut, his breaths slow, as if attuning himself to the quiet rhythm of this new world.
Then, a sweet, coppery note drifted through the air, brushing against Alaric's sharp senses. His eyes snapped open, the blue within suddenly glowing with an unnatural light. His body tensed, his breaths quickened.
That scent… blood.
"No… it can't be…" he muttered, his voice rough, barely more than a whisper carried by the night wind.
The hunter's instinct within him stirred, surging violently through his veins. His legs moved of their own accord, steady and deliberate, drawn by the intoxicating trail. Dry leaves crunched beneath his boots as he followed the scent—until the window of a small house came into view.
Through the fogged glass, warm golden light spilled out. Inside, Thiên Dực fumbled for bandages, still tending his wound. Another drop of blood fell, splattering across the table. That bright red spark ignited a roaring flame in Alaric's mind.
He pressed his palm against the wall outside, fingers curling so tightly his knuckles turned white. His glowing blue eyes trembled, struggling to suppress the hunger raging within.
"No… I mustn't. I cannot harm him…" he ground out, voice low and strained.
But the thirst clawed at him, relentless. It screamed inside his mind, urging him to take just one more step, to shatter the fragile glass barrier and end this torment. Alaric's chest rose and fell sharply, his shoulders shaking as though he were fighting against a storm that threatened to consume him whole.
---
Inside the kitchen, Thiên Dực suddenly shivered. A strange sensation crawled up his spine, as if unseen eyes were piercing the walls, tracing every movement he made. Slowly, he turned toward the window. Beyond it, only the thick, unmoving darkness awaited him.
He shook his head, muttering wearily:
"I really need to be more careful… What a cursed day."
He taped the bandage over his wound, trying to ignore the chill creeping into the room, though every gust of wind slipping through the window made him glance toward the blackness outside.
Beyond the wall, Alaric stood rigid, his nails digging so deep into his palms they tore his skin. Cold sweat slid down his temples as he lowered his head.
Why… am I this weak?
He inhaled deeply, forcing his breath to steady.
"This is their world… If I let my instincts take control and harm him… I will never forgive myself."
At last, the unnatural glow faded from his eyes. He stepped back, his figure dissolving into the darkness, vanishing as though he had never been there.
Inside, Thiên Dực finished dressing his wound, but his eyes lingered on the window, unbidden. There was a weight in the air, as if something—someone—had just departed, leaving only a whisper behind.
"Strange… Was someone just out there?" he murmured.
---
The next morning, a pale mist veiled the sky, the sun's rays spilling down like thin sheets of silver over the garden. Thiên Dực walked among the lush rows of flowers, watering can in hand. The scent of damp earth and faint blossoms soothed his restless mind after the long, uneasy night.
Then, his gaze caught on a faint red smear along the wooden frame of the kitchen window. The peaceful haze shattered. The stain stretched along the grain of the wood, faint but unmistakable—as though a hand had brushed it in passing before retreating.
Thiên Dực froze, setting the watering can aside, stepping closer. His fingers grazed the surface, and the faint, metallic tang clung to his senses.
"Blood…? But… why here?" His voice dropped, a thread of wariness weaving through his words.
His eyes swept across the garden. The wind stirred the branches, their rustling sounding eerily like footsteps weaving through the leaves. A tight unease coiled in his chest.
"Someone… was here?"
He shook his head, muttering to himself:
"No… It must be animal blood. There's no one else here…"
Yet despite his words, his hand trembled slightly around the cloth as he wiped the stain away. Each time he bent down, his gaze flickered to the shadowed forest beyond, as if fearing a figure might suddenly emerge.
---
From afar, concealed within the dense canopy, Alaric watched in silence. His deep blue eyes darkened, a swirl of emotions glimmering within: hunger, restraint, and a peculiar trace of tenderness.
"He's sensed it… I should not have come so close," Alaric murmured, voice barely audible.
But as the memory of last night's blood swept across his thoughts, another urge stirred—not the thirst, but a deeper, more dangerous pull: to keep him close, to shield him from everything, by any means necessary.
A faint, humorless smile touched Alaric's lips, his gaze distant.
"So contradictory… I shouldn't be here… yet I cannot leave."
Meanwhile, Thiên Dực forced himself to remain calm, tending to the flowers as though nothing had changed. He remained oblivious to the fact that, deep within the shadows, Alaric's eyes had never once left him.
A cold wind swept through, rustling the trees. Thiên Dực turned, a chill racing through his spine. Beyond the swaying branches, there was nothing but empty darkness. Alaric had vanished, leaving only the oppressive stillness behind.
Thiên Dực shuddered, whispering softly to himself:
"Why… does it feel like someone's watching me… Just like… last night."
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End of Chapter 2