The night had grown heavy. The sky was drowned in black, clouds smothering the stars until only a few faint sparks flickered far above. Thiên Dực's small room lay still, every sound swallowed except for the steady tick of the wall clock and the slow, measured rhythm of his breath.
On the bed, Thiên Dực slept soundly, his expression soft, his features silvered by the pale shaft of moonlight spilling through the half-open window. The curtains stirred in the cold breeze—bringing with it something colder, heavier.
Alaric.
He lingered by the window for a long moment, tall and still, a figure painted in moonlight. His blue eyes—usually sharp and distant—were softened by a strange tenderness, though the cold gleam behind them betrayed something far deeper. Each step he took was deliberate, soundless, as if the floor itself feared to betray his presence, until he stood beside Thiên Dực's bed.
He gazed at the sleeping man, a faint, fragile smile tugging at his lips, fleeting as a dying flame in the still dark.
"You look… so peaceful," he murmured, voice low, breath brushing the silence like a secret meant for no one.
Alaric lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, his gaze drinking in every detail—the steady rise and fall of Thiên Dực's chest, the soft curve of his lashes, the strands of black hair trailing across the pillow. He leaned slightly closer, close enough for his breath to skim over warm skin, close enough to feel the subtle heat radiating from the human beneath him.
His fingers traced Thiên Dực's hand, halting at the faint, angry cut from the night before. For a moment, his expression shifted—something sharp flickering behind his eyes. Hunger. Ache. Possession.
"You shouldn't bleed… You shouldn't feel pain. Not when you're mine."
Closing his eyes, he drew in a breath, forcing down the surge of instinct gnawing at him—the coppery tang of remembered blood, the primal pull to taste what had been spilt. A faint glow, pale and silver, bled from his palm, washing over the wound like mist dissolving into air. Within seconds, the torn skin knit itself whole, leaving no scar, no trace of injury.
When Alaric opened his eyes again, they gleamed faintly, the unnatural glint of a predator barely restrained. His gaze softened as he studied the unmarked skin, but beneath it lingered a quiet, darker satisfaction, as though by healing the wound, he had claimed something deeper.
"This is how it should be… untouched."
He bent down, his lips brushing against Thiên Dực's hand in a kiss so light it could have been a ghost of a touch. But his lips lingered—warm, lingering, undeniably possessive—before he finally drew back. Without another word, he rose and stepped toward the window, his silhouette dissolving into the night air like mist.
The moment Alaric's presence faded, Thiên Dực stirred. His body jolted upright, heart pounding faster than it should. His eyes swept the dim room, every shadow too still, every sound too quiet. Yet the air still felt cold, as though someone had been there mere seconds ago.
"Someone… was here?" he muttered, voice rough with sleep.
His gaze darted around the corners, finding nothing. But when his eyes fell to his hand, he froze. The cut from the previous night was gone—no scar, no trace it had ever existed.
"How…?"
For a moment, he wanted to believe it had been a dream. But the faint chill still clinging to his skin, the subtle warmth lingering on the mattress, told him otherwise. After sitting in heavy silence, he let out a slow breath and lay back down, forcing his eyes shut.
"…It must've been a dream."
Outside, among the garden shadows, Alaric stood with his back against an ancient tree, his blue eyes fixed on the dimly lit window. A faint smile curved his lips—calm, but tinged with something colder. When the wind shifted, his figure faded, vanishing into the darkness as though he had never been there.
---
The following morning, the sun rose faint and pale, casting a silver haze over the quiet garden. Thiên Dực stood outside, watering the lush rows of greenery, the gentle patter of droplets soothing the remnants of last night's unease.
Then, a bright voice rang out behind him.
"Good morning! Lovely weather today, isn't it?"
Thiên Dực looked up to see Bích Ngọc—the neighbor from down the street—approaching with her usual bright smile.
"Yeah, it is. You're out early," he replied with a polite smile.
They exchanged a few casual words. Thiên Dực's soft laugh drifted on the morning breeze, light and fleeting.
From a distance, beneath the shadow of a tree, Alaric watched in silence. The blue of his eyes, once soft, deepened—darkening with each passing second. At first it was subtle, a faint tension in his jaw, a slow curl of his fingers. Then, as he saw Thiên Dực's smile—that smile—directed at someone else, something sharp coiled in his chest.
Jealousy. Hot, silent, and poisonous.
"Why… does it anger me so much?" Alaric muttered under his breath, his nails biting into his palm.
When Bích Ngọc reached out, her hand brushing Thiên Dực's shoulder in passing, something in Alaric's gaze shifted. The calm fractured. His eyes turned cold, glinting like a blade drawn in moonlight. The emotion rising inside him was no longer just hunger or longing—it was a possessive hunger, deeper than blood.
"You shouldn't smile at anyone else like that," he whispered, voice low and chilling, a promise more than a thought.
An idea began to take shape, solid and resolute. His lips curved, slow and deliberate, into a smile that was neither warm nor cruel—merely inevitable.
"If I stay by your side… if I never let you go… no one will ever come between us. Right, Thiên Dực?"
He retreated into the shadows, his eyes regaining a calm, almost serene glint, though the decision had already been made.
---
Later that afternoon, as the sun dipped low, Thiên Dực busied himself outside, rearranging the potted plants by the porch. When he lifted his head, he noticed a figure approaching along the narrow path.
Alaric.
Their eyes met. Alaric's lips curled into a gentle smile—warm on the surface, yet beneath it lurked something unreadable. He stopped a few paces away, his voice even, almost hesitant.
"Sorry to bother you… I just moved in nearby. I think we're neighbors, aren't we?"
Thiên Dực blinked, momentarily taken aback. The man before him was… striking. Too much so, like someone pulled from a film screen. For a fleeting second, a thought crossed his mind: Is he… some kind of celebrity?
"Oh? I see. Welcome. I'm Thiên Dực," he said with a polite smile.
"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Alaric," the stranger replied with a slight bow, his tone smooth, calm.
Thiên Dực tilted his head. "Sorry?"
Alaric paused for a fraction of a second, then smiled faintly, almost sheepishly.
"Ah… locals find foreign names tricky. You can call me Huyết Minh if it's easier."
Thiên Dực chuckled softly, nodding, not giving it much thought.
Alaric's head tilted slightly, his blue eyes glinting with a softness that masked something deeper.
"Would you mind… showing me around the area sometime? I'm still new to everything here."
"Sure, no problem," Thiên Dực replied easily. "The neighborhood isn't very big—I can show you the main spots."
He didn't notice the subtle shift in Alaric's gaze—the quiet, unwavering decision solidifying behind those calm eyes.
From this moment forward, Alaric would remain by his side.
And no one—not neighbors, not strangers, not even fate itself—would come between them again.
As the evening shadows lengthened, Alaric's smile softened, but in his eyes, a cold glint lingered—sharp, unyielding, like a promise whispered in the dark.
---
End of Chapter 3