The world is full of wonders. Though most people never stumble upon them, they're always there, lurking in shadows, breathing in silence, waiting for the right moment to reach out.
It's painful to get your blood sucked… yet somehow, it feels relaxing, like sinking into a deep, warm ocean where your body forgets to resist.
And then… just a snap of fingers. Everything is gone. The memory, the sensation, the very reason your heart had been racing.
You wake up and convince yourself nothing happened at all.
Society stands on this fragile stage of "normal," pretending there's nothing beyond the curtain.
Those who accidentally peek behind it aren't killed. No, rather their memories are plucked away like petals from a flower. What remains is a faint outline, a ghost of an event that refuses to fully disappear , the kind of thing that slips into folktales.
Blood-drinking monsters, human in shape. Eyes like gems in the dark, they became a myth, a bedtime story.
But the myth was simply the truth society didn't want to face.
And tonight, just like any other, the streets would once again belong to them.
Charlie had been raised with love.
The only son of a small but warm family. His parents ran a bakery on the ground floor of their house, a place that always smelled like fresh bread in the morning and vanilla cream by noon.
He'd grown up a good boy. Not the reckless type. Not the kind to sneak out or get in trouble. If it wasn't for homework or helping in the shop, he preferred to stay inside.
But tonight, he was late.
Not because he wanted to be, but it was because of the rain.
The sky had opened up hours ago, drumming hard on rooftops, drowning the streets in rippling black puddles. He'd been stuck at a friend's house waiting for it out. By the time it softened into a drizzle, it was already past ten.
The shops along the way home were all closed, their shutters pulled down like the streets were holding their breath.
Water clung to everything… the air, the pavement, even the faint glow of the streetlamps. The world felt… heavier.
Charlie walked quickly, the sound of his own footsteps splashing in shallow puddles keeping him company. And then… he felt it, an unusual presence.
It wasn't loud, not even clear. More like the kind of feeling that makes your skin prickle before you even know why. He slowed down, as his eyes scanned the shadows.
And there it was, he saw it.
Under a flickering streetlamp, maybe twenty meters ahead, a girl stood perfectly still. She was slightly shorter than him, wearing clothes too light for the damp chill of the night.
The lamp above her buzzed and flickered.
On. Off. On. Off.
Each time the light returned, it felt as though she was just a little closer.
Charlie's chest tightened. His feet refused to move.
The next time the light blinked off, there was nothing. When it came back… She was right in front of him.
A cold hand touched his cheek, fingertips brushing lightly, like testing the texture of something fragile. Charlie's breath caught, and when his eyes finally focused, he forgot how to breathe entirely.
Silver hair, silver eyes, but with pupils like deep emerald shards glinting inside.
Her face… it was the kind you could get lost staring at without realizing you'd stopped thinking.
She leaned in, voice a whisper against his ear.
"Can I have your blood?"
It was so absurd that his brain tripped over itself trying to process it. That wasn't something a normal person could just… ask.
Before he could respond, something stranger caught his attention — in the reflection of the puddle at their feet… only he was there, no girl existed in the reflection.
A tremor ran down his spine.
"What… are you?" he asked, voice barely holding together.
She smiled. Not a threatening smile. Not even particularly elegant. Just… stupidly casual, like she'd been asked whether she wanted sugar in her tea.
"Oh… I'm a vampire. So, allow me to have my dinner with your blood."
The word hit him like a thrown brick.
Vampire.
He'd read the term in novels, heard it in campfire stories. But hearing it said seriously from someone standing inches away , someone who wasn't casting a reflection , was a different kind of reality.
More importantly…
Why was this one so dumb to admit it?
Fear gripped him tighter than reason. His survival instinct , instead of making him run made him nod like an idiot.
"…Alright…"
Somewhere in the back of his head, a thought whispered:
What if I turn into a vampire for this?
But there was no time to think it through.
The girl's lips curled upward, and two sharp fangs slid into view.
Before he could step back, she tilted her head and sank them into the side of his neck.
Charlie's breath hitched. Pain bloomed first ,it was sharp and invasive … but it was followed by… something else. Something warm. A strange, almost pleasant relaxation spread through his nerves, like the tension was leaking out with the blood.
What… is this feeling?
It didn't feel like dying.
It felt… good.
Her grip loosened after a few moments, and she pulled back, her lips faintly stained.
"Don't worry," she said casually. "You won't turn into a vampire just from me sucking your blood. Anyway… you won't remember any of this."
"What—"
She snapped her fingers.
The world folded inward.
When Charlie opened his eyes again, the soft scent of baked bread told him exactly where he was home. He was lying in his own bed.
His parents said they'd found him collapsed right in front of the bakery.
He tried to protest, to say that couldn't be right… but the words wouldn't form. His memory was nothing but fog.
Still… there was something.
A faint, stubborn certainty that something had happened to him that night.
He just didn't know what.