Chapter Text
The candlelit tavern offers warmth and recluse from the frigid nighttime air. Although the chill against Jongho’s skin doesn’t bother him, the way it taints his mood and sours his soul is enough for him to dislike the cold.
He cradles a wooden mug of beer between his pale hands, bringing it up to his mouth occasionally but never truly drinking it. Across the cozy tavern, somebody enthusiastically plays music from a lute, which is worn down in a way that suggests it to be well-used. He sits alone, though not too long of a distance from the bar. Far enough to sit in silence, but close enough to hear some conversations and potentially catch the attention of anybody who dares look in his direction.
During the beginning of the night, there’s not much action. The patrons who enter the tavern either stick by themselves or stick with whomever they entered with. It makes Jongho wonder if he chose a poor place for tonight’s hunt, and he considers leaving in favor of searching elsewhere.
A few hours later, right as he’s ready to give up, he feels the stare of a young woman on the back of his head. Seizing this moment, he lifts a hand to lower the hood of his cloak, revealing more of himself to the woman showing interest in him.
The eyes flicker away before landing on him once more. Jongho can barely hold back a smile. He lifts his mug to his lips, letting a bit of it dribble down his chin and soak into his clothes. Feigning exasperation, he sets his beer down and stands, looking down at his damp button-up as though he can’t believe the mess he’s made.
He doesn’t look at the woman staring back at him until he’s only a few steps away. She’s turned around now, pretending to have not seen Jongho spill his drink on himself.
Her hair is striking, a platinum blonde which is nearing a bright silver. It cascades over her shoulders, flowing over the hood of her light blue cloak and stopping halfway down her back. There are thin braids blended within the thick strands of hair, hidden by gentle wind-rustled waves.
She’s wearing a long dress which matches the icy color of her cloak, subtle hints of white and brown in the details of her belt and long, droopy sleeves. The outfit makes her look like she’s come straight out of a winter-themed fairy tale, and Jongho can’t figure out why somebody with such a unique presence is sitting by herself inside of such a bustling tavern.
“Excuse me,” he says quietly, tapping the woman lightly on the shoulder.
She turns, eyes widening ever so slightly when she sees him. Her eyes are a gorgeous shade of blue, reminiscent of the deepest most mysterious parts of the ocean. Her features are delicate yet fierce, a powerful form of beauty that often belongs exclusively to the wealthy.
“Yes?” she asks after a beat of surprised silence, “Did you need something?”
“Would you mind handing me one of those?” Jongho asks, gesturing to the small stack of folded rags sitting beside her. He lets out a sheepish sound and looks at the stain in his shirt, “I seem to have missed my mouth.”
The woman can’t help but smile in amusement. “Oh!” she exclaims, reaching for one of the folded cloths and handing it over to Jongho. “Of course.”
“Thank you,” Jongho says kindly.
He wipes at his damp shirt, turning around and sitting on the stool beside the woman in a way he hopes appears completely nonchalant. The woman pauses next to him, her heartbeat just barely beginning to pick up—revealing her hidden desire. Jongho expects the woman to speak, to make some sort of comment or attempt to start a conversation, but she stays silent—perhaps playing coy.
“Every time I visit the tavern, I end up making a fool of myself,” Jongho tells the woman, trying to be the catalyst to a longer and more engaged discussion.
The woman peeks over at him, a smirk pulling at her plump lips. “I can see that,” she says, laughing softly. “But don’t worry, I embarrass myself sometimes, too. The tavern is a good place to do so.”
Jongho chuckles, shifting around on his stool to sit side-by-side with the woman. “I suppose you’re right,” he tells her. “I hear it’s not so bad when you’re with somebody, but I don’t have many friends to come here with.”
The woman puckers her lips in a small pout, regarding Jongho with a sympathetic look. “That’s too bad.” She takes a sip from her half-empty mug—Jongho can smell a fruity aroma, something sweet and light, and decides that it must be some sort of cider.
Interpreting his silence as hurt or disappointment, the woman clears her throat before continuing. “If it makes you feel any better,” she says, “I come here alone quite often. It can be fun, even when my friends are too busy to accompany me.”
“Really?” Jongho asks, leaning towards the woman subtly enough to be subconscious but obvious enough for her to feel his proximity. “I can’t think of anything more important than being in your presence. It sounds like your friends are missing out.”
The woman lets out a small noise of incredulity and looks away, but Jongho still catches the way her face darkens against her porcelain skin. He hears her heart beat a little faster in her chest, even if she scoffs and pretends to not be affected. “Oh, please…” she dismisses sheepishly. “You’re just saying that.”
“Are you calling me a liar?” Jongho asks, his voice taking on a teasing tone.
“Maybe I am,” she retorts with amusement. “I’m not familiar with you well enough to know otherwise.”
“I assure you, I’m an honest man,” Jongho tells her.
She turns towards him, light strands of hair framing her face perfectly as her eyes, intrigued, shift between his own. “Then show me,” she whispers to him. “Show me that you mean it.”
The forwardness is enough to make Jongho’s bold facade falter, though he catches himself before the hiccup becomes noticeable. He grins down at her, pointedly flickering his gaze down towards her lips. They’re smooth, colored a soft subtle rouge, and Jongho can’t tell if they’ve been colored with something or if it’s part of the woman’s natural beauty.
“I don’t do this with just anybody,” he says, lowering his voice so that only she can hear his words.
“Neither do I,” she replies softly, her pupils dilated with attraction as she scans every inch of Jongho’s face—taking it all in and waiting invitingly for him to make the next move.
His eyes flick down onto her lips, which are curved into a small, almost unnoticeable smile. He meets her sapphire eyes once more, leans in closer, watches as she longs for his lips to meet hers. He gets close enough to feel her short breaths against his skin. He can smell the hint of mango in her breath from the cider, along with a hint of something savory from the dinner she must’ve had no too long ago.
Instead of letting his lips brush against hers, he angles his head and moves towards her ear. Strands of her wavy hair poke against his skin and tickle the bridge of his nose. He takes a deep breath, relishing in the way her body shudders at the sensation.
“Then let’s go,” he whispers to her. He leans back slightly to meet her eyes, then nods towards the entrance of the tavern.
He stands from the stool and steps away, his boots creaking against the wooden planks laid across the floor. She follows his movements, slowly stepping from her own stool and putting her hand into Jongho’s when he holds his palm out towards her invitingly. Gently and patiently, he leads her through the tavern and out of the front door.
The mellow music from the lute quiets into nothing more than a vague melody, the sounds of clinking glass and murmured chatter falling into an ambient hum as they move away. Soon, nothing but the sound of the soles of their shoes against the cobblestone fills the air, accompanied by the chirping of cicadas and crickets.
It’s a humble village, not very large or extravagant, but populated enough for someone like him to go relatively unnoticed. This specific village is familiar to him, larger than where he grew up, though not by much. He visited here once, a long time ago. It feels like a lifetime has passed since then. In a way, it has.
He leads the woman away from the tavern, away from any prying eyes. They walk in silence through the village, passing by shops and houses, weaving through market stands and wooden carts. He approaches one of the empty market stands, pulling the woman towards him and embracing her in a soft hug.
She leans her head on his chest, not noticing the abnormally slow and faint heartbeat from within. “You’re so cold,” she observes, wrapping her arms around him and trying to bring him some warmth. If the chill to his skin unnerves her, she doesn’t mention it outloud.
“You’re beautiful,” he tells her. “Anybody would be lucky to lay their eyes upon you.”
From this close, he notices the silver brooch holding her cloak together. There’s an intricate design engraved in it, a horseshoe made with elegant lines and precise curls. He’s never seen anything like it before.
“What an exquisite design,” Jongho compliments, pulling away from her but keeping his hands firmly on her shoulders. He brushes his fingers over the clasp, “Where did you get it? Is it hand-made?”
She reaches up with long slender fingers to move the fabric of her cloak away, displaying her brooch for Jongho to see it more clearly. “Yes, it was a gift,” she explains simply, looking down at it fondly. She looks up at him, tilting her head back and exposing the side of her delicate and vulnerable neck, “I’m–”
She’s cut off by her own shrill scream as Jongho sinks his fangs into the thin skin of her neck. He holds her tightly, his enhanced strength leaving her frantic flailing completely worthless. She writhes in agony in his hold, trying to push him away, but to no avail.
In the bitter nighttime air, the fresh blood feels almost like it’s boiling as it moves down his horribly parched throat, each desperate gulp even more satiating than the last. His eyes close, savoring the bliss that only human blood can bring him. He doesn’t get to indulge like this very often, so he’s keen on savoring it while he can.
The woman’s struggle grows weaker and more hopeless as Jongho continues to feed from her, droplets of her own blood leaking down the nape of her neck and staining her light clothes. If Jongho weren’t feeling complete and utter euphoria as his hunger ebbs away, he might even feel bad about staining such a stunning outfit.
Slowly, the woman’s movements grow smaller, and her heartbeat begins to flutter as it slows down. Only once he feels her collapse against him, limp and unconscious, does he let himself detach from her neck. Two beads of blood leak from the puncture wounds, soaking into her cloak and causing a thin clump of hair to stick to her now crimson-streaked skin.
He lays her down on the ground, her prone body shielded by the wooden market stand. Flaps of her flowing gown and thin cloak droop over her body, pooling and framing her like some sort of fallen angel. Her hair, almost glowing in the moonlight, resembles a halo if viewed from the right perspective.
Jongho stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and licking off the blood which smears over his skin. The woman lays motionless on the ground, her chest rising and falling with weak, shallow breaths, her feeble heartbeat barely reaching Jongho’s ears. He looks down at her for a few moments, perceiving her with something akin to pity. Then, he leaves her there, not sparing her so much as a glance back in her direction as he walks away.
The temporary warmth which bloomed in his body from the feeding is almost entirely gone by the time he reaches the edge of the village, approaching the forest’s edge. The sun is just now beginning to rise on the edge of the horizon, dawn approaching lazily. He pulls the hood of his cloak back over his head, shielding his skin from the harsh sun rays he knows will arrive soon.
He sits behind the thick trunk of a tree, the bark jagged and rough as he leans his back against it. He lowers himself to the ground, sighing in content despite the twigs and dry chunks of dirt which seem to pierce him through his clothes. The forest is tranquil, stagnant.
Although he doesn’t necessarily need to, he closes his eyes and rests for now. He needs to prepare for tonight, for the masquerade he’s committed so long to finding and attending. So many of his own efforts and struggles have landed him here, to this very moment.
There was a time not too long ago when Jongho was human, but he was involved in the life of vampires regardless. He was a hunter, just like his father, and his grandfather, and his great grandfather… They were all hunters, and they were good at it. Jongho dedicated his whole life to making the world a safer place, not just because it ran in the family, but because he liked the feeling of helping people feel more at ease in any way that he could.
It all led him here. One hunt gone wrong, one mistake, one brief moment of weakness. That’s all it took to become the very thing he was so determined to kill.
The masquerade is hosted by none other than his very own sire, Eden—the vampire who turned him, abandoned him, and cruelly did the same with countless others, will continue to do the same for eternity if nobody stops him.
Jongho knew of Eden long before he became what he is now, and he still has the same goal. He’s going to hunt Eden down and kill him. He won’t fail like he did before.
Tomorrow will result in death, in the permanency of a lost life. Whether it be him or Eden, he’ll make sure a life is taken. Otherwise, all of his efforts up until now will have been in vain.
He’ll do it for the innocent lives that have been ruined. For his family, who couldn’t complete this hunt or spare Jongho from his fate. He’ll do it for the future lives that will flourish in Eden’s absence. And selfishly, he’ll do it for himself, because he’s bitter and full of vengeance even on the best of days.
The masquerade is held in the largest building in the entire village, sitting a comfortable distance away from the rest of the common buildings and unimpressive civilian homes.
It’s an obnoxiously detailed palace, with overgrown vines tracing its weathered stone sides, and spires so tall and sharp that it almost looks intentionally dangerous. The spires, along with a few round cupolas and a handful of regular slanted roofs, are tinted a dark color. Jongho mistakes it as midnight black at first, but then he realizes that it’s really a deep, rich crimson—an incredibly heavy maroon. It suits not only the gentle earthy tones of the palace’s walls, but it’s quite fitting for this type of masquerade, as well.
There are so many sections and towers scattered along the large building that Jongho can’t help but feel a bit overwhelmed. There are too many windows, too many doors, too many walls. He doesn’t trust it.
He wants nothing more than to turn around and never lay his eyes upon such a foreboding structure ever again, but he can’t. There’s too much at stake, and he’s gotten this far already. He might as well follow through, even if everything inside of him is screaming to get away.
Once the sky has comfortably settled into darkness, it’s not very difficult for Jongho to sneak inside unnoticed. There’s a decent crowd of people, all dressed head to toe in their fancy outfits, faces covered entirely with their equally expensive, intricate masks.
For the occasion, Jongho has dressed in a rather plain suit. He didn’t have many options, but the only suit sitting unattended in the tailor that could fit him was pure black with a few royal purple adornments. The crinkled pocket square, the shiny buttons, the essential neat bowtie, and even the custom made mask which covers the top half of his face, are all a deep violet. Reserved yet bold, in a particularly average way.
Jongho doesn’t care about his outfit, he only cares about getting inside and blending in until he locates Eden and consequently assassinates him. The crowd at the front of the palace is large enough for him to walk with them seamlessly towards the front doors, and lets him discreetly walk along the side of the palace instead of entering and checking in with the guards standing at the entrance.
He walks along the edge of the palace, passing by a few people who are too busy sucking on their cigars or catching up with one another to truly notice him. Once he spots the impressive balcony which wraps around the entire side of the palace, he knows it’ll be his way inside.
He digs his fingers and the toes of his dress shoes into the rough stone, pulling himself up the side of the building and slowly climbing his way up. Small chunks of rock cascade down the wall as he ascends upwards, his hands coated with a thick layer of grit. Steadily, he makes his way up the side of the palace, each movement heavy and forceful and fueled with nothing but determination.
Once he arrives just beneath the balcony, he listens for movement above, carefully ascertaining whether or not anybody is present to witness his arrival. He listens as footsteps step closer, then retreat back inside. After a few minutes, at which point Jongho’s arms are trembling from the strain of suspending himself against the stone, he decides that it’s quiet enough for him to proceed.
He kicks off the stone so he can reach the edge of the balcony, gripping one of the many thin bars of the railing so he can heave himself up. His legs dangle uselessly in the air for a moment as he reaches with his other hand to grab at another bar from the railing. The skin of his palms is stretched thin as it holds up his weight at such a difficult angle.
After a quick inhale of preparation, he grits his teeth and pulls himself up, his hands shimmying up the metal bit by bit until he’s able to pull himself over. Once he’s no longer hanging from the side of the palace and is standing normally on the balcony, he turns around and leans over the railing, taking a few moments to catch his breath after all of the exertion.
To anybody else, it will look as though Jongho is getting some fresh air and enjoying the beautiful view, taking a moment of recluse from the bustling crowd inside. Only he will be able to notice the way his chest heaves with shallow breaths, the quickened pace of his usually sluggish heartbeat, and the jagged indents of stone in the skin of his hands as he brushes them together to dust off the painful grit.
Once he gathers himself, Jongho steps away from the edge of the balcony and calmly makes his way inside of the palace. The sound of live music and inaudible chatter all but suffocates him the moment he steps indoors, seeming to erupt into a deafening roar to his sensitive ears.
It’s not very often that Jongho visits places with such large crowds. He makes sure to keep his expression controlled and stoic even from behind the disguise of his mask, not wanting to appear out of place.
He slowly makes his way through the crowds, stepping out of the way of dancing guests and nodding politely to everybody who meets his eyes. All the while, he scans the dense crowd in search of the reason for his visit—Eden.
Jongho has attended only one of Eden’s masquerades before, a few years ago, and he did so then with the intent of completing his hunt. This time is no different, except he’s no longer wandering through the extravagant palace as a human, and he will no longer cower in the face of death.
Unlike most of the guests, who are expected to dress in dark colors, Jongho knows that Eden’s disguise will be so bright that it’s nearly blinding. It makes the vampire easy to spot, which is exactly what he wants, because he’s the host of this elegant ball. If there’s anything Eden hates more than humans, it’s a lack of recognition and admiration.
It feels like the night passes by in a hectic blur. Jongho makes his way to the lower layer of the palace, wanders through the long winding hallways, stands at the stop of the steep staircase to search the crowd, and lingers near the tables serving food and drinks—all an attempt to subtly search for his sire.
For as much as he loves attention, Eden doesn’t seem to be very present during his own party. Jongho searches for more than an hour, stuck in some sort of revenge-induced haze, and he only snaps out of it when a young human boy, who can’t be more than a few years old, bumps clumsily into his legs.
“Sorry, mister,” the boy apologizes, his voice thin and squeaky with innocence. He’s dressed up similarly to the rest of the guests, wearing a tiny mask decorated with small fluffy feathers.
Jongho stares down at the boy and offers him a tight smile. “No worries,” he tells the boy. He watches blankly as the child returns to his mother’s side, clinging onto her long dress as she chats with a masked man and sips at her beverage.
Something similar to disgust fills Jongho’s stomach at the sight. Bringing such a young child to an event like this is something he just can’t understand. Eden’s masquerades, while popular and well-known, are notoriously known for being dangerous due to the generous population of vampires who attend. Any human who chooses to participate in such a risky game is well aware of the danger, and knows that this night of joyful festivities could easily be their last.
These risks don’t hold nearly as much weight when you’re young. Jongho knows, because he attended this ball a few years ago when he had barely turned into an adult—eager to find Eden and do what no other hunter succeeded in accomplishing.
His family had been here with him, he remembers that vaguely, but he doesn’t know much more than that. The night of his death and rebirth is one that he struggles to piece together. The status of his family, whether they’re dead or undead or still purely alive, is something that Jongho may never discover.
During his moments of distracted reminiscing, a flash of white moves from deep within the crowd, so hasty that Jongho isn’t sure if it’s simply a trick of the light or not. It catches his attention right away, and he begins stalking through the crowd to follow it.
He moves quickly and determinedly, not wanting to let this opportunity slip past him. He searches for Eden’s bright suit, eyes frantically flicking over the crowd as he tries to spot the figure again. He weaves through guest after guest, ducking away from their dancing and angling himself sideways to avoid spilling any of their drinks.
Finding Eden should be easy, it shouldn’t be this uncertain and doubtful. Jongho knows what he saw, and deep down he knows that it was Eden, but he can’t find the vampire anywhere. He feels himself grow weary with dread, wondering if his paranoia is causing him to hallucinate.
Then, he spots it. He cranes his neck and sees that familiar white figure making their way up the long staircase, hands folded neatly behind his back, the pace of his movements patiently relaxed.
It fills Jongho with irritation seeing the vampire existing so at ease. He hurries in the direction of the staircase, just barely preventing himself from breaking out into an obvious jog. He keeps a distance, but his eyes remain locked onto the back of Eden’s ignorant form.
His body buzzes with anger, an all encompassing sensation which pulls him forward and fuels his entire being, making him feel powerful and dangerous and careless—
He bumps shoulders with somebody hard enough to send him staggering out of his stupor. For a moment he considers continuing his descent upon Eden, watching helplessly as the vampire makes his way through the crowd and grows further away, but he doesn’t get the chance to. The person he ran into grabs onto his upper arm, fingers wrapped around him tightly enough to ground him but loosely enough to remain nonthreatening.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the person says apologetically, and Jongho notices their fangs right away, identifying them as a fellow vampire. “I didn’t see you there. Are you alright?”
The stranger’s hair is dark and long, curling around his face and hanging over his iridescent silver mask. It covers only the top of his face, glossy and decorated with small gems, bordered with intricate lace strips. There are similar silver details along the fabric of his clean suit, which fits over his long lithe limbs perfectly.
Jongho faces the vampire, casting an impatient glance over his shoulder at Eden before finally responding. “I’m fine,” he says, “just… in a bit of a hurry at the moment.”
He goes to turn around, but the vampire tightens his hold on his arm before he can leave the stubborn grasp. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks Jongho again. “You seem rather skittish.”
Running out of patience and unwilling to let years of planning go down the drain for such an insignificant encounter, Jongho wrenches his arm away from the vampire’s hold and steps away. “My apologies for running into you,” he says, his voice dark and low, conveying his lack of good grace. He’s already turned halfway around when he mutters out a quick, “Enjoy your night.”
Hastily, he hurries in the direction he was originally headed, but he can no longer see his sire within the horde of masked guests. He all but runs through the large building, eyes wide and alert as he tries to spot the familiar stark white suit.
When Jongho reaches the other side of the great hall without spotting any sign of Eden, he takes a moment to get his bearings and search the sea of people once more. The possibility of losing sight of the very thing he’s been hunting for so many years just isn’t something he can accept, so he refuses to give up so quickly.
He returns to his blind searching, pushing through people to reach the food and drink bar, walking along the walls, peeking into each long hallway, and going up and down the staircase to make sure he doesn’t miss anything on either level.
The palace is large, but it’s not ginormous. Jongho knows logically that there are only so many places for Eden to go, only so many spots for him to hide. Eden is elusive—it’s how he’s gotten away with such a drawn out massacre for so long. This is to be expected.
Jongho falls into another daze of watching and waiting, looping around each floor enough times that he’d be worried about looking suspicious if he weren’t so hellbent on locating his sire. Time seems to go by quickly, everything happening in a blur. The only thing signifying how long he’s been wandering around are the blisters bleeding on the back of his heels from where his untailored dress shoes dig painfully into his skin.
Although the night is still young, Jongho knows that many guests will begin leaving shortly. As the host, he’s sure Eden will remain here for a few more hours, but Jongho doesn’t want to rely on that assumption alone. He wants Eden dead, and he needs it to happen tonight. He can’t waste time waiting for the vampire to stumble into his view, but he can’t spend all night pacing around like a maniac.
He closes his eyes and takes a deep, shaky breath. After one more look around, he decides to allow himself a few minutes outside on the balcony, just to recollect himself and come up with a more organized plan.
Even when he was a human, one of Jongho’s most impressive traits was his ability to stay calm and collected under the most stressful of circumstances. He can’t let his own rage and vehemence get in the way of his performance.
If Eden doesn’t die tonight, it’ll be another few years before he hosts his next masquerade, and Jongho isn’t willing to wait that long. Besides attending these balls, the whereabouts of Eden are largely unknown, and Jongho doesn’t even know where to begin if he were to try to locate the vampire all on his own.
The air inside of the palace is stuffy, so Jongho doesn’t waste time in making his way back towards the balcony. Most guests are intoxicated now, having helped themselves to the refreshments. Jongho knows that now’s around the time that the vampires attending will begin hunting, when the humans are unaware and too inebriated to properly fight back.
Some days, he wishes he could remember the night of his turning. He doesn’t remember if he drank to calm his nerves, or if he just stood around suspiciously. At some point, he had to have gotten alone with Eden in order for the vampire to turn him—but what led up to that moment? Did he play nice and try to gain Eden’s trust, or did he try to attack him the moment he saw the opportunity?
He wonders how many humans will die tonight, blood drained from their bodies and leaking from the puncture wounds in their fragile necks. He wonders how many humans will become corpses, how many corpses will become vampires, and how many vampires will become sires.
An endless pattern of killing and turning and dying, and it will never stop. The thought makes Jongho feel lost sometimes, like he’s stranded in the middle of the ocean with no land nearby to seek purchase on. So many years of solitude has left him feeling… odd.
The breeze has picked up a bit, and he feels the refreshing air brush over him before he even steps outside. The stars are so bright that they light up the entire village and bounce off of the balcony, reflecting off of the shiny surface of the metal railing and fancy marble floor.
Jongho used to hate nighttime, but now he lives trapped within it. Something inside of him wants to laugh at the irony, or maybe it wants to scream at it, he isn’t sure. He doesn’t remember the last time he was sure about anything.
He shakes his head to clear his thoughts. Being back in the place he was turned is affecting him a bit more than he thought it would, and it’s making him feel disconnected. He hopes some fresh air will aid in composing himself.
Just as he’s about to step out onto the balcony, he sees something that makes his sluggish heart stop. His body freezes, eyes wide and unbelieving behind his mask, as he stares at the figure standing before him.
It’s Eden. He’s turned away, the back of his blindingly white suit facing Jongho. He’s leaning over the railing and watching the scenery below as if he were seeing nothing more than an army of ants, standing still and so self-assured.
Jongho ducks behind the open door leading to the balcony, shielding himself from Eden in case the vampire turns around. His sire is standing only a short distance away, one push away from a devastating fall.
It’s only when Jongho stops to form a plan does he hear that Eden is enjoying the company of another guest, chatting casually and dishing out a few insincere laughs here and there.
Jongho listens carefully, leaning forward slowly to get a good look, and is surprised to see the silhouette of a short man who can’t be much older than Jongho. Besides the heart beating inside of his chest, the most apparent thing is the human’s breathtaking fashion, which differentiates him from the countless other guests.
His suit is similar to Eden’s, though it’s been tailored and modified heavily, the work so meticulous that Jongho is positive it’s been done entirely by hand. The white fabric isn’t as sterile as Eden’s, appearing to be more of a warm cream, hints of gold scattered around the suit in the form of stitches and buttons.
It’s eye-catching, and easily makes him stand out, but that doesn’t tell Jongho anything about who this person even is. Even if the stranger and Eden were turned around, the masks would conceal their identity. Jongho can’t help but wonder what makes this human special enough to earn him time alone with Eden himself, separated from the rest of the party.
Jongho decides that it doesn’t matter. If he tackles Eden from behind, while the vampire is distracted and off balance, he should have just enough time on the way down to snap Eden’s neck and force the man’s head to meet the pavement below.
He frowns as he thinks of the outcomes. Even if Jongho managed to use all of his body weight to smash Eden’s head into the ground, there’s no telling if Eden would gather himself enough to brace himself and prevent his skull from caving in upon impact. Snapping his sire’s neck won’t do much besides render Eden immobile for a few seconds, but doing so would take time away from properly positioning himself for the landing, and then he’d only have a few seconds to recover before Eden is healed and moving again.
Decapitation, Jongho decides, is the safest option. It’ll be much more difficult to pull off, but then he wouldn’t need to worry about the landing or aftermath at all.
He could focus all of his attention into the twist and the pull, concentrate on the cracking of vertebrae and the stretching of Eden’s skin as Jongho uses all of his strength to tug and rip and claw—
A hand on his shoulder startles him out of his planning. He barely holds back a gasp, whipping around to face the newcomer, and he’s surprised at what he sees.
“You again?” Jongho hisses incredulously, glaring at the familiar glossy mask and elegant suit of the vampire in front of him, the one he accidentally ran into earlier.
Instead of responding, the vampire grabs into Jongho’s shoulder and pulls him away, just out of sight from the balcony. Jongho, stunned into a disbelieving silence, doesn’t think to fight it until his back is pressed against the wall—but by then, he’s already cornered by this pushy vampire.
He goes to demand a question, but the vampire beats him to it, speaking in a soft tone as if he doesn’t want to be overheard. “What are you doing?” he asks Jongho, dipping forward so his words reach far enough.
Jongho stares at the vampire in front of him, then cranes his neck to look back at Eden, wanting to ensure that the vampire is still on the balcony. From this angle, Jongho can’t see past the balcony door which is propped open, and the lack of sight makes him burn with irritation.
When he realizes he’s been completely silent instead of answering, Jongho racks his brain to think of an excuse. He can’t admit to an assassination attempt, that much is certain, but he knows he was acting too suspicious to play off his stalking as anything else.
“I was…” Jongho looks in the direction of Eden again, as if he’ll be able to see past the wall, but it proves to be worthless. “I was planning on feeding,” he says, and it sounds awkward even to his own ears. He clears his throat, “On the human.”
The vampire’s face is unreadable in front of him, partly thanks to the mask. He looks at Jongho silently, as if he’s waiting for him to change his answer or elaborate.
“It’s what I came here for,” Jongho lies. “So, if you don’t mind…” He pushes himself away from the wall and tries to head back toward the balcony, but the vampire uses his arm to keep him from moving away.
“A newborn, perhaps?” the vampire questions. His voice is quiet and hushed, as if he were speaking to nobody but himself.
Jongho bristles at that. “What?”
“I can sense your deceit,” the vampire admits knowingly. “It’s like that during the beginning, but you’ll get better at it with time.”
So he’s been caught in a lie. Jongho swallows and tries to keep his cool, not wanting to be too obvious about how flustered he’s feeling at the confrontation. The vampire in front of him must be quite seasoned, if he’s speaking with such wisdom. But that doesn’t excuse his stubbornness, and Jongho is far past the point of forgiving such idiocracy.
“What do you want?” Jongho asks cautiously. He leans back against the wall, more to get some distance from the strange vampire than to show his compliance.
The vampire, shockingly, smiles. “My name is Seonghwa,” he introduces. “I believe I’m here for the same reasons you are.”
Jongho lets out a loud breath of surprise, but tries to disguise it as a sharp humored laugh. “To feed?” he asks, feigning naivety.
The vampire, Seonghwa, shakes his head and glances in the direction of Eden, seeming to take a moment to reassure himself before replying. Then, he speaks so quietly that Jongho almost misses it, the words nearly buried beneath the weight of their meaning.
“To stop Eden.”
Jongho, of course, doesn’t believe that for a second.
He hopes his mask covers the astonished look that flashes over his face, but judging from the way Seonghwa’s lips pull into a small satisfied smile, he doesn’t think he got away with it. He looks at Seonghwa’s eyes, watching for signs of dishonesty or trickery, though he finds nothing but sincerity.
Still, he can’t risk slipping up now. “You’re mistaken,” Jongho says, clearing his throat when it wavers slightly. “I’m only here for–”
“There’s no point in denying it,” Seonghwa interrupts. “You search around with a purpose, and walk with haste. Anybody could easily see that your intentions are far from innocent.”
Jongho is stunned into silence. Before he can think of something to argue with, the sound of footsteps from beside him catches his attention, and he turns just in time to see Eden and the unknown human walk right past them.
The human glances at Seonghwa, so quickly that it’s almost unnoticeable, and then he continues to follow the vampire. They head through the great hall, away from the balcony and toward one of the many hallways.
Jongho pushes past Seonghwa to trail them, knowing that losing sight of them now could end up being detrimental. If Jongho fails to see which hallway they go through, and what room they duck inside of, the human’s life will no doubt be drained from him by the time Jongho manages to find him.
He only makes it a few steps before he’s grabbed again, and he knows it’s Seonghwa without even having to turn around.
“Let go,” he growls, trying and failing to wrench his arm out of the iron grip around it. “They’re–”
“It’s part of the plan,” Seonghwa says. “My entire coven is here, blending in with the crowd. They’re probably watching us right now.”
Jongho tries again to rid himself of Seonghwa’s hold, but the vampire is unrelenting and strong. “Your plan is to use a human as live bait?” Jongho questions through gritted teeth.
“What?!” Seonghwa scoffs, “No, Hongjoong is a member of my coven. He’s in on all of this.”
Humans being members of vampire covens is practically unheard of, but Jongho doesn’t have time to linger on his bewilderment. He shakes his head, scowling at the vampire who’s still holding him in place.
“That makes it all the more cruel,” he says. “He’s one of your own, but you’re still willing to let him get killed?”
Seonghwa lets out a noise of exasperation, “No! Listen, he’s not going to die. Nobody is going to die–”
“Then why are you letting him be isolated with that monster?!” Jongho asks, brazenly seething now.
“Listen to me!” Seonghwa asserts. “My coven is scattered throughout the building—they’re following Eden’s location, acting as distractions, keeping a lookout for any complications, and staying on standby in case they’re needed. My priority is always the safety of my coven. There are guards in the hallways, in case you haven’t noticed. You can’t just blindly follow Eden, it’ll get you killed.”
“Then how do you plan on killing him?” Jongho asks in frustration. “The human, Hongjoong, won’t be strong enough to fend him off. If you’re scared of the guards, then you won’t be able to get close enough to help him in time.”
“Wait, no, we can’t kill Eden,” Seonghwa says, as if it were obvious. “We’re here for information above all else.”
Jongho is momentarily shocked that he just accidentally revealed his intent to assassinate his sire. He looks over his shoulder, barely managing to get a glimpse of Eden and Hongjoong’s bright suits entering a hallway on the far side of the room.
“Do you even have a plan?” Seonghwa asks suddenly, drawing Jongho’s attention back towards him. “Do you know what Eden’s death will cause?”
“Yes, and I’m willing to die to ensure his extermination,” Jongho answers sternly. “My plan is to kill him no matter what, without risking any lives in the process.”
As their argument has grown more heated, more guests have shown interest and curiosity in the confrontation, lingering nearby and murmuring quiet words to each other. Jongho looks around at them slowly, ashamed to have drawn the attention of so many people.
Seonghwa seems to notice the unwanted scrutiny as well. He releases his hold on Jongho’s arm, stepping closer so he can speak discreetly without being overheard. “Eden is one of the oldest known sires still alive,” he tells Jongho darkly. “Countless covens and powerful rogue vampires are loyal to him, and they’ll all wreak havoc following his assassination. The society of vampires as we know it will be disrupted, and numerous lives will be lost on both sides. It’s not worth it.”
Jongho is running out of time, and doesn’t want to waste another moment with this futile back and forth. He takes a deep breath, and then tries to speak as bluntly and clearly as possible so that Seonghwa can understand his intentions.
“The aftermath of his death is none of my concern,” he says. “The world will be better off with Eden gone.”
“He’s a horrible person, there’s no doubt about that.” Seonghwa sighs, “But the results of his death are much more significant than your petty vendetta.”
Jongho doesn’t bother humoring Seonghwa with a reaction or response. He pivots on his heel, pushing through a sea of ignorant and unintelligent people as he heads straight for the far hallway, where he last saw Eden and Hongjoong.
If he doesn’t use this opportunity, then he might not get another chance. Catching Eden while he’s not only distracted by a human, but separated from the rest of the masquerade? It’s like these past few years of suffering and misery have finally added up to finally grace Jongho with some good luck.
Unsurprisingly, he hears the sound of Seonghwa’s rapid footsteps approaching from behind as the vampire tries to catch up with Jongho. He tries to grab Jongho once again, but Jongho jerks away to avoid it, no longer willing to let himself get slowed down.
“Please, you’re being reckless!” Seonghwa hisses, trying and failing to stop Jongho as he storms through the great hall. “I understand your frustrations, but you need to–!”
They’ve caught the attention of a guard, dressed in a plain gray suit and equally plain full-face mask, who asks, “Is everything alright?”
Seonghwa manages to land a hand on Jongho’s shoulder and pulls him hard enough to unbalance him, forcing him to stop for a few short moments to regain his footing. The guard slowly walks up to them, regarding them both with a long suspicious look.
“Everything is fine, sir,” Seonghwa answers chipperly, trying to salvage the situation from getting out of hand. He pats Jongho on the back, “My friend here got lost on his way to the balcony, my apologies!”
The guard doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but lets out a sound of acceptance. “Alright, then.”
Seonghwa tries to tug Jongho back in the direction they came from, but Jongho doesn’t budge. “Come on,” Seonghwa tries, “let’s–”
Jongho lunges forward and wraps his hands around the guard’s throat—who’s able to do nothing more than let out a weak choked sound as his body is pinned to the cold marble floor. The guard, who’s only a human, kicks and flails uselessly beneath Jongho, desperate for air and struggling immensely against Jongho’s strength.
Weak, barely audible sounds of pain escape the guard as Jongho squeezes the man’s windpipe. He makes sure to squeeze hard enough to cut off the blood and air supply, yet not forceful enough to break the human’s neck. He has no intentions of killing anybody besides Eden, but he has no quarrels about harming a few people for the sake of the greater good.
If the guard wasn’t wearing such a large mask, Jongho is sure he’d be able to watch as the man’s face turned pink, then red, then purple. The fight gradually weakens, but Jongho doesn’t let go until the guard goes completely limp beneath him.
It’s only once he releases his grip on the guard’s neck does he realize that Seonghwa has been trying and failing to pull him away from the man this entire time. Jongho lets Seonghwa pull him to his feet, but he stands firmly in his position once he’s standing, not letting himself get dragged away.
“You need to stop!” Seonghwa scolds, panicking even more as three guards from down the hall begin running towards the commotion. “You’re ruining the plan!”
Jongho stalks towards the incoming guards, fists clenched at his sides as he prepares to fight. “Your plan,” he corrects Seonghwa coldly. “Not mine.”
He quickly identifies that two of the guards are vampires, which complicates things slightly, but doesn’t make his advancing falter. Wanting to do this as quickly and quietly as possible, he goes for the human guard first.
They don’t require much more than an efficient hit to the chin to send them sprawling onto the ground unconscious, which leaves Jongho facing the vampires, which he knows will be more of a challenge. He won’t be able to kill them easily, so he decides that he’ll have to settle for subduing them long enough for him to find and enter the room Eden and Hongjoong are inside of.
Jongho doesn’t prioritize being agile or defensive, rather preferring to accept blows and dish them out with all of his strength. So, when the closest vampire guard lunges towards him to try and restrain him, Jongho lets them.
They seem to be trying to tackle Jongho to the floor, positioning themself low and steady with their arms wrapped around Jongho’s torso. But they aren’t strong enough to succeed, and Jongho doesn’t do much more than stagger from the momentum before he’s recomposed and ready for more. He squeezes his arm against the guard’s neck, trapping it against his body and preventing them from separating.
He reaches forward with his other arm, grabbing the guard by their own waist, then throws himself backwards. The guard’s feet leave the ground as their body arches over Jongho’s, the movement nothing more than a hasty blur before Jongho is landing on the guard’s head, feeling their skull shatter as it forcefully hits the marble.
The guard collapses, folding over their own body and landing in a crumpled heap on the floor. By the time Jongho is certain that they’re down for at least the next few moments, the other guard reaches him and actually manages to tackle him to the ground.
They roll a few times as the momentum carries them across the floor, and Jongho ends up pinned under the guard by the time they come to a halt. They land a few hits on Jongho before he’s bucking them off, growling as he reaches behind his mask to nudge his broken nose back into place.
Warm blood flows from his nostrils, leaking into his mouth and staining his teeth a dark, intimidating crimson. He bares them animalistically as he scurries back towards the guard on all fours.
The guard lets out a startled yelp as Jongho wrestles them to the ground. Their strength seems to be more closely matched than the other vampire guard, but Jongho is confident that he’s still stronger.
He proves to be correct, grinning in satisfaction as he overpowers the struggling guard, feeling the radius and ulna of both forearms snap under the pressure of his brawn. The guard howls in pain as the sharp bones pierce through their skin, now unable to defend themself as Jongho firmly grabs their head and begins to bash their skull into the ground.
The loud repetitive sound of hard scalp against marble fills the hallway, eventually growing softer as the guard’s skull crumbles with the force. The guard’s desperate writhing soon stills, the puddle of dark blood pooling beneath their head being the only sign of movement.
Jongho pushes himself off of the guard and gets to his feet, glancing to make sure that the other vampire is still incapacitated before brushing off his blood-splattered suit and stepping away from the scene.
As he moves down the hallway, he tries to listen for the sound of Eden’s voice through the closed doors of the multiple rooms, but he’s stopped once again as an unfamiliar vampire moves in front of him to block his path, Seonghwa standing nervously at his side.
Jongho knows from the suit and mask that it’s not another guard, but he’s too furious to care at the moment. The new vampire opens his mouth to say something, presumably an attempt to get Jongho to stop his rampage, but he isn’t able to finish before Jongho is reeling his leg back and kicking the vampire’s shin hard enough to instantly fracture the tibia.
The vampire muffles a sound of pain as he lowers to kneel on the ground, Seonghwa too distracted with following the movement to stop Jongho as he pushes past both of them. He thinks that maybe they’re trying to tell him something as he storms away, but he doesn’t care to listen—too busy focusing on locating Eden.
He passes by a few silent rooms, the extravagant doors left cracked open slightly, signifying that they’re unused. Near the end of the hallway, he spots a closed door, and he can hear quiet voices coming from within.
Not wanting to alert Eden, he keeps his footsteps silent and careful as he approaches the room, smiling slightly when a slow turn of the handle reveals that it’s unlocked. He pushes the door open, recognizing Eden’s voice as he casually talks with Hongjoong.
The hinges don’t make a single noise as the door is opened and quietly closed, and he uses the opportunity to maintain his stealth for the moment. Eden and Hongjoong are near the other side of the room, settled on two luxurious chairs, sitting in front of a warmly lit fireplace. Their backs are facing him, not noticing his presence yet.
Eager, and determined not to give away his position, Jongho ducks into the corner to begin planning his attack. The crackling of the fireplace offers a steady sound throughout the intricately decorated room, giving Jongho some leeway with his stealth. It makes him feel more confident in his abilities.
A quick glance around the room inspires an idea to pop into his head, and he wastes no time in executing it. Using one of the ornate columns bracketing the door, he crawls up the wall. He keeps his movements precise and cautious, not wanting to make any sounds that will cut through the consistent sputtering from the fire.
His fingers are raw and bleeding as he makes his way up the wall and towards the ceiling, his arms quivering with the strain of digging onto the limestone surfaces, creating indents just steep enough for him to gain purchase on. Once he’s made it to the ceiling, he uses the elaborate protrusions from the captivating design to reach the chandelier hanging in the center.
As he does this, he finally decides to listen in on Eden and Hongjoong’s conversation. They’re talking calmly, not having been alerted to Jongho yet, which he’s proud of.
“It’s a family heirloom,” Hongjoong is saying quietly, showing something to Eden. “I’m sure you recognize it, don’t you?”
Jongho looks down at them, seeing Hongjoong present a beautiful ring to Eden, who seems to be quite familiar with it. “I haven’t seen this in ages,” he says, taking the ring and admiring it as he holds it up with his fingers.
“How long has it been?” Hongjoong asks. "A few decades?”
Eden lets out an amused sound, handing the ring back to Hongjoong, who places it on his pointer finger. “It’s been longer than that, my friend,” he says. “Closer to a few centuries. My grandfather, bless his soul, was the first one to pass down that ring. Then he gave it to my father, who gave it to me, and eventually it found its way down to you.”
“It has quite the history, then,” Hongjoong comments in awe, looking down at the mentioned ring. “I had no idea it had been around for so long.”
“Me neither,” Eden replies. “I thought it had gotten lost decades ago, but it’s still around. I’m impressed.”
“It’s been well taken care of,” Hongjoong tells him.
Eden hums. “So it seems.”
He stands from his chair, making Jongho pause his movements for fear of having been caught, but Eden simply moves towards the fireplace and picks up the fire poker, moving around some of the burning logs to help the flames become stronger.
“I feel relieved,” Eden says, not turning around as he speaks in favor of tending to the fire. “I hadn’t thought our bloodline survived so long. To meet you—to meet family—it brings me a lot of joy.”
Hongjoong shifts in his seat, and if Jongho didn’t know any better, he’d think that the human was feeling a bit uncomfortable. But, when he speaks, his voice comes out sounding even. “I feel the same way,” he says. “Besides my mother and father, I didn’t think I had any family.”
“No other surviving relatives?” Eden questions rhetorically. He lets out a pitiful sound, “That’s too bad. I’m not surprised, nor upset. I’m sure you understand.”
“I… do,” Hongjoong says, but he’s clearly lying. “I’m not on the best of terms with my father. I assume you didn’t have a close relationship with yours, either?”
Eden chuckles. He’s still poking at the fire, even though it seems unnecessary at this point. It seems to be more of an idle action to give him something else to do.
“That’s a polite way of putting it,” Eden tells Hongjoong. “I resented my father every second he was alive. There used to be more of us—aunts, uncles, cousins—but they weren’t much better. I’m almost glad we’ve been reduced to only four members.”
“Do you still feel resentful towards them?” Hongjoong asks.
“Of course I do. I get a bitter taste in my mouth when I think of them. They’re still my family, I’m unable to change that, but that in itself doesn’t guarantee my forgiveness.”
Jongho hears Hongjoong swallow nervously. “Well,” the human says, “family is family, no matter the conflicts. Conditional love is still love, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes,” Eden says, turning and facing Hongjoong with a small smile. “I suppose so. Knowing that you and I share the same blood, it makes me feel familiar with you, although tonight is our first proper meeting.”
Eden places the fire poker back where he got it, leaning it against the wall beside the fireplace. Jongho watches from the ceiling, half of his view blocked from the chandelier hanging right in front of him. He expects the other vampire to sit back down in the chair he was settled into before, which Jongho has positioned himself directly above for his attack, but Eden simply remains standing near the fire.
Jongho senses that he’s been caught before Eden even speaks, meeting the eyes of his sire as the vampire glances up at where Jongho’s hanging from the ceiling.
“It’s rude to eavesdrop on people’s conversations,” Eden says darkly.
With a loud growl, Jongho swings towards Eden and drops from the ceiling, trying to land on the vampire’s shoulder so he can target the neck and efficiently decapitate his sire. He expects the descent to be fast enough to beat Eden’s reflexes, but he’s wrong.
Eden manages to move out of the way just in time to wrap a hand around Jongho’s throat, twisting him around and slamming into the marble floor. The momentum paired with Eden’s immense strength causes Jongho’s body to crack the marble floor upon impact. He would’ve shouted in pain if all of the air wasn’t knocked out of his lungs, so instead, his mouth opens uselessly as he grabs Eden’s wrist and tries to pry his sire’s hand away from his neck.
From not too far away, Hongjoong lets out a startled yelp and scrambles out of his chair, moving away from the vicious fight that has erupted before him. He seems surprised to see Jongho, unlike Eden, so he must not have been able to sense Jongho like the other vampire could.
“How annoying,” Eden seethes under his breath as he tightens his fingers around Jongho’s throat.
Jongho feels pressure build in his skull as he’s strangled, trying to kick at Eden who’s crouched nonchalantly beside him as if this were an everyday occurrence. Jongho manages to land a hefty kick just under his sire’s jaw, the sharp edge of his dress shoe leaving a long gash beneath Eden’s chin, staining the front of his white suit with blood.
The brief moment of knockback from the aggressive blow is enough for Jongho to ram the heel of his hand into Eden’s elbow, snapping the bone just long enough to escape from the hold around his neck.
He scrambles to his feet just in time to watch Eden shake out his broken elbow, the limply hanging limb returning back into place after only a few moments. His healing is almost instantaneous, a true testament to the vampire’s age and experience. The gash on his chin has already stitched itself together, leaving nothing but a dribble of blood in its wake.
Jongho scowls and charges forward, trying to claw at Eden’s eyes so he can have the upper hand for even just one moment. For his age, Eden is shockingly agile. He steps out of the way right before Jongho can reach him, the younger only succeeding in ripping a tear in Eden’s suit near the shoulder.
Before Jongho can recover from his failed attack, something coated in burning heat is stabbing him through the torso, and a wounded shriek rips its way out of his throat. Eden, who has somehow managed to grab the fire poker again, jams the iron tool through Jongho’s body agonizingly slowly, wanting it to hurt as much as possible. The suffocating smell of burning flesh fills the room, and Jongho can feel his skin and his insides blistering at the immense heat.
Jongho wails as the fire poker gets shoved deeper through his body, grinding roughly against his bones as it passes between two of his ribs and pierces straight through his liver. The hook on the end of the fire poker gets caught on his rib cage on its way through him, so Eden twists the tool around to maneuver it enough to puncture through his back, leaving Jongho effectively skewered.
Disoriented by the torment, Jongho can do nothing but blindly swing at Eden. Only once he’s completely impaled by the fire poker does he think to grab the tool himself, gripping onto it tightly and preventing Eden from pushing it through his body any further, though it’s a bit too late for it to have any sort of benefit. His breaths come out as nothing more than short, raspy pants as he tries to block out the overwhelming pain enough to think properly.
Eden tries to stab Jongho even deeper, but the resistance from Jongho’s grip doesn’t allow him to. So, instead, he rotates the fire poker again, the hook digging into the skin along Jongho’s spine.
Eden tugs harshly, a sudden change in force that catches Jongho off guard, and he cries in pain as he’s swung around to face the other direction, his hands shaking violently as he keeps an iron grip on the fire poker, not minding the painful sizzling coming from his palms. It’s nothing compared to the burning agony tearing through his insides.
Quickly and seamlessly, as if this entire scenario had been rehearsed countless times before, Eden switches the focus of his strength once again. He pushes forward, and Jongho can only stagger backwards with a wavering bellow. He doesn’t want to fall backwards, lest he fall on the fire poker’s hook and sever his spine—which would leave him paralyzed just long enough for Eden to easily kill him.
He nearly trips, his foot slipping under the corner of a fur rug and getting caught on the corner of one of the bricks making up the fireplace, but he miraculously manages to stay upright. Soon, there’s no more space for him to move backwards, and the point of the fire poker is forced through the limestone wall behind him.
Helpless to stop what’s happening, Jongho growls as he tightens his grip on the handle of the tool impaling him. Once the fire poker is deeply embedded in the wall, trapping Jongho against it, Eden lets go with a deep sigh. He wipes his blood-covered hands on his white dress pants, leaving behind smeared red hand prints.
Jongho is skewered to the wall, unable to move. His hands remain wrapped tightly around the handle, not daring to move and cause his body even more damage. The hook on the end, even if it weren’t firmly nestled within the wall, prevents him from pulling the fire poker back out the way it was inserted. The handle is too thick for him to force the tool all the way through him without risking broken ribs and punctured lungs, neither of which sound too appealing at the moment.
Out of options, he simply stands shakily against the wall, impaled and rapidly bleeding. Despite it all, he glares at Eden, baring his teeth to his sire in a furious snarl. The hatred he feels for Eden is unlike anything he’s ever felt before—he’s never had an emotion be so encompassing and passionate.
“You’re weak,” Eden tells Jongho, an edge of disdain to his voice. “Weaker than you should be, anyway. You’re a newborn, are you not?”
Jongho lets out a bitter laugh, thick blood oozing past his lips. “You don’t remember me?” he asks, his voice strained yet still venomous.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Eden replies simply, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he stares at Jongho. “I sense that you’re one of those obnoxious vampires who refuse to regularly consume human blood. Am I correct?”
Unwilling to humor Eden with an answer, Jongho just shifts in his spot and grimaces when the small movement causes an overwhelming amount of pain. He can feel his body slowly beginning to heal around the fire poker embedded inside of him, which he knows will make the inevitable removal impossibly more difficult.
Eden must know that he’s right about Jongho’s feeding habits, because he gladly continues despite the lack of a response. “You’re quite strong for a vampire, but incredibly weak for a newborn,” he says. “You’ll never be able to reach your full potential without a proper diet.”
Jongho tugs at the fire poker sticking out of his body, but the blood loss has made him shaky and weak, and he’s unable to get any proper leverage. His muscle and flesh stitching itself back together around the tool he’s been impaled with leaves him even more firmly stuck than he was before. With a frustrated groan, he stops his futile struggling to glower at Eden, who’s still standing arrogantly in front of him.
Hongjoong is cowering a few steps behind the chair he was previously sitting in, watching the entire scene unfold with fear and confusion evident in his eyes. Jongho suspects that the human’s weariness has much more to do with his previously discussed plan getting ruined than it has to do with concern for the violence occurring in front of him. He’s sure Seonghwa and the rest of his coven are equally as frustrated with Jongho’s actions.
“I can commend you for your determination,” Eden says slowly, his eyes scanning up and down Jongho’s body with something akin to fascination. “I must ask—how did a rogue vampire such as yourself enter this palace without an invitation?”
“I didn’t need your invitation,” Jongho spits through a mouthful of blood. “You’re my sire.”
Eden’s face lights up with amusement, and he lets out a few barks of surprised laughter, sounding more hysteric than genuine. “Oh, what a surprise!” he exclaims. “I never would’ve guessed.”
He looks over at Hongjoong, as if to make sure the human finds the situation as funny as he does, and motions towards Jongho’s vulnerable form. All Hongjoong replies with is dreadful silence, but Eden doesn’t seem to be bothered by it, instead stepping towards Jongho with a chuckle.
An alarmed noise leaves Jongho before he can stop it, and he tries his best to tighten his grip on the fire poker sticking out of him in case Eden is coming back to torture him some more. However, instead of his sire doing anything cruel, he simply reaches for Jongho’s mask and rips it off, revealing the younger vampire’s full face.
Eden studies Jongho’s features for a few long moments, squinting his eyes and angling his head in a few different directions as he tries to find any familiarity. Jongho is convinced Eden has completely forgotten about him, but then his sire’s mouth parts slightly with realization, and he lets out a sound of epiphany.
“Ah!” he says, “You were a hunter, right?” Without waiting for an answer, Eden lets out a humorless sound. “It’s hard to keep track of all of them. Don’t take it personally, my child. What was your name again?”
In lieu of an answer, Jongho sneers at his sire and spits a mouthful of blood-tainted saliva in the vampire’s direction. The red glob lands unceremoniously on top of one of Eden’s shiny dress shoes, dripping down the side and pooling on the ground. Eden looks down at it, then back up at Jongho, his expression blank and unreadable.
“Turning hunters is one of the most satisfying feelings,” Eden explains evenly. “You won’t ever know what that sensation is like, but maybe you can begin to understand. Defeating and humiliating a human who naively thinks that they stand a chance, then forcing them to become the very thing they despise the most in the world? It’s beautiful.”
“So that’s all a human life means to you?” Jongho questions resentfully. “A fleeting moment of justice?”
Eden smiles, “A human life means nothing more than sustenance,” he corrects, “and if you were smart, you would think the same. It’s part of our nature, my child. Predators hunt prey, and it can be sorrowful at times, but it’s very necessary.”
A sudden arrival through the door draws Eden’s attention away from Jongho. A guard, one of the vampire ones he momentarily subdued, stumbles inside with blood running down their face, leaking over their bland mask.
While Eden is looking over his shoulder at the newcomer, Jongho takes this opportunity to free himself. He braces himself with a quick deep breath, then kicks against the wall behind him to force the fire poker entirely through his body.
He tries to stay silent, but a strangled scream leaves him. He feels the handle of the fire poker slip past his insides, prying his ribs away from each other and causing them to crack from the unnatural bending. With a determined cry, he wrenches his body along the rest of the tool’s length, blood splattering across the pristine marble below with a gruesome wet sound.
Unfortunately, before he can right himself and attack Eden while he’s not paying attention, the guard manages to close the distance and reach his side almost instantly, pushing Jongho to the ground harshly.
Jongho, although bleary with pain and weaker after losing so much blood, still manages to writhe around enough to make the guard’s hold on him falter. Before he can push the vampire off of him, however, the bottom of a dress shoe slams into the side of his head, forcing his skull to bounce bluntly against the hard blood-stained floor, causing a dull sound to echo throughout the room.
He can do nothing more than feebly groan in agony, the effects of being impaled negatively affecting his ability to defend himself any longer. The bottom of the shoe pinning his head to the ground shifts from side to side, as if they were crushing a pesky insect. The sharp heel cuts into his jaw and lower ear while the sole presses into his cheekbone and temple.
“I’ve gifted you with life,” Eden says as he presses his shoe harder into Jongho’s head. “Your rebirth is all thanks to me, my child. You should be thanking me.”
“You’ve… been blinded,” Jongho grits out, his words muffled as his cheek is shoved into the floor. “You’ll never feel… true happiness. You have nobody you can trust…”
Eden hums lightly, “You say that as if it’s new information to me. I’ve survived this long, haven’t I? You should give me a bit more credit for knowing who my allies and enemies are.”
“You may have allies,” Jongho mumbles, “but you have… no family, no friends. You’ve been corrupted by greed… How cowardly.”
“You will never know true power,” Eden tells him. “You say I’ve been corrupted, but fail to realize that you’re in the same position as me. You’ve been blinded by your resentment and immature desire for vengeance.”
The foot gets lifted from his head, but Jongho can do nothing but lay there limply, the guard still pressing his body against the floor. He can feel blood running down his nose and out of his ears. Distantly, he can’t tell if the blood coating the inside of his mouth is from his broken nose, being impaled, or getting aggressively stepped on.
“Tell me, child,” Eden says, “where did all of that anger lead you?”
In his peripherals, Jongho barely sees Eden lift his foot into the air, preparing to stomp down on his head and crush his skull. Then, there’s nothing.
The darkness comes as a relief, like a rejuvenating breath of fresh air. Oddly enough, being dead to the world almost makes him feel alive again.