The next day, John was lying on the bed in his room, feeling profoundly depressed. He kept replaying the scene in the alleyway over and over: the cold steel entering his neck and chest, the agony of the blade through his palm, and the paralyzing fear that had gripped him. Fresh in his memory, even more painful than the wounds, was the way his grandfather, Leonidas, had looked at him with such palpable disappointment and disgust.
Why did I think I could be some kind of hero? What is wrong with me?
John's complexion was deathly pale. He hadn't touched a drop of blood or a single piece of meat since the previous day, his body beginning to feel the hollow ache of starvation on top of his mental exhaustion. While he was lying there, lost in the crushing weight of his failure, he heard a sound at the door.
Knock knock
John did not say anything. He didn't even turn his head.
"John, it's me, Carmilla. I heard what happened. May I come in?"
John did not respond, trapped deep within his own head. Why did I go save that man from those bad men? What if I was a normal human? I wouldn't be alive. How did I become such an idiot?
Carmilla stood by the door, not realizing that John was so far gone in his thoughts that he barely heard her voice. "John, talk to me, please."
She waited for an answer for two full minutes, but only a heavy, stifling silence greeted her.
*Knock knock*
"I am coming in, John."
Carmilla slowly turned the doorknob and walked into the room. The first thing she noticed was how sickly he looked; his skin was a ghostly, translucent white. "John, are you okay?"
John did not respond to her calling. He remained motionless on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as if the answers to his failures were written in the stone above. Carmilla walked over to the edge of the bed and took a seat next to him, her presence soft and quiet.
"John," Carmilla called his name again.
This time, John finally heard her. He slowly turned his neck to look at her, his eyes dull. He stared at Carmilla for a few seconds before turning his head back to the ceiling. "Leave me alone, Carmilla."
"John, I am worried about you. Why don't you drink any blood? You look so pale." Carmilla hated to see him like this; she was used to him always having a smile on his face. "John, is there anything that I can do for you?"
John looked at her again, his voice flat. "Please. I want to be alone."
Carmilla said nothing more and only nodded her head. She gently touched his hand, offering a small, silent reassurance, before standing up and walking out of the room. When she closed the door, she found Anna standing in the hallway with a worried expression on her face.
"How is he?" Anna asked.
Carmilla simply shook her head, unable to offer any good news.
Anna took a deep breath and walked to the door. "John dear, it's Grandma. I am coming in."
She walked into the room and took the seat Carmilla had just vacated. "John dear, Grandma is worried about you. Please come to dinner. Let us eat as a family; maybe you will feel better."
John remained silent for a few seconds, the words of his grandfather still echoing in his mind. Finally, he asked the question that had been tormenting him. "Grandma, am I a failure?"
"You will never be a failure, John. Grandma loves you so much," Anna said firmly, her voice full of warmth. "Please get up and come to dinner."
John said nothing, searching his grandmother's eyes for the truth. Anna stood up and held out her hand toward him. "Come, John."
John was hesitant, his body feeling heavy and weak from lack of nourishment, but he reached out and took her hand, slowly pulling himself out of the bed.
When John and his grandmother arrived at the dining hall, many of the Crimson family members were already seated at the long table: Leonidas, Carmilla, Cassandra, Thomas, Richard, Reina, and several others. The remaining members of the clan were away on their own missions, leaving the hall feeling slightly quieter than usual, yet no less intense.
When John found his seat, he kept his head down, focused entirely on the table setting to avoid eye contact with anyone. Reina, who had been his temporary teacher, felt a pang of guilt seeing John so diminished. She knew the weight of the expectations placed on him, and seeing him like this made her choose to remain silent.
The vampire maids soon arrived, placing glasses of blood and plates of food before the guests. Anna, sitting right next to John, stood up and looked around the table with a warm, genuine smile.
"I am so glad to see you all here this evening. It warms my heart to be able to sit with my family and have a lovely dinner. I want you all to know that I love you, and please enjoy the food that is present on the table."
Leonidas looked up at her, his expression softening just a fraction. "You look exquisite tonight, honey."
Anna smiled sweetly at the rare compliment from her husband. "Thank you, my dear husband."
While the others began to eat and talk, John didn't touch his food or his blood. He sat with his head bowed, the weight of the previous day still heavy on his shoulders. Anna leaned in, her voice laced with concern. "John, darling, please drink your blood. Grandma doesn't like to see you this pale."
John lifted his head to look at his grandmother and gave a small, obedient nod. He lifted the glass to his lips and forced himself to take a single mouthful. He swallowed the thick liquid with difficulty, his stomach churning, before putting the glass back on the table with a trembling hand.
Leonidas then spoke, his voice carrying the absolute authority of the patriarch, slicing through the quiet conversation. "Thomas, I heard you beat the boy who challenged you to combat with little difficulty."
"You make the Crimson family proud, son," Leonidas continued, shifting his gaze. "And Richard, I heard you completed your mission successfully. Keep up the good work."
Both boys grinned, clearly happy to hear their grandfather's rare praise. "Thank you, Grandfather," they said together.
John looked toward the head of the table and saw Leonidas pat Thomas on the back. It was a simple, kind gesture, but it felt like a stab to John; he knew he would never get a look or a touch like that from the old man.
Unable to take another second of it, John stood up suddenly, his chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. "I am not hungry anymore. I am going to my room."
As John turned to leave, Anna reached out. "John, please..."
But Leonidas cut her off, his voice cold. "Let the boy go. He is a weakling."
"Leonidas, don't start now!" Anna snapped back, her voice full of anger.
John didn't say anything. He didn't defend himself or look back. He just kept walking, his footsteps echoing through the quiet dining hall. After he left, the rest of the family stayed quiet, eating their dinner in a room heavy with tension and the sting of Leonidas's words.
Later that evening, John lay on his bed in the dark. He felt empty and totally alone. The silence of the room was finally broken by a knock at the door.
*Knock knock*
John heard it this time, but he didn't want to talk. "Who is it? Please leave me alone."
A voice answered from the other side, calm and steady. "It is me, Young Master. Elena."