Darius set Ashel's head down gently, blood still streaking across his gloves and the crisp white fabric he'd ruined without a second thought. Above her, a soft chime echoed through the dim room as glowing numbers flickered into existence.
1:59… 1:58… 1:57…
He sat by the door, legs stretched out lazily, eyes fixed on the countdown like he'd done this a hundred times already. No panic. No rush. Just calm observation.
When the timer hit 5, the air shifted.
4… 3… 2… 1…
Light cracked through the floor beneath her like digital lightning. Her body lifted, weightless, pieces of her form breaking into glowing particles that spiraled upward before snapping together again in a soft burst of light.
A new body stood in front of him, dressed in a clean white system-generated dress, hair falling softly over her shoulders. Her eyes opened slowly.
She looked… different. Just for a second. Or maybe it was the light playing tricks.
Darius didn't move toward her. He just sat back, chin tilted slightly, watching.
"Welcome back, darling."
She smiled at him, gentle and familiar.
He didn't smile back.
"No running away, alright?" he murmured, pushing himself to his feet with that annoyingly smooth elegance.
She tilted her head. "Why would I run?"
The answer made something flicker in his expression. Not shock. Something quieter.
He stepped a little closer, studying her without making it obvious.
Something in her gaze felt… changed.
But nothing he could put a name to.
"I'm really hungry…" she mumbled softly.
Darius's lips curled, shadow slipping over his face in that way that made the air shift again.
"Then let me make you something."
He walked past her, calm, unbothered, hands in his pockets like nothing in the world could surprise him.
Behind him, she stood perfectly still for a moment.
Just watching.
In the kitchen, Ashel drifted behind Darius like a shadow that hadn't decided whether it belonged in the room. Darius moved with an easy certainty, rolling up his sleeves as he reached the counter. Every motion was calm, controlled, almost ceremonial.
Ashel tilted her head, studying him.
"So… what are you gonna cook?"
He lit the stove, the flame glowing warm beneath the pan.
"Just watch me. You're hungry, aren't you, darling?"
Ashel looked down. A faint dark aura curled from her hands, rising like thin smoke before fading into the air. Darius noticed, but he didn't startle or pause. He simply continued, as if this was normal.
She eyed the ingredients with quiet suspicion.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
Her tone was flat, tinged with something cold.
He let out a soft laugh.
"Darling, questioning my skills isn't smart."
She moved to the small table in the corner, folding her legs beneath her. The lantern above cast warm, wavering shadows across the kitchen floor, stretching toward her like reaching hands.
"First time seeing me cook?" he asked while chopping vegetables with smooth precision.
She nodded. "Mm."
Her eyes followed the motion of his hands, something almost wistful in her expression.
"You know… you remind me of someone," she murmured.
"Oh?" Darius kept stirring, though his shoulders stilled. "And who might that be?"
"A friend," she said softly. "He always smiled. Even when he was exhausted… even when everyone talked behind his back. He smiled like it could keep the world from breaking."
Darius's movements slowed.
"He loved cooking too," she added. "He'd make food for everyone. I never understood why."
She paused, voice dropping. "Later… I found out he was murdered by the people he trusted most."
The room fell into a heavy quiet.
Darius finished the dish and placed it before her with surprising gentleness.
"Here you go."
Ashel took a bite.
Her breath hitched.
Tears filled her eyes so fast they spilled before she registered the emotion. One slipped down her cheek, warm against her skin.
She wiped it, confused.
"Why… am I crying?"
Darius leaned back against the counter, arms folded, gaze unreadable.
"Well? How is it, darling?"
"…It's good," she whispered, voice shaking.
"Just good?" His smile grew, slow and sure. "You know it's better than that."
Ashel stared down at the dish, unable to look away. The warmth lingered on her tongue, but the strange, aching heaviness in her chest stayed longer… like a memory trying to claw its way to the surface.
The door burst open.
A man stumbled inside, chest heaving, his cloak soaked with rain and shadow. He didn't hesitate. The moment he saw Ashel sitting there, still and quiet, he sprinted toward her.
Ashel didn't flinch. She just sat, watching him approach like she was watching a passing cloud.
Darius's brows tightened. He stepped in front of her, his kick snapping out fast and sharp.
The man dodged it effortlessly.
"I'm going to kill you—kill you, you monster!" the man roared, voice breaking with fury. He charged again, fists flying in wild, desperate swings.
"Stop screaming," Darius muttered, annoyance dripping from every word. "You're ruining my time with my darling."
Ashel stayed silent, her eyes steady.
The man didn't stop. He threw punches at Darius's face, each one sharper than the last. Then he grabbed a kitchen knife off the counter and slashed down. The blade caught Darius's cloak, slicing it open and drawing a thin line of blood.
Darius stepped back, eyes darkening.
"So you want to play rough," he said quietly. "Fine. Let me show you my style."
He was on the man in a heartbeat.
He grabbed the attacker's wrist mid-swing, twisting until the man hissed in pain.
"Using kitchen tools against me?" Darius snapped. "That's embarrassing."
The man fought back with stubborn rage, trying to wrench free.
"I don't care! I won't let you touch her!"
"Oh, please." Darius shoved him hard into the counter. The knife clattered to the floor. "You can't even touch me."
The man's hood slipped lower with the impact, revealing a familiar jawline. Darius paused, irritation sharpening.
"…Don't tell me."
The man lunged again, tackling Darius to the floor. The hood finally fell away completely.
Ashel's eyes widened.
Edward.
His hair was disheveled, his eyes glassy with anger, his fangs showing just enough to betray how shaken he was. Sweat and rain dripped down his face, mixing with blood from a shallow cut.
"You think I'd let you near her?" Edward spat. "You think I'd let you breathe the same air as her?!"
Darius blinked at him, unimpressed even with a full-grown vampire straddling his chest.
"You dramatic little disaster."
Edward tried to punch him again. Darius dodged, kicked upward, and sent Edward crashing into the table. Dishes shattered around him.
Edward staggered, grabbed a second hidden blade from inside his cloak, and slashed upward.
The tip nicked Darius's cheek.
Blood ran in a thin line.
Darius froze, eyes narrowing.
"You're getting bold," he said softly. "Let's fix that."
He hauled Edward up by the collar and slammed him into the wall, pinning him with a forearm to the throat.
"Now," Darius whispered, leaning in, "tell me why you walked in here thinking you could win."
Edward's hands shook, but he glared with pure, unfiltered hatred.
"I'll never let you have her. Not while I'm alive."
Darius let out a humorless laugh.
"That can be arranged."
Edward pushed himself off the floor again, breaths shallow, sweat beading down his temples. His movements had lost their usual precision; his legs swayed under him like they couldn't remember how to hold him up.
Darius noticed.
"You're burning up," he said calmly, stepping toward him. "You came here in this condition? Pathetic."
Edward tried to lift his arm, to swing again, but his vision blurred. Heat radiated off him in waves, his fever tearing through what little strength he had left.
"Ashel…" he whispered hoarsely, reaching a trembling hand toward her.
He didn't make it.
His knees buckled.
Darius caught him by the collar before he hit the ground, holding him up like a broken puppet.
"So this wasn't just stupidity," Darius murmured. "You're sick."
Edward's eyes rolled back, breath hitching. His body went limp in Darius's grasp.
He fainted.
Darius clicked his tongue, annoyed.
"Interrupting my evening and then collapsing? You really are exhausting."