Eline walked back to his room slower than usual.
The hallway felt longer tonight.
Quieter.
He closed the door behind him and leaned against it for a moment, eyes unfocused.
Something inside him had… dimmed again.
Just a little.
He had only just started to feel that spark again—that small, dangerous hope that maybe, somehow, he could get out.
And then Darian came.
Not shouting.
Not threatening.
Just… talking.
Calmly.
Logically.
And somehow, that made it worse.
Eline let out a quiet breath and dragged his hand through his hair.
"It wasn't even that harsh…" he muttered to himself.
But it stayed.
The way Darian spoke.
The way he reduced everything—his life, his body, his future—into something so… manageable.
So exchangeable.
Eline walked further into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed.
For a moment, he just stared at the floor.
And then—
A memory surfaced.
Dim lights.
Cheap music.
A glass in his hand.
Another.
And another.
He used to do that.
Whenever things got too much… he would just drink until his head went quiet.
Until nothing mattered.
Until he didn't feel like himself anymore.
A small, tired smile appeared on his lips.
"My life wasn't even that bad," he murmured.
It really wasn't.
A small apartment.
A normal job.
Enough money to live without thinking too much.
It wasn't perfect.
But it was his.
And now-
He looked around the room.
Too big.
Too quiet.
Too controlled.
"…I just want to not think for a while."
He stood up.
The maid looked at him, a little confused.
"You want… alcohol?" she repeated.
Eline nodded.
"Yeah. Just a little."
She hesitated.
"I'm not sure if"
"Didn't he say I could do whatever I want?" Eline cut in, trying to sound casual. "As long as I'm not running away."
The maid still looked unsure.
Eline tilted his head slightly, softer this time.
"He's not coming tonight anyway, right?"
Silence.
She thought for a moment.
Then gave a small nod.
"I'll… ask."
Eline exhaled quietly as she left.
When she came back, she had a bottle in her hands.
She placed it carefully on the table.
Eline's eyes immediately went to it.
"Thank you," he said.
Then, after a small pause, he added lightly—
"You don't have to tell anyone about this, you know."
The maid froze for a second.
Eline smiled faintly, almost joking—but not entirely.
"It's not a big deal," he continued. "And we both don't need trouble for something this small."
She didn't respond.
Just gave a slight nod and left the room.
The door closed.
Again—silence.
Eline sat by the window.
The bottle in front of him.
For a moment, he just looked at it.
Then he poured.
One glass.
Drank.
The burn hit instantly.
Sharp.
Familiar.
He let out a small breath.
"Yeah… that's better."
Another glass.
Then another.
It didn't take much.
It never did.
That was one thing he was always grateful for—he got drunk easily.
Saved money.
He let out a soft, uneven laugh at the thought.
By the third glass, the edges of everything started to blur.
His shoulders relaxed.
His thoughts slowed.
And then—
They started slipping out.
"…crazy place," he mumbled, staring at nothing in particular. "vampires… babies… what even…"
He laughed again, quieter this time.
"I should've just stayed home…"
His words started blending together.
Half-thoughts,Half-sentences.
Just… noise.
The bottle was already half empty.
Outside the room—
Carlson stood in the hallway.
He hadn't planned to come.
There was no need.
Everything that needed to be done… had already been done.
And yet—
He was here.
His gaze rested on the door.
Something about it felt… unfinished.
And yet, he hadn't walked away.
"…Strange."
It wasn't like him.
Not at all.
He didn't linger,He didn't return.
He certainly didn't hesitate.
And yet—
He lifted his hand,
Knocked once.
Then opened the door.
The first thing he saw
Eline.
Sitting by the window.
Half-leaning against the wall.
A glass loosely held in his hand.
The bottle beside him—half empty.
And his voice—
Soft. Slurred. Unfiltered.
"…not even that bad… just weird…"
Carlson stopped at the doorway.
Watching.
For a moment, he didn't say anything.
Just observed.
The boy looked… different like this.
Less guarded.
Carlson's gaze shifted briefly to the bottle.
Then back to Eline.
"…So this is how you cope," he said quietly.
Eline didn't react immediately.
Still mumbling to himself.
Unaware.
Carlson stepped inside.
Closed the door behind him.
And for some reason—
He didn't feel the need to leave.