As Airi's scream rang through the damp, blood-slick basement, Angel snapped back to awareness.
"W-What...?"
His voice trembled, choked in disbelief. His gaze dropped to his hands—slick, soaked in crimson. His fingers brushed his lips and came away wet. Metallic. Warm.
"No... No!"
He recoiled, crawling away from the mutilated body sprawled at his feet. Jin's lifeless eyes stared up at nothing. The tang of blood clung stubbornly to his tongue, taunting him with the truth of what he'd done.
Just then, the silhouette Airi had seen earlier—standing above them from the second floor, hidden behind shadows—stepped into the room. Its presence was sudden and unnerving. The figure grinned wide, baring a jagged, inhuman smile.
Airi's breath hitched. "N-No..."
In blind panic, he shoved Jiro forward. "Take him! Take him instead!"
"You fucking bi—"
Before Jiro could finish, the being lunged. Its movements were erratic and feral, a blur of muscle and teeth. With a wet, guttural snap, it tore into Jiro's back, sinking its fangs deep into his flesh.
Angel and Airi watched in frozen horror as Jiro crumpled to the ground, blood gushing from his torn spine like a severed hose.
The creature laughed—a gurgling, nightmarish sound as it savored its kill.
Then it turned.
Its eyes glowed faintly, inhuman and hungry, as it locked gazes with the last two survivors. Jiro's blood dripped from its fangs, painting a grotesque smile across its face.
Airi fell back, his legs finally giving out. His body shook uncontrollably.
The monster took a slow, deliberate step forward.
"Airi! Get back!" Angel shouted, panic lacing his voice.
Airi scrambled and crawled behind Angel, clutching at his shirt with trembling fingers.
"No... No, I told you to keep still," came a voice from the shadows of the hall. Calm. Cold. Measured.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor.
A lantern's glow illuminated the narrow path ahead as an old man entered the room, his cane tapping against the stone floor. He wore a tailored butler's coat from a bygone era, pressed and spotless. His eyes were a vivid ocean blue, too bright for a man his age.
"Stay back!" Angel warned. "That thing will kill you!"
The old man gave no reply. He stepped forward casually, as though walking through a garden instead of a blood-soaked nightmare.
The creature snarled—but then, inexplicably, it backed away. Its confidence faltered as the lantern's glow grew brighter.
"Come back here," the old man whispered.
He raised the lantern high.
And the impossible happened.
A strange force, invisible but palpable, dragged the creature back. It shrieked in rage, its form twisting and writhing as it shrank down into a speck of black mist—then vanished into the heart of the lantern.
Silence fell. Thick. Unreal.
The old man sighed and looked toward Angel.
"So... it's you," he said quietly. "I am Augustus. The Blood Butler. Pleased to meet you all."
Angel blinked. He turned to Airi—and found her frozen. Not just from fear, but as if her very soul had abandoned her body. She stared at Augustus as though he'd ripped open the fabric of her reality.
"My, my. An unwelcome guest, indeed," Augustus mused, smiling politely.
As his lips parted, two fangs—long and sharp—caught the light. Just like Angel's.
In the blink of an eye, Augustus was across the room.
Airi gasped as his hand wrapped around her throat, lifting her off the floor like a rag doll. His mouth opened wide.
Angel couldn't move. Couldn't scream. He stood, helpless, paralyzed, as Airi's terrified eyes met his. Then the feeding began.
"WHY?!" Angel screamed, voice cracking. "Why is this happening to me?!"
His fists clenched. His body shook. "I just wanted peace! I just wanted to live a normal life! But ever since we moved here, nothing—nothing—has been normal!"
Then—footsteps.
A tall man stepped into the basement, as if emerging from a dream. His beauty was surreal: long golden hair fell past his shoulders, and his eyes shone with a deep, unnatural crimson. His noble attire shimmered faintly in the low light. In one hand he held a polished black cane.
"Augustus," the man said calmly, "put the girl down."
"As you wish, my prince," Augustus replied, bowing slightly before placing Airi gently on the ground.
She was unconscious—but alive.
The man turned to Angel and extended a hand.
"Young man, do not be afraid. I mean you no harm."
"Lies..." Angel's voice broke. "You're all the same... monsters! Just kill me already!"
Tears streamed down his face. His heart pounded like a war drum.
The man only smiled.
"I understand," he said gently. "But I speak the truth."
He took Angel's arm and helped him to his feet.
"I apologize for the chaos my servant caused. It was... regrettable."
He bowed his head with an air of dignity that somehow didn't feel rehearsed.
Angel's thoughts were a storm. Should he be grateful? Furious? Guilty?
He looked down at Airi, her delicate skin pale and unmarred. And then—the craving returned.
A gnawing, insatiable hunger.
His breath quickened. His fangs ached.
Blood.
The scent was everywhere. He needed it.
His fingers twitched. His vision blurred.
He wanted to tear her open and feast—
Then darkness.
A hand covered his eyes.
And with each breath, the urge faded, receding like a tide pulling back from the shore.
"Augustus," the prince said without turning. "Take her upstairs. Let her rest in a clean room."
"Yes, Lord Prince."
Augustus picked Airi up and disappeared into the upper halls, leaving Angel and the stranger alone.
Angel wiped his mouth, trembling.
"What... what's happening to me?" he whispered.
The prince finally removed his hand.
He walked to the open coffin nearby, running a gloved hand across its lid.
"Do you know what you drank earlier? From the vial?"
Angel remembered the red liquid that had been forced into his mouth.
"That... that red stuff?"
"That 'red stuff' was my brother's blood," the prince replied, blowing away the dust from the coffin's lid with a single breath.
Angel's head swam.
"Blood...? But why... why would drinking it change me? None of this makes any sense!"
Malachi turned, crimson eyes glowing faintly.
"Have you ever heard of vampires, Angel? Or werewolves?"
"Vampires?"
His breath caught in his throat.
"You're saying that... I'm—"
Malachi nodded solemnly.
"This is the truth you must now accept, Angel."
The world tilted.
Everything he knew—his family, his humanity, his life before the mansion—shattered like glass underfoot.
And in the silence that followed, only one thing was clear:
There was no going back.