A chilled air lingered beneath Sarah's skin, as she stood face-to-face with Lucien, a vampire in her apartment. The room smelled slightly of cinnamon and the rain scent coming from a partly open window. Outside, the steady drizzle played a gentle rhythm against the glass, a calm contrast to her restless thoughts. She had just agreed to keep Lucien's identity a secret— something that went against every instinct she had as a journalist. But of course, she had found a perfect opportunity to raise her voice.
"Okay, I won't publish your story, your secret is safe with me, but in one condition." she said, crossing her arms and leaning her hip against the chair, eyes locked on his with a fire that dared him to look away. "You don't ever f**king scare me or hurt me again. Got it?"
Lucien let out a soft chuckle; the sound was warm. A small smirk appeared on his face as he stood in the dim light, from a single floor lamp casting long shadows across the room. Catching the angles of his sharp cheekbones. The soft hum of the rain, the creaking floorboards beneath them, and the faint ticking of the antique clock mounted on the wall all blended together , wrapping the moment in a strange, quiet intimacy.
"Oh wow, blackmail? For your silence, That's what you're bringing to the table? How classy of youu!" he said at last, smirking as if he found her demand funny. His amber eyes sparkled with mischief, and Sarah's stomach tightened—not from fear, but from something more confusing.
With a nod "Fine a agree with your condition, looks like i don't have any other choice" Lucien said. She sighed, arms dropping to her sides as she looked away, frustration creeping in. Somewhere in her chest, she could feel the weight of her ambition slipping further from reach. The story of the mansion had been her shot at breaking free from the fluff assignments—celebrity interviews and pet fashion shows—that her editor loved to dump on her. But now, the centerpiece of that story—the enigma named Lucien—was untouchable.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Lucien, with all the grace of someone who'd done it a hundred times, reached for the camera she had left on the table. Sarah's breath caught in her throat. The device wasn't just a camera—it was the last shred of proof she had of that haunted night at the mansion.
"What the heek, are you doing with my camera?" she yelped, lunging toward him. Her fingers barely grazed his hand before he pulled the device out of reach. His grip was firm, unyielding. She was no match for him physically, and she knew it.
"Hey mistre, Get your hands off my precious camera! Now! " she demanded, her voice rising an octave, flushed with embarrassment and frustration.
Lucien's smirk deepened as he held the camera above his head, the light above them outlining his tall frame. He looked positively amused by her distress. "Oh? I guess I can't hear your rubbish," he teased. "Didn't you agree to keep my identity a secret? I'm just ensuring your memory card is... properly edited."
"You mean deleting everything !" she accused, her fists clenching. She tried again to reach for it, standing on tiptoe, but he shifted his arm, keeping it easily out of reach.
"Sit back, will you" he said softly, his tone polite but firm. His eyes locked on hers, and for a moment , something unreadable passed between them. "If you keep grabbing at it, it might break. And you wouldn't want that, would you?"
With a defeated huff, Sarah sat back onto the chair, arms crossed tightly across her chest. The frustration boiled beneath her skin, but it was laced with an undercurrent of curiosity —why is he such a brat?
After what felt like an eternity, he finally handed the camera back to her. "I left you something, especially for you,", he said casually like he hadn't just violated her most valuable piece of equipment.
Sarah grabbed the camera and immediately checked the footage. Her brows furrowed as she scrolled through the files until one particular clip caught her eye. A blurry video of Lucien seated at the grand piano inside the mansion , fingers gliding over the keys with haunting grace. The song played softly, and still, it got to her. Goosebumps rose, same as they did the first time.
"Huh! Looks like you forgot to delete this one," she said, raising an eyebrow.
Lucien's expression changed—barely—but she caught it. A small twitch pulled at the corner of his mouth, and for a second, he looked almost embarrassed. He turned away, suddenly focused on the books on her shelf, like they were oddly interesting.
"You can keep that," he mumbled. "It's too blurry to tell it's me. Consider it... a parting gift."
Sarah couldn't suppress a small smile, her earlier anger dissolving just a bit. "You're a big stupid," she said, shaking her head. "I honestly risked my life for this story, and now all I have to show for it is a ghostly piano recital. My editor is going to kill me."
Lucien chuckled and leaned back against the wall, his arms folded casually. "Isn't lying to everyone what all journalists do? Just tell him you almost died for the footage, he will surely give you a promotion"
Sarah gasped. "No, it's not!" she whispered indignantly. "Not me, anyway."
He gave her a look that said he didn't believe a word of it.
"Any more questions?" he asked with a slight tilt of his head.
"No," she muttered, sulking. "We're done for now."
She stood up, brushing off her skirt. The rain had stopped, and the city has entered quite lull of deep night. Soft streetlight slipped through the window, stretching warm lines across the floor.
"You can go home now. Thanks for your help," she said, though her voice lacked conviction. "Oh yeah! Thanks for your time"
Lucien arched a brow. "Hey, you devil , you promised me a treat."
As both of their stomachs rumbled with hunger, an awkward silence fell between them as they looked at each other.
Sarah already regretting her earlier offer. "Oh, don't remind me. Fine. Let's go before I change my mind."
They went down the narrow stairs, each step groaning underfoot. The lobby was empty , dimly lit by a flickering bulb. Outside, everything shimmered in silver. Rain-slick streets mirrored the lights in shattered pieces, and the air smelled like wet dirt and sky.
"Do you think any restaurants are open this late?" Lucien asked, tucking his hands into his coat pockets.
Sarah nodded , tucking a strand of damp hair behind her ear. "There's a restaurant nearby that's open 24/7. Runs by a granny she is sweet, I always eat there"
It was a short walk—ten minutes through the sleeping city. Most windows were dark, but a few still gave off a soft glow from people awake late into the night. A wet stray cat ran past them. Sarah glanced over at Lucien , Who walked in silence beside her, his tall frame casting a long shadow in the lamplight.
When they got to the restaurant, it was quiet and nearly empty. The lights were dim, and the air felt still. A bored-looking worker leaned on the counter, tapping their fingers and staring off, barely reacting as they walked in.
Sarah stepped up to the register and ordered fried chicken—greasy, comforting, and exactly what she needed. Her gaze flicked toward Lucien, expecting him to choose something strange or old-fashioned. Something like raw meat or a dish with a name she couldn't pronounce.
Instead, he calmly pointed to the garlic bread on the menu.
She blinked. "Are you seriously ordering that?" she whispered, leaning closer. "Aren't you… allergic or something?"
Lucien looked amused. "Why would I be?"
"Because... it's garlic?"
He shrugged, unfazed. The corner of his mouth lifted in a knowing smirk. "You'll see."
They placed their order and sat at a table by the window. The restaurant was old but welcoming, with worn floors and faded booths. The air smelled faintly of oil and spices. Sarah sat down slowly, her mind still spinning. He ordered garlic bread. literally— Garlic bread. I mean what kind of vampire does that?
She couldn't take her eyes off him. Her curiosity was bordering on obsession at this point, and she was dying to know if he'd actually eat it.
Just then, the sound of plates clinking pulled her back to the moment. She glanced up—and froze.
"Miss Naru?"
The woman smiled warmly as she approached their table , balancing a tray with practiced ease. Her silver hair was pulled into a loose bun, and she wore her signature red apron, embroidered with the restaurant's logo. Miss Naru, the owner—and a well-known presence in the neighbourhood—but Sarah hadn't expected to see her this late.
Sarah frowned. "What are you doing— working this late?"
Miss Naru gave a cheerful laugh, waving off the question with a wrinkled hand."Oh, dear, I've got a terrible habit of sleeping all day. Now I can't sleep at night, Figured I'd lend a hand in the kitchen."
"You should be resting."Sarah insisted gently.
"Nonsense," she said, setting down their plates. "And besides, I wanted to serve you myself. You're one of our favourite regulars."
"That's really sweet of you…" Sarah flushed.
Miss Naru's eyes twinkled. "And it looks like you're on a date, hmm? Such a handsome young man—my, you're a lucky one."
Sarah's entire face went red. "Wait—what? No, it's not like that—"
But Lucien just chuckled quietly, hiding his amusement behind his drink.
Miss Naru wasn't convinced. "I'll leave you lovebirds alone," she said with a wink. "And since it's your first date, it's fifty percent off."
Before Sarah could protest again, the woman was already gone. Back towards her kitchen.
Sarah groaned and buried her face in her hands. "This is not happening."
Lucien leaned back, a slow smile playing on his lips. "Well… at least the food smells good." The untouched garlic bread and fried chicken sitting between them. "You heard the lady," he said, his voice rich with amusement. "First date discount. I say we enjoy it.
Sarah inhaled deeply, trying to collect what was left of her composure. Her fingers tightened around the crumpled packet of cigarettes in her pocket , but a bright red NO SMOKING sign above the counter glared back at her like a judgmental aunt. With a small sigh, she shoved the packet deeper into her coat.
She glanced at Lucien, then at the garlic bread. A sly grin curved her lips.
"So what happened? Changed your mind? Or just stalling?" Her eyes sparkled with challenge. "You're not backing out now, are you?"
On the inside, though, she was practically bouncing. Is he actually going to eat garlic? A real vampire eating garlic? What on the world is happening?
Lucien didn't flinch. Calm as ever, he picked up a slice, inspected it with a thoughtful air—then took a bite.
"Mmm," he murmured, eyes closing briefly. "Okay. That's... really good. I get it why this is your favourite shop."
And just like that, he started devouring the garlic bread with the enthusiasm of a kid who hadn't eaten in days.
Sarah gawked, mouth slightly open. What in the Twilight-zone...
He was eating it. Garlic. Bread. Happily. No sparks. No spontaneous combustion. Not even a single dramatic wince.
"Well, damn," she muttered. "You really are full of surprises."
Right on cue, Lucien coughed—hard. He nearly choked, clutching his chest like he'd just inhaled a crumb the size of a fist.
Sarah bolted upright. "Oh my God—are you okay?" She grabbed his glass and thrust it at him like a lifeline.
He waved one hand, eyes watering as he choked out, "Went... down the wrong pipe."
She narrowed her eyes. "Dang, I thought you were gone for good." Her expression twisted into mild irritation.
Lucien, still coughing, managed a raspy laugh. "Aw, you sound disappointed. Should I give it another bite?"
She held up the ketchup packet like a loaded weapon. "Don't tempt me."
He raised both hands, surrendering. "Alright, alright. No need for violence."
By the time they finished eating, Sarah's head had stopped spinning. Sort of. She was still trying to process how a supposed vampire had polished off two slices of garlic bread like it was pizza night.
They stepped outside into the cool night air. The alley was draped in shadow, but the moon—full and tinged with a soft, ethereal blue—bathed the narrow street in its lonely glow. It covered the pavement like spilled silk , shining alone in the darkness, casting everything in a quiet, almost dreamlike hush. Leaves rustled gently in the breeze, the city finally taking a breath.
Sarah slowed her steps, tilting her head to the sky. "It's beautiful," she said softly, almost to herself.
Lucien looked over. "Did you say something?"
She hesitated, then smiled faintly, her eyes still on the moon. "I never realized it could look this beautiful."
He watched her for a moment, the streetlight catching in his eyes. "It's always been there , You just have to look up once in a while."
For once, she didn't have a snappy reply towards Lucien.
They walked on in easy silence, side by side under the glow of the moon. It wasn't loud or dramatic, but something had shifted—something gentle, quiet, comfort and maybe just a little magical.
And honestly? That was more than enough for now.
Above them, high in the clouds where the moonlight barely reached, a shadow moved—silent, still, watching.
A strange figure stood high above, cloaked in shadow. It looked almost human, but something was off—too still, too quiet.
High above, just beneath the clouds, it watched them with razor-focused eyes, unblinking. The wind stirred around it, yet its coat didn't flutter. It simply stood there—waiting. Watching.
"Found you," it murmured, voice low and cold, like a blade dragged over stone—before melting back into the shadows.