"Tell me, what are you doing in this castle?"
His voice was deep, cold, and commanding. The man stepped forward. Amelia instinctively took a step back. Fear, once a distant thought, now wrapped itself tightly around her chest.
The warnings, the whispers, the chilling rumors she had once dismissed as folklore came rushing back to her. Could they all be true?
"Wh-who are you?" she asked, her voice trembling, barely more than a whisper.
"That's my question," he replied, his gaze sharp and unwavering. "Who are you, and why have you entered my home?"
For centuries, not a single soul had dared to cross the threshold of this cursed castle. And yet, tonight, this woman had walked in—as if she didn't know the price of curiosity.
Did no one warn her? Did she come here on purpose?
Griffon narrowed his eyes. She was unfamiliar. He had never seen her before, and he knew every face in the nearby village. She must be an outsider. Perhaps no one had told her. Or perhaps… fate had led her here.
Amelia clutched her flashlight tightly, her fingers shaking. This was not what she had expected. She had only wanted to see if the legends were true. But now, standing before this strange and mesmerizing man, she realized how unprepared she truly was.
His eyes were piercing blue, unnaturally bright. His cheekbones sharp, his face carved like a statue from another era. He looked like an actor from a forgotten opera, rehearsing alone beneath the pale moonlight.
His attire, centuries out of date, was regal—ancient nobility woven into every thread.
Could he be the noble the stories had spoken of? Or was he merely a servant of the darkness that lingered here?
He was Griffon Xander—an immortal vampire who had dwelled in this castle for hundreds of years. A pure-blood aristocrat, the final heir of the once-powerful House of Xander.
Born of a Dracula father and a noble vampire mother from the 14th century, Griffon was the last of their line. But he had no desire to pass on the legacy. Even with a fiancée waiting somewhere in the shadows of his past, he had sworn never to bring another into his world of endless night.
He had lived a life of solitude, confined within these cold stone walls. The world outside had changed—grown cruel. He had seen how humans betrayed their kind, even though vampires once ruled the economy of New Orleans from the shadows. Now, some of them had begun killing humans, rebelling against the humans' greed and growing desire to dominate them.
"T-this is your home?" Amelia stuttered.
So the rumors were true. A noble did live here. But why did he look like that—like a ghost from a forgotten age?
Was he the master of this place, or just a servant bound by some ancient curse?
"Answer me, human," Griffon said, raising a hand.
A chill wind surged through the room. Amelia's body lifted into the air, her feet leaving the ground. She felt nothing—no pain, no fear. Only silence. Her mind clouded as if she were slipping into a dream.
She floated toward him, suspended between reality and enchantment.
"Why did you enter this castle? Who sent you?" he asked again. With a flick of his finger, her head tilted gently to the side.
Another gesture—her hair slid away from her neck, her collar loosened. Her slender throat was bared to him.
Griffon swallowed. The sight was maddenimercifu
"Me...?" Amelia whispered, but the words escaped her lips like a sigh. Her thoughts blurred. The man before her was devastatingly beautiful. She couldn't look away.
Her eyes closed as Griffon leaned closer. His sharp nails ghosted over her skin.
He swallowed again, his thirst clawing at him from within. Her neck looked so fragile. So tempting. A delicacy he hadn't tasted in centuries.
His fangs descended, gleaming beneath the moonlight. One hand gently cradled the back of her neck.
Amelia gave in. She didn't know what was happening. All she felt was the warmth of his breath and the chill of death drawing near.
His fangs grazed her skin. He was ready to sink them in, to taste her blood and surrender to the hunger that ruled him—
But he stopped.
Damn it.
Griffon recoiled, releasing her. Amelia collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
He couldn't do it. Not after all these years. He hadn't drunk human blood directly in centuries, and even now, he couldn't bring himself to cross that line again.
"What are you waiting for, Griffon?"
A woman's voice cut through the silence. From the wall behind him, a beautiful woman emerged. Her long black hair flowed behind her, her eyes fierce with nobility. Her ancient gown shimmered faintly in the candlelight.
"Why didn't you drink her blood?!" she demanded. It was his mother.
"I... I can't," Griffon whispered.
"Fool. You are a vampire. How dare you deny your nature?"
A second figure stepped out from the wall—his father. Regal, imposing, with a stare that burned like fire.
"I haven't done it in so long… I just… I can't anymore."
"We are vampires! You disgrace your bloodline by refusing to feed!"
"I'm not disgracing anyone. I'm choosing not to."
"Then give her to me!" his mother snapped. "If you won't do it, I will!"
She reached for Amelia. The girl's body rose again, like a doll pulled by invisible strings.
"No!"
Griffon pulled her into his arms, cradling her protectively. "No one will touch her!"
"Don't be a fool, Griffon! You know what they are. They'll betray you. Kill you. Give her to me—before it's too late!"
"I said no!" he roared. The room shook with his fury.
"She's not like the others. She's not from the village. She's just a traveler—someone who didn't know the rules. If we kill her, it'll raise suspicion. Humans have already found the bodies left by other vampires. If they get angry enough, they'll burn this place to the ground!"
His father's expression darkened. "Then get rid of her. And find the one responsible for the killings—before the name of Xander is stained forever."
With that, he vanished into the wall.
His mother lingered for a moment, staring at her son. Then, silently, she too disappeared.
Griffon looked down at Amelia. She was unconscious, unaware of how close she had come to death.
Gently, he brushed a strand of hair from her face.
This was the first time he had ever held a human so close.
He only hoped she would never return—because if she did, the others might not be so merciful.