When I woke up, I found myself in a luxurious room. Silence filled the air. No one was there—only a neatly placed outfit resting on a chair.
A ball suit.
Maria's work.
I blinked, my heart skipping.
"Wait… does that mean it already started?"
Beside the outfit lay a folded note.
When you wake up, get ready. The ball has started.
"…Shit. I'm late."
I rushed to wash up, cold water snapping me fully awake. I styled my hair into a mullet, my hands moving faster than my thoughts, then dressed quickly. The suit fit perfectly, as if it had been made for me alone.
I bolted out of the room and headed straight for the ballroom.
The moment I entered—
Every gaze fell on me.
The music softened. Conversations stalled. Even the air felt heavier.
Lucien's jaw dropped.
Vaelthar froze mid-step.
One of them finally spoke, voice stunned.
"By the gods… you look noble."
He narrowed his eyes at me.
"You sure you're not royalty or something?"
Felix blinked, caught off guard by the intensity of their stares. He glanced down at himself—at the perfectly tailored suit, the way the deep indigo fabric hugged his frame like armor, the silver embroidery catching the light with each movement.
Maria strode forward, her crimson gown swirling like spilled wine. She circled Felix, inspecting every seam with a critical eye before nodding sharply.
"Good. You don't look like a peasant anymore."
Lucien clutched his chest dramatically.
"Felix… my student… when did you grow up?"
Felix rolled his eyes.
"Teacher, please. You're embarrassing us both."
Azhryon, leaning against a marble pillar, smirked.
"Careful, human. Looking like that in a room full of vampires? You might get eaten for entirely different reasons."
Felix paled.
"…That's not funny."
Lilith's voice cut through the murmurs, soft but clear.
"Felix."
He turned—and forgot how to breathe.
She stood at the top of the grand staircase, draped in a gown of midnight silk, her silver hair cascading over one shoulder like moonlight. The delicate circlet on her brow marked her as royalty, but the way her crimson eyes locked onto him made his pulse stutter.
Vaelthar groaned.
"Oh, spare me."
Maria elbowed him.
"Shut up and let them be cute."
Lilith descended the steps, the crowd parting for her as if pulled by invisible strings. When she reached Felix, she hesitated—then offered her hand, palm up.
"Will you dance with me?"
Felix's throat went dry.
"…I don't know vampire dances."
She smiled, sharp fangs glinting.
"Then I'll teach you."
The orchestra swelled into a waltz as Lilith pulled him onto the floor. His steps were clumsy at first, but she guided him effortlessly, her grip firm yet gentle. Around them, vampires watched with thinly veiled fascination—some amused, others calculating.
Vaelthar leaned toward Lucien, whispering loudly,
"Your student is literally dancing with death."
Lucien sighed.
"And yet, he's still doing better than I expected."
The Vampire Lord's voice thundered through the ballroom, silencing the music, the whispers, even the clink of crystal goblets.
"This human boy," he declared, one hand resting on Felix's shoulder, "saved my daughter's life."
A collective inhale swept through the crowd. Vampire nobles stiffened, their immortal faces betraying shock for the first time in centuries.
Felix stood frozen, painfully aware of hundreds of predatory eyes locked onto him.
The Lord continued, "He wielded light that scorched our enemies. He crossed into the Abyss and dragged her back. And tonight—" His crimson gaze swept the room, "—he stands here as my honored guest."
The silence that followed was thicker than blood.
Then—
A single pair of hands began to clap.
Slow. Deliberate.
All heads turned toward the source—Prince Vaelthar, leaning against a pillar with a smirk.
"Well," he drawled, "if Father says he's worthy, who are we to argue?"
Maria rolled her eyes but joined the applause. Then Azhryon. Then, like dominoes, the entire court erupted into reluctant, then roaring, approval.
Felix's ears burned. Lilith squeezed his hand, her voice barely audible over the noise.
"Told you they'd like you."
Behind them, Lucien wiped away an imaginary tear.
"My student… welcomed by vampires…" He sniffed. "I've taught him so well."
Vaelthar sidled up to him.
"You realize they're only clapping because Father ordered it, right?"
Lucien's proud smile didn't waver.
"Details."
—
But in the shadows of the ballroom's highest balcony, two figures lingered unseen.
The Vampire Lord's voice cut through the lingering applause like a blade.
"And now," he said, raising a hand for silence, "the second announcement."
A hush fell over the room again. Felix's fingers tensed against Lilith's—something in the Lord's tone made his instincts scream.
The Vampire Lord's gaze locked onto the crowd, unreadable.
"My daughter, Lilith Noctyrr…"
Lilith stiffened beside Felix, her nails digging into his palm.
"…is to be formally engaged to the son of Duke Valmarr."
Silence.
Then—chaos.
Gasps. Whispers. A few scattered cheers from political allies. Felix felt the ground tilt beneath him.
"What?" Lilith whispered, her eyes wide with shock.
Felix turned to her, his chest tightening.
"You… didn't know?"
She shook her head mutely.
Vaelthar's smirk vanished—he looked furious. Maria's lips curled into a snarl. Even Azhryon's usual calm demeanor cracked, his brows furrowing.
From the crowd, a young vampire noble stepped forward—tall, polished, with cold silver eyes and a smile that didn't reach them.
"Duke Valmarr's heir," the Lord announced, "Lord Kaelthar."
The noble bowed elegantly, his gaze flickering over Lilith with detached interest before settling on Felix—and gleaming with challenge.
Felix's blood turned to ice.
Lucien grabbed his shoulder before he could move.
"Don't," he hissed. "Not here."
But Lilith was already stepping forward, her voice trembling with barely contained rage.
"Father."
The room froze. No one interrupted the Vampire Lord. Ever.
He turned to her, expression unreadable.
"Yes, daughter?"
Her fists clenched.
"You arranged this. Without telling me."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
The Vampire Lord's gaze darkened.
"It is decided."
Lilith took a sharp breath—then whirled toward Kaelthar, her fangs bared.
"I refuse."
The collective gasp was deafening.
The Vampire Lord's hand snapped out, gripping Lilith's wrist.
"You will not."
She tried to pull away, but his grip was iron. His voice, when he spoke again, was dangerously soft.
"This arrangement is non-negotiable."
BOOM!!
The blast shattered the tension. The floor shuddered.
The Vampire Lord's expression twisted, something like fear flickering across his face.
"An explosion?"
Lucien's eyes flashed.
"The castle is fortified. No enemy can breach its defenses."
Vaelthar swore under his breath.
"Someone's here."
The air crackled with energy—then crunched, like a thousand branches snapping.
Vaelthar stumbled, his spell fizzling. Lucien's eyes widened.
"What the—an anti-magic field? That's impossible."
A deafening howl ripped through the castle halls.
The massive doors of the ballroom exploded inward—splintered wood and twisted metal crashing across the marble floor.
And there, framed by smoke and moonlight, stood a towering werewolf, golden eyes burning with murderous intent.
The crowd recoiled. Vampires hissed, fangs bared—but their magic was useless. The anti-magic field clung to the air like poison.
"Princess Lilith," the werewolf snarled, his voice thick with bloodlust.
"Your death has been overdue."
Felix's body moved before his mind caught up. He shoved Lilith behind him, his sword already drawn—but without magic, it was just steel.
Lucien cursed, grabbing a broken table leg.
"Felix! We need to—"
The werewolf lunged.
Chaos erupted. Vampires—helpless without magic—scrambled for cover. The Vampire Lord roared, claws unsheathing as he moved to intercept—but too slow.
The beast was faster.
Felix swung—
CRACK.