"…In that moment, I felt a terror that pierced straight to the marrow of my bones. When faced with death, with the extreme darkness of the unknown, the primal animal instinct within me finally overwhelmed the curiosity I had once been so proud of. I wanted to open my mouth and scream, to flail my arms, to shove him off me and then run shrieking out of that dark castle, never to look back… but everything was already too late."
"I don't know how much time passed. By then I was completely drained, unable to move, my vision blurred, lying on the verge of death as I stared up at him. He was still pressing down on me; the dim, opulent chandelier overhead cast its light on him, making him look like a demon risen straight from hell. He smiled triumphantly, leaned close to my ear, and whispered, 'It won't be long now. You'll die right here. Then I'll toss your corpse somewhere no one will find it… or maybe throw you back onto that familiar street from years ago, so everyone can get a good look at how pathetic you are — see for themselves whether you're really afraid of death or not.' He laughed coldly and cruelly, but by then I could hardly hear him anymore. My mind was a swirling fog, my heart pounding frantically and heavily, pumping what little blood remained in my body. I felt as though I were floating somewhere, dazed and directionless, with no place left that could contain me.
I truly regretted it — I don't know how many times I had regretted it by then. I was still terrified of death. No matter whether he caused it or I brought it upon myself, I still couldn't accept this primal, biological fear. I had thought I'd figured it out, that I could calmly accept death — but I couldn't. I was afraid. I was cowardly. I couldn't bear the thought of lying there motionless like old John and my mother, completely lifeless.
'But now… you still have a chance to live.' He spoke lightly, looking down at me from above with an air of condescension, his ear close to my mouth as though waiting for me to say something.
I understood what he wanted. 'I'm willing,' I rasped with every ounce of strength I had left, right into his ear.
'What?'
'I'm willing.'
He laughed — a smile that bloomed across his face, yet carried an unusual coldness and smug satisfaction. And then everything that followed seemed to happen in slow motion. In the dim light, he raised his arm and tore open his own wrist with his teeth. A distinct, metallic scent of blood spread through the air. Crimson blood slowly flowed from the wound, like a stream of glowing liquid in the dark night, dripping onto the floor and giving off an eerie sheen. With his back to the faint light, I couldn't see his face clearly; I could only feel the movement. He brought his wrist to my lips.
'Drink it.' His voice was both a command and something strangely close to a plea. Slowly, I bit down on his wrist and began to suck his blood.
And then… everything changed.
The instant my lips touched his blood, the world seemed to be cut off. Time itself appeared to freeze. All sound vanished. Light sources lost their power. In the room, only the faint crimson glow between the two of us remained. My perception grew hazy, as though I had fallen into some transcendent state.
With every swallow of blood, my consciousness, which had started out blurred, became clearer and clearer — as if a door to an unknown world had been thrown open. I felt his emotions, his memories, his entire life experience unfolding vividly inside me. Everything that was me began to merge and flow together with everything that was him, blending into a wild celebration of blood. In that moment, we seemed to become one single being; the boundaries between us dissolved. Our connection transcended the material world and the limits of flesh in an instant: I was no longer a solitary existence, but a part of him — we existed together, inseparably intertwined.
Gradually, I stopped feeling the weakness of my body. In its place came an immense surge of power. It rushed through me, circulated, rampaged wildly inside my veins, awakening a fierce craving for the taste of blood. The scent of blood, which once made me sick, now felt like the sweetest nectar. I couldn't help myself — I wanted more, just a little more, and then a little more still—"