The concrete steps of the stairwell felt like they were made of lead.
Max walked slowly, his heavy boots echoing in the quiet, sterile silence of the apartment building. He had just left the manager's office on the ground floor after an incredibly tense, mind-bending conversation with Irmela. His mind was racing at a million miles an hour, desperately trying to process the massive, geopolitical supernatural bombshell she had just dropped on him.
He reached the landing of the third floor, but his legs refused to carry him any further. He stopped pacing, his hand resting heavily on the cool metal railing. He looked down the long, carpeted corridor toward Bellatrix's room—Room 35.
'Sigh…' Max let out a long, shuddering breath, rubbing his temples vigorously.
His mind was actively fighting him, trying to stop him from going to her door. He desperately wanted to tell Bellatrix the absolute truth about the shadows lurking in this world. He wanted to tell her about the vampires, the witches, and the terrifying supernatural beings that walked among normal humans.
But his rational, deeply cynical assassin's brain violently rejected the idea.
'I know exactly how she's going to react,' Max argued with himself in the quiet hallway. 'She is a literal genius. She is a woman of strict, peer-reviewed science. If I walk in there and tell her that monsters are real, she won't believe me for a single second. She's going to think I've completely lost my mind, or that the trauma of being a hitman has finally given me severe schizophrenia.'
He leaned his back against the wall, sliding down slightly as the sheer weight of the situation threatened to crush him. He wasn't in his usual, cold, calculating state of mind right now. He was off-balance, and it was entirely because of the horrific truth Irmela had revealed to him just minutes ago.
He closed his amber eyes, and the memory of Irmela's terrified face instantly rushed back to the forefront of his mind.
"The truth is, Max…" Irmela had said, her mismatched eyes wide with a deep, ancient fear. "…The Witch Organization is after me."
In the memory, Max had widened his amber eyes in pure, unadulterated shock. He had actually taken a step back, gripping the edge of her desk.
"Wh—what?!" Max had demanded, his voice cracking. "They actually have an active organization in this modern era?!"
Irmela had nodded her head grimly, wrapping her arms around herself as if trying to ward off a sudden chill.
"Yeah, I was quite surprised when I first found out, too. My mother never told me that a massive, structured organization of witches still existed today. She only ever told me childhood stories… stories that there used to be a grand Council of Witches that existed centuries ago."
Irmela had looked away, staring blankly at the wall as she recalled the ancient lore of her bloodline.
"But that Council was established decades, centuries ago. It was led and founded by the original, most terrifying witch in human history: Morgana Le Fay. But after her violent death by the hands of the wizard Merlin and King Arthur… that entire Council was completely destroyed. It fell apart the moment King Arthur struck the holy sword, Excalibur, directly through Morgana's dark heart."
"Yeah, I already know that specific piece of history," Max had replied smoothly, confirming the ancient myth.
Irmela had snapped her head back to look at him, her icy blue eye widening in pure surprise.
"You already know about the fall of Morgana?!" Irmela had asked, completely baffled. "Did you read that highly classified supernatural history from your father's hidden journal too?"
Max had shaken his head slowly side to side.
"No, I learned it from someone else entirely," Max had explained, his voice dropping into a low, nostalgic whisper. "I learned it from a friend of my murdered father. A pure-blooded vampire, and a high-ranking ruling member of the Elder Vampires."
"Really?!" Irmela had gasped, taking a step back. "You actually know other Elder Vampires?! The apex predators of the night?!"
"Yeah," Max had nodded, remembering the tall, pale man who had found him hiding in the alleys after his parents were slaughtered. "Though, that was a very long time ago, when I was just an angry, grieving teenager. He found me and took me in. He trained me brutally, teaching me how to fight, how to kill, and most importantly, how to control the faint, dormant vampiric powers flowing in my blood."
Max had sighed, remembering the grueling physical conditioning.
"He was also the one who bluntly told me that my supernatural powers were incredibly, pathetically weak since I am only a quarter-vampire, completely unlike my father who was a half-blood."
Irmela had tilted her head, her scientific curiosity momentarily overriding her fear.
"What exactly is the biological difference between a quarter-vampire and a half-vampire?" Irmela had asked. "I mean, I know pure-blooded vampires are ridiculously strong, yes. But the halves are widely considered to be far more dangerous because their human halves cannot mentally handle or control their primal hunger for human blood."
"What you just said is entirely true, yes," Max had confirmed. "But quarter-vampires like me are fundamentally different than the halves. We are not dangerous to civilians, and even though we can easily control our hunger and don't need to drink blood to survive, the massive trade-off is that we are simply too weak to even scratch a pure-blooded vampire in a fair fight. Even I, a quarter-vampire carrying the direct, royal bloodline of Dracula himself, am a living example of it. I can use enhanced physical strength, rapid healing, and night vision, but only to a very small extent. It has severe genetic limits."
"I see…." Irmela had murmured, absorbing the information.
"Anyway, getting back to the main, terrifying topic at hand," Max had redirected the conversation, his tone turning sharp. "You said this 'Witch Organization' exists right now, right? And also, why are you so incredibly frightened by them? Shouldn't you just naturally cooperate with them? Since you are a witch yourself, joining your own kind is the most logical choice you have to ensure your own survival, Irmela."
Irmela had let out a bitter, terrified laugh.
"Yes, you're perfectly right. That would absolutely be a logical choice, Max. But—"
"But what?" Max had questioned, sensing a massive twist approaching.
"They didn't reach out to me to recruit me," Irmela had said, her voice dropping into a shaky whisper. "They are actively hunting me down to kill me. And worse… the Witch Hunters… the ancient, fanatical human zealots who absolutely despise Witches and have slaughtered our kind for centuries… they are currently cooperating with them."
Max had widened his amber eyes to an impossible degree. His brain had practically short-circuited.
"What?!" Max had shouted, slamming his hand down on her desk. "Witch Hunters and Witches cooperating with each other?! Are you completely insane?! That's like mixing fucking water and fucking oil! How is that even making an ounce of logical sense?! Hell, I would rather believe that Vampires and Werewolves are cooperating with each other right now, or at least making a new, unholy Vampire-Werewolf hybrid! God, why the hell is this impossible shit happening right now?!"
"I know it's incredibly hard to believe, Max, but you have to trust me because those two ancient, mortal enemies are actively cooperating right now in the shadows," Irmela had pleaded, her hands trembling. "And as I heard from my informant, they are specifically hunting down us Witches who possess blue eyes because we are the biological key—"
She had paused, swallowing hard.
"The key to revive Lady Morgana Le Fay from the dead."
Max had raised a highly skeptical eyebrow, trying to piece the geopolitical puzzle together.
"What's the correlation here?" Max had asked, pacing back and forth in her small office. "Why would fanatical Witch Hunters actively want to revive Morgana Le Fay, the literal mother of all dark magic? And also, who is this informant who gave you this highly classified, impossible intel? Is this person also a witch in hiding?"
Irmela had shaken her head slowly side to side.
"No. It's Lauren's father."
Max had stopped pacing immediately. "Bell's father? And how the hell did he get access to this level of top-secret supernatural intel?"
"Sigh. Lauren's father is not an ordinary, wealthy human," Irmela had confessed, revealing a massive family secret. "He is also an elite Witch Hunter. A former, highly decorated one, to be more precise. And this man is also currently the richest man in all of Germany, and a direct, bloodline descendant of Otto Von Bismarck himself."
Max had let out a low whistle of sheer awe. "I see, I see… but how did a former, fanatical Witch Hunter end up marrying your sister—I mean, Bell's human mother? And how the hell did he find out that you were a witch in the first place?"
"Lauren's father already knew that my sister and I had a dormant witch bloodline running through our veins the moment he met us," Irmela had explained, a sad smile touching her lips. "But unlike me, who eventually chose to awaken my core and become the next witch of the family, my sister did not. And I rather didn't want her to awaken it anyway, since I didn't want to put her in this kind of eternal danger. Anyway, he is the one who secretly gave me this intel, and don't worry, he's a true friend. After all, he completely betrayed the Witch Hunter zealots who actively hunted us down and wanted to gouge our eyes out before. He chose to throw away his fanaticism and marry my sister because he truly believes that not all witches are evil. And the perfect, living example of that are us Witches who have blue eyes."
"I see. That actually makes sense in the grand lore of the underworld," Max had noted, nodding his head. "After all, legitimate Witch Hunters are strictly warned by their holy orders to never kill Witches who have blue eyes, since blue-eyed witches are historically peaceful. Rather, they are strictly ordered to hunt down the Half-Vampire Witches with crimson eyes, and the dark, remaining loyalist witches of Morgana's faction. So, those Witch Hunters who hunted you and Bell's mom down back in the day must be rogue factions or deserters from the main order."
"Yes. Exactly," Irmela had replied, her voice filled with relief that he understood the complex politics.
Then, Irmela had rushed forward, desperately grabbing both of Max's hands in a tight, pleading grip. Her mismatched eyes were filled with tears.
"That's why… please, Max. Please!" Irmela had begged him, her voice cracking with heavy emotion. "Please don't tell a single word about this to Lauren, alright? Promise me! Please…. if she knows that a massive, lethal Witch Organization and heavily armed Hunters are actively after me, I know her personality. She won't rest herself. She will drop her science, she will drop her safety, and she will try to do absolutely everything in her power to fight them and help me. So please! Please…. don't tell anything about my true nature or this war to her. I—I… she's the only remaining genuine family that I have left in this world."
Max snapped out of the terrifying flashback. He was standing in the quiet hallway of the third floor, staring blankly at the beige wallpaper.
He put his body back against the wall and violently slapped his own forehead with the palm of his hand.
"Argh! What the hell should I do right now?!" Max whispered furiously to himself, feeling entirely trapped between a rock and a hard place.
He was dating Bellatrix. He had promised her honesty. But he had also promised her Aunt that he would keep her safe by keeping her ignorant.
He closed his eyes, his tactical brain spinning rapidly. He then remembered a classic infiltration and interrogation technique.
'Yeah, that's right!' Max thought inwardly, a spark of inspiration hitting him.
He could just seamlessly mix the terrifying truth with a few grounded, believable lies. He knew for a fact that Bellatrix had the dormant potential to become a true witch, and he knew that her intense analytical mind—and her innate witch traits—allowed her to act as a human lie detector. She always knew when he was lying straight to her face.
So, he could just tell her that her Auntie Irmela truly was in grave danger, but completely omit the magical elements. He wouldn't mention the Witch Organization or the fanatical Hunters. He would tell her that highly armed, dangerous international Mafias or underworld cartels were trying to violently extort her aunt for the land. That was a mundane, believable threat that would trigger Bellatrix's lie detector as "true danger," but keep her away from the supernatural crossfire.
"Yeah, that could definitely work," Max said to himself, feeling a surge of confidence in his deceptive plan.
He reached up, wiped a bead of cold sweat from across his forehead, pushed himself off the wall, and continued to walk the remaining distance toward Bellatrix's room.
After he finally arrived at her door, he took a deep, steadying breath and reached out to ring the doorbell of her room.
—DING, DONG!
He only waited a few seconds before he heard a bright, energetic voice from inside.
"Coming!" Bellatrix called out happily.
He heard the heavy deadbolts click rapidly.
—CREAK!
After a minute, she pulled the heavy wooden door open. She was wearing her usual, incredibly casual homewear—a loose, slightly oversized graphic t-shirt and her light blue dolphin shorts that showed off her long, pale legs. Her blonde hair was tied up in a messy ponytail, and she offered him a bright, expectant smile.
"Ohh, Max! Here you are!" Bellatrix greeted him enthusiastically, stepping back to gesture him inside. "I can't wait for you to finally tell me why my Auntie seems to be in so much trouble lately. So, come right in!"
Max offered a tight nod, stepping past her into the living room. Bellatrix pushed the door wide open, checked the hallway, and then closed it firmly, locking it behind them. She practically skipped over to the couch and patted the cushion beside her, leading him to sit down.
"So, tell me!" Bellatrix demanded immediately, leaning forward with her hands clasped together. "Tell me exactly why my aunt seems to have such a big problem right now!"
Max looked deep into her bright gray eyes. Those beautiful, innocent, highly intelligent eyes.
A sudden, massive wave of guilt crashed over his heart. He didn't want to see those beautiful eyes crying in fear. He didn't want to see them reddening with grief and terror as he spun a web of lies about mafias, or as he told her the horrific truth about ancient magic. He knew that telling her the truth would make her realize just how massive and impossible their problems truly were. It would make her deeply paranoid, constantly looking over her shoulder. And worse, he knew her fiercely loyal personality; she would absolutely sacrifice her own life if she truly uncovered the whole, deadly truth.
Max closed his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath to gather his fragmented courage.
"Uhh, Max? Max?" Bellatrix called his name softly, sensing the sudden, heavy shift in the atmosphere. "Hello to Earth, Max?"
She reached out and gently held both of his large, calloused hands in her own soft ones.
Max exhaled heavily, feeling like he was solely shouldering the crushing problems of the entire world onto his broad shoulders.
"Bell, listen to me very carefully, because this—"
Max flipped his hands over, gripping her small hands tightly in his own.
"—This specific truth would put you in unimaginable, grave danger if you know it."
Bellatrix widened her eyes, sensing that something was fundamentally, terrifyingly wrong. The playful energy vanished from the room. She closed her gray eyes for a brief second, took a steadying breath, and then resolved herself. She wanted to know the truth. She needed to know the truth.
She knew deep down that this was pure stubbornness. She knew she was being slightly naive, prying into dark affairs that her own Aunt wanted to hide from her. But—
But she knew, with absolute, logical certainty, that if she chose to willingly blind herself, to be ignorant and live her life surrounded by comfortable lies, she would never forgive herself. She would deeply regret it for her entire life if she simply ignored her beloved Auntie's desperate problems when she could have done something to help.
She knew that choosing not to uncover the truth about her Auntie's problem would probably lead her to a safe, peaceful path, hiding in her laboratory. But she didn't want to live a coward's life. After all, she had already walked the painful path of hell when she was a bullied, isolated child. She wasn't afraid of the dark anymore.
She gripped his hands tightly in return, her gray eyes locking onto his amber ones with fierce, unyielding determination.
"Max, I assure you, telling me the truth will not put me in grave danger," Bellatrix reassured him, her voice steady and commanding. "Hell, if I consciously chose to ignore my Auntie's problems right now, and willingly chose to become ignorant of the threats around us, that would just put me in more grave danger because I wouldn't see the knife coming. So—"
She leaned an inch closer, her lie-detector intuition humming at maximum capacity.
"Tell me, Max. Who exactly called her on the phone at that time? And tell me the whole truth. Don't you dare try to mix up some lies or half-truths to protect my feelings."
Max blinked his eyes in sheer, stunned disbelief.
'Ho—how did she—?!' Max thought inwardly, his jaw slightly dropping. 'Did she literally just read my mind?! How did she already know I was actively planning to mix lies with the truth to protect her?! Her intuition is genuinely terrifying!'
He let out a long, defeated sigh. He couldn't lie to her. Not when she was looking at him like that.
"Sigh. I really can't defeat you, can I?" Max said, a small, highly complex smile touching his lips. It was a smile mixed with genuine affection, deep worry, and profound nervousness.
"Fine," Max capitulated, raising his hands in surrender. "But I have one strict condition. Don't you dare laugh at me when I tell you what I'm about to say."
Bellatrix nodded her head firmly, her expression dead serious. "I'll try my best."
"So, here's the thing—"
Max leaned back against the couch, his gaze drifting to the window as he prepared to shatter her entire worldview.
He spent the next unbroken hour sitting in her living room, carefully and methodically telling Bellatrix the whole, terrifying truth. He didn't hold anything back.
He started with his own dark origins. He told her about being a quarter-vampire, about his father being a half-vampire hitman, and his terrifying grandfather who formerly sat on the Elder Vampire Council. He then transitioned to her family. He told her that her eccentric, kind Auntie Irmela was actually a true, fully awakened witch who could live for five hundred years. He told her about her grandmother being a powerful witch as well.
He then explained the complex biological lore, detailing how he could easily identify a witch based purely on their specific eye colors, reading directly from the fragmented memories of his murdered father's hidden journal.
And lastly, he dropped the final, most personal bombshell. He told her that he had physically felt a distinct, dormant witch aura radiating deeply from her own body. He told her that she had the biological potential to become a terrifyingly powerful witch herself.
"So, that's all of it," Max finished, his voice slightly hoarse from the long explanation. "That is the massive, hidden world we live in, and that is exactly your Aunt's current problem with the Witch Organization and the Hunters."
Bellatrix sat completely frozen on the couch. Her gray eyes were wide open, staring blankly at the coffee table. She didn't move a single muscle for a long, agonizing moment as her hyper-analytical, strictly scientific brain tried to process the absolute impossibility of his words.
Then, the silence broke.
"Pfft—"
Bellatrix covered her mouth with her hand, her shoulders beginning to shake.
"Hahahahahaha!"
She threw her head back and burst into a loud, ringing fit of genuine, highly amused laughter.
"Hahaha! Oh my god, Max, please stop joking~!" Bellatrix giggled, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye. "That is literally the craziest, most elaborate prank story I have ever heard in my life!"
She slowly calmed down, her laughter dying out as she looked back at Max. She expected him to be smiling, to tell her he had finally gotten her back for the awkwardness in the hallway.
But Max wasn't smiling. He was staring at her with an incredibly serious, grim expression, his amber eyes completely devoid of any humor.
"Wait…" Bellatrix said, her smile slowly faltering. "…You're actually serious right now? You? A vampire? And my sweet Auntie Irmela? A centuries-old witch?!"
Max let out a heavy sigh and slowly nodded his head.
"Hahahaha… there's absolutely no way," Bellatrix tried to laugh again, but it sounded forced and hollow this time. She waved her hand dismissively. "Those things… witches and bloodsucking vampires… they only exist in those dumbass Hollywood movies and ancient, debunked folklore legends!"
She then leaned closer, searching his face for any micro-expression of deception.
"Wait, you're really, 100% serious?" she asked again, her voice finally dropping its amused tone, entirely replaced by a creeping, profound worry. Her lie-detector trait was screaming at her that he firmly believed every single word he just said.
"Yeah, I am," Max confirmed, his voice rock solid. "Vampires absolutely exist in the shadows of this modern world, and I am a living, breathing piece of genetic evidence of it. And your Aunt is also a living piece of evidence that she's a true witch."
Bellatrix went entirely silent. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. Her scientific mind was violently warring with the undeniable sincerity in his voice.
After a whole twenty minutes of tense, suffocating silence, her brain finally formulated a rational argument.
"So, let me get this straight," Bellatrix spoke up, her voice steady but laced with heavy skepticism. "You're telling me that I secretly have witch blood running through my veins, and I am potentially a dormant witch. While my Auntie is a true, spell-casting witch. And lastly, you are a quarter-vampire hitman."
She pointed a finger at him, demanding empirical proof.
"Stop pulling my leg, Max. If vampires and witches truly exist in this modern era, there should be a massive, undeniable mountain of peer-reviewed scientific evidence proving it, right? DNA anomalies, fossil records, government cover-ups!"
Max shook his head calmly, completely expecting her scientific pushback.
"Not all things in this world need a piece of paper with scientific evidence to exist, Bell," Max replied smoothly. "And the reason there is no public proof is because vampires, werewolves, and witches consciously and violently choose to hide their existence from normal humans, rather than revealing themselves and risking another global holy war. They control the shadows. They control the flow of information."
He then offered a small, reassuring smile to break the tension.
"And also, even though I am a vampire by blood, that doesn't mean I'm a soulless demon or a monster that burns in the sun. I don't drink blood, and I'm actually a practicing Orthodox Catholic, just like my parents were."
Bellatrix blinked, the image of a Catholic vampire being so absurd it actually helped ground her.
"True, true. That makes logical sense in a weird, twisted way," Bellatrix admitted, nodding her head slowly. She then looked at him, her gray eyes softening with genuine curiosity.
"But… why did you tell me the whole truth, Max? Even though I clearly still don't fully trust what you just said about magic, you knew I wouldn't believe it easily. But you still told me. Why, Max?"
Max stood up from his side of the couch, took a step, and sat down right next to her. He shifted his body to face her completely.
"Because I didn't want to lie to my girlfriend," Max stated simply, his voice filled with an unyielding, profound honesty. "Rather, I want to ensure that our relationship is built on a solid foundation of absolute honesty and deep trust for each other."
Max then reached out his hand, gently touching her short, messy blonde hair. He leaned forward slightly, burying his nose into the soft strands, and sniffed her hair deeply as he held it gently in his hands. It smelled like her vanilla shampoo and the sterile, clean scent of her laboratory.
Bellatrix widened her eyes as she heard him openly call her his "girlfriend" with such protective sincerity. A massive wave of warmth flooded her chest, completely overriding her scientific skepticism.
"I—I see," Bellatrix stammered, a brilliant, beautiful smile spreading across her flushed face. "Th—thanks, Max. Thanks, really."
She leaned her head into his touch, her voice dropping into a vulnerable whisper.
"You know, I was also incredibly nervous and deeply anxious about this relationship of ours," Bellatrix confessed. "Since we made the highly irrational choice to have intense sex first, rather than properly dating and getting to know each other fully. I was terrified you were just going to use me. But instead of you hating me, or regretting what we have done… you still chose to be with me. And even though I know I can be unbearable sometimes, and I'm a massive, awkward dork… you still chose me. And you even trusted me enough to tell me your deepest, darkest truth."
Bellatrix didn't hesitate anymore. She reached up, gently cupping his scarred cheek with her soft hand, and pulled his face down.
She pressed her lips firmly against his, delivering a deep, incredibly passionate kiss filled with all of her unspoken gratitude and overwhelming affection.
Max didn't resist. He completely melted into the contact, letting her take the lead as he continued slowly caressing her blonde hair, his thumb tracing the curve of her jawline.
After a long, breathless moment, they slowly pulled away. Bellatrix let her forehead rest gently against his broad chest, listening to the steady, powerful rhythm of his heartbeat.
"Thanks for telling me the truth, Max," Bellatrix whispered against his shirt. "Thanks, really. And I promise… from now on, I will listen to whatever you say, alright?"
Max smiled, resting his chin on top of her head.
"Of course, my little dork," Max teased her affectionately.
"Yo—you!" Bellatrix gasped in mock outrage. She pulled back and delivered a light, playful punch directly to his solid chest.
Max just threw his head back and laughed a rich, happy sound. He then looked down at her, his expression turning a bit more serious.
"Then, can you do me a massive favor, Bell?" Max asked gently.
"Sure. What is it?" Bellatrix replied, looking up at him trustingly.
"Don't pry into your Auntie's dangerous affairs anymore, and just focus entirely on your own happiness and your science tournament," Max requested, his tone protective and firm. "Don't worry about the magical threats. I will personally help her handle them, alright?"
Bellatrix was momentarily taken aback by what he said. She gripped her fists tightly in her lap, her protective instincts fighting against her promise to listen to him. She didn't want to leave her Aunt alone. But after a long moment of internal struggle, she let out a heavy sigh, trusting the legendary hitman to do his job.
"Fine," Bellatrix conceded reluctantly. "I won't pry into her problems or her supernatural affairs. But promise me something, Max. Promise me you will protect her. Protect her from that terrifying Witch Organization and from those fanatical Witch Hunters, alright?"
Max wrapped both of his strong arms around Bellatrix, pulling her into a tight, secure hug as he held her hair again.
"I promise, Bell," Max swore, his voice carrying the absolute, deadly vow of the Reaper. "I promise you that I will protect your Auntie, no matter what it takes."
She relaxed into his embrace, feeling entirely safe. She then looked up at him, a mischievous sparkle returning to her gray eyes.
"Then… when exactly will be our third, and final, official date?" Bellatrix asked him, eager to move forward. "And where will be the venue for it?"
Max smiled warmly, leaning down to press a soft kiss against her hair.
"Tomorrow," Max answered smoothly. "But the venue for it will be a complete secret."
Bellatrix let out a loud, frustrated groan, throwing her head back.
"Uggh! You're absolutely no fun, you know that?!" Bellatrix complained, pouting playfully.
Max just laughed again, holding her close.
As he held her tight, keeping her head tucked safely against his chest and sniffing the sweet scent of her hair, he closed his amber eyes. His mind wasn't on the date. It was on the war to come.
'I promise you, Bell,' Max inwardly swore to himself, his mind hardening into pure, tactical steel. 'You and your Aunt will not be put into any danger. I will tear apart the Witch Organization, the Hunters, and that green-eyed stalker if they even dare to look at you. I promise that with my life.'