It had been a week since the last time I saw Eimi. Desmond sent some people to gather information about her; all we got back was that she was a brutal human killer. I'm not complaining; those people deserved it. I felt sad for the kids, but it turns out Eimi wasn't the one who killed them.
Does that make her a good or a bad person?
Yeah, no!
But, I mean, as long as she has nothing to do with Kiara, right?
What if she does? …What would I do?
How would I react…?
I won't be able to kill her; she doesn't have a heart…
I clicked my tongue.
Still, nothing is truly immortal.
There might be other methods to kill her…
I should research some of that. I will head to the library later today. There should be some of those ancient texts.
"Excuse me, sir… would you please spar with me?"
The voice cut through my thoughts like a blade.
Zach stood there, hopeful.
"Uh—sure!"
"Really! Thank you so much, sir! This is such an honour!" said Zach, bowing non-stop.
"Stop bowing, kid; let's head to the training room."
"Alright!" he said with a huge grin.
The training room was a basic old gym with black walls, weights, treadmills, and a boxing arena.
[I wonder why the walls are black; they trap so much heat inside them. No wonder it is always so hot in here.
Hold on, why does this kid want to spar with me? I don't think that we have had many encounters.
He did seem like a fan.
This is extremely troublesome.]
"Box or fangs?" I asked flatly.
"Box! I-I won't be as good as you with the, I have no chance against you; I might as well die on the first strike…" he stammered.
"So you think you're better at boxing than I?" I teased.
"N-no I don't—"
"Relax, kid. I'm just teasing you," I chuckled.
"Oh!" His eyes lit up.
"Yeah, go and get your gloves."
"Yes, sir! But before that, shouldn't we change?" he questioned.
"You can change if you want; I'm comfortable fighting in these," I replied.
"May I ask why, sir?"
"I prefer to fight in clothes with limited flexibility. An ambush doesn't allow you to change, does it?"
"T-that's so cool!! I won't change as well!" he said, his eyes sparkling.
"Calm down, go and get your gloves, and get in the ring," I said, pushing him slightly.
"Yes, sir!" he said, running off.
I sighed.
[This is going to be very exhausting.]
A while later, Zach finally climbed into the ring.
"Please don't go easy on me, sir."
"Alright, on the count of three."
"I'm ready!"
I shifted my weight forward, bouncing slightly. He raised his arms a little unevenly.
"Three… two… one—"
I threw a jab.
He leaned back. Not fast… just enough.
"Not bad," I said with a grin.
"Thank you, sir—"
My fist smashed into his cheek, sending him stumbling backwards into the ropes.
"Giving up?" I yelled.
"No, sir!" Zach got into position again. One foot was slightly ahead of the other. He bent his knees and raised his arms to shield his face.
[Was he nervous before? His stance is pretty good compared to before.]
He rushed in, trying to land two quick punches.
I blocked both without moving my feet.
He tried again.
Same result.
I wasn't trying to counter; just watching, letting him settle.
He kept pushing.
A little harder each time.
Then his rhythm broke just slightly. His weight shifted too far forward.
The punch he was about to throw was too wide.
Chin exposed; guard late.
I didn't swing hard.
Didn't need to.
Uppercut.
Straight through.
He went down before I even pulled my hand fully.
I exhaled slowly.
"…Too easy," I murmured.
…
Morning light streamed through the cracks in the tall windows. It spread softly across the cracked stone walls of the old castle. The place seemed long forgotten. Ivy choked its towers, and bricks crumbled under time's weight. But inside, it was pristine: cold elegance, quiet luxury.
Eimi lay curled under black silk sheets, her head on Damien's bare chest. She listened to the steady thump of his heart.
This is so boring, she thought, her eyes opening as she stared at the ceiling above their bed. It was old, vaulted, and just as dull as the last hundred mornings.
She sighed and traced patterns on Damien's chest with her fingers. Her thoughts drifted far away. It wasn't the silence; she liked silence. It was the stillness.
Let's have some fun, shall we? Eimi thought, a sly grin tugging at the corner of her lips.
She slipped out from under the sheets with ease. She didn't check if she had disturbed Damien; in fact, she hoped she had.
Padding across the cold marble floor, she disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of water echoed off the stone walls, filling the room.
A while later, Eimi emerged dressed in a sleek black dress, tailored to perfection.
"Let's see what kind of chaos the day has to offer," she murmured.
I kinda wanna go gambling, Eimi thought, her eyes gleaming with excitement. The risk excited her. The tension in the air and the scent of smoke mixed with perfume filled her with thrill.
She glanced back at Damien, still sprawled in bed, peaceful.
"Don't wait up," she said with a smirk. She walked to the castle's secret exit. It was hidden behind a bookshelf that creaked when she touched it.
Outside, the morning mist clung to the ruins, but Eimi moved through it like a shadow on a mission.
The city throbbed like a heart under the morning haze. Glass towers caught the light, while streets buzzed with early traffic.
She slipped through it effortlessly. The doorman at the underground entrance saw her right away. He stepped aside without saying a word.
Inside, it was dim, hazy with cigar smoke and the glint of gold chips. Laughter and shouting echoed off the marble walls.
She made her way to the high-stakes table, all smirks and swagger.
"Buy-in's five million," a man said, barely glancing up.
Eimi dropped a heavy black chip onto the felt.
"Make it ten."
The dealer gave a subtle nod, chips clattered across the table, and the game began. Eimi leaned back in her chair, fingers toying with a glass of something amber and expensive. Her eyes scanned her opponents. She noticed their chubby fingers, sweaty brows, and pulse points that seemed to be begging to break. Humans. All of them.
She played lazily at first, bluffing with ease, letting them think they had her cornered. Then she cleared the table twice.
"Damn," one of them muttered, wiping his forehead. "You're either lucky or cursed."
"Why not both?" Eimi purred, lifting her glass to her lips with a crooked smile.
Later, she lounged near the bar, surrounded by a few humans drawn in by her looks and effortless charm. They laughed at her jokes, leaning in too close. She let them. Fed off their attention. Not blood—he wasn't hungry—but something far more addictive. Power. Control. He kissed a girl's knuckles, whispered nonsense in a man's ear just to watch him flush.
But the mood soured quickly.
One man, drunk and high on arrogance, shoved through the crowd. "You think you're better than us, huh?" he growled, eyes red-rimmed. "Walking in here like you own the goddamn place."
Eimi arched a brow lazily. "Sweetheart, I do own this place. Metaphorically."
The man grabbed her hand and pulled her roughly towards the hallway behind the bar, away from the cameras. "Let's see how pretty you are when you're begging."
The man tightened his grip. Before Eimi could say another sarcastic word, he pressed his mouth against hers in a rough kiss.
Eimi didn't flinch; she let it happen.
She let her body go limp, swaying just enough to sell the illusion of helpless drunkenness. Her fingers brushed the wall behind her, silently testing for distance, for leverage. She could kill the bastard in less than two seconds.
But then—
"Let him go."
The kiss broke as the man froze, still gripping Eimi's dress.
Xavier stood at the end of the hall, eyes burning with fury. His hand never trembled as he pointed his gun straight at the man's head. His badge glinted beneath his coat, but it was the rage in his voice that stopped time.
"I said. let. her. go."
Eimi blinked; the corner of her mouth curled with slow amusement. This was unexpected.
The man didn't even get a chance to turn around.
Xavier charged in, landing a quick, powerful punch to the jaw. The guy fell back, hitting the wall and crumpling like trash. The hallway went quiet, except for Eimi's soft exhale.
Xavier's jaw was tight. "Are you all right?"
Eimi pushed away from the wall. She smoothed the wrinkles in her dress with great care. "Oh, I'm perfect now. You hit like a dream."
But then Xavier's eyes narrowed, the moment stretching as recognition slid into place.
That face. The sharp lines, the cold eyes, the smirk that didn't quite reach them.
Xavier's grip tightened as he yanked Eimi closer, slamming him back against the wall, eyes blazing. "You!" he hissed. "Where is she?! Where's Kiara?!"
Eimi only grinned wider, unfazed by the fury inches from her face. "Hello, Mr. Cute Vampire~," she purred, voice teasing. "Still charming as ever, I see. Has anyone ever told you how good you look when you're mad?"
Xavier's jaw clenched. "Don't play games with me."
"I love games. But it's not nice to pin a lady like that to the wall when you already have a lover," Eimi whispered, her eyes shining.
"You—" he started to speak, but was cut off.
"Entertain me, and I might tell you about Kiara."