Jeremiah opened his eyes to a familiar ceiling. He was back in his room at the villa, but the lingering ache in his bones reminded him that yesterday had been a nightmare. It was a sobering realization: if he kept pushing at this rate, he would eventually be caught or killed. Each battle chipped away at the fragile humanity he had meticulously constructed within his own self-consciousness, leaving something colder and hungrier in its place.
For a while, he didn't move. His body remained stretched across the king-sized bed, the soft fabric beneath him was comforting then he closed his eyes to look inward.
In the quiet of his subconscious, he saw it—his mana core. It was burning a vibrant, turbulent yellowish-green, pulsing as if it were on the verge of shattering. Jeremiah was stunned. What the hell? I'm one step away.
To break through when at the precipice, a mage required a massive influx of mana and total concentration to force the core past its limits. Jeremiah instinctively knew why he had bypassed the later yellow stages so rapidly. As a vampire, he could grow stronger by draining powerful opponents, consuming the blood and the very essence of their being—be they mages, Demi-humans, or void creatures.
He had always avoided such primal growth, fearing it would leave a trail or cause him to lose the hard-won control he valued above all else. But these last two battles had forced his hand; he'd had to give everything. Looking at the core now, he knew the final push wouldn't come from meditation. I need a Void creature's core—Dreadspawn rank or higher. I'll have to ask Selene for a favor or scour the Alliance hub.
As he mused on his next move, his communicator vibrated on the bedside table. He sat up, reaching for the device. The caller ID read "Grandmother."
Jeremiah's eye twitched, a small, involuntary chuckle escaping his lips. He answered with a weary fondness. "Hello, Grandmother."
There was a short pause, followed by a beautiful, melodic laugh that seemed to brighten the dim room. Selene's voice came through, clear and spirited. "Hey, Jeremiah! I'm back in BayPort. Let's meet up at my usual coffee shop."
Jeremiah's mind flashed to the only shop she ever took him to—a place he'd visited so many times he could navigate it blindfolded. "Jerry's Bread and Breakfast?"
"That's the one! I have a meeting first so I'll see you in four hours. Don't you dare be late."
"I'll be there," he promised, and the call went dead.
He set the communicator back down and turned his gaze toward the closet. He had four hours to kill. The drive would take twenty minutes—less if used mana to skip the traffic, but he shook his head at the thought. No, that's stupid. Let's keep it normal for once.
He slid out of bed, his feet hitting the cold floor, and began the ritual of getting dressed.
Jeremiah emerged from his room and scanned the spacious interior of the villa. It was unusually quiet, the morning light spilling across the floors in long, silent streaks. As he descended the stairs, his eyes landed on Nyx.
She was standing near the foyer, dressed in a black shirt tucked neatly into denim shorts. With her earrings and necklace catching the light, she looked undeniably beautiful, and Jeremiah found himself pausing for a heartbeat just to appreciate the view.
She was finishing a conversation with Jerome. "Yes, Miss Althea," the butler said with a slight bow. "I'll have a car ready for you in five minutes."
Nyx offered a small smile and thanked him before turning to see Jeremiah on the stairs. He gave a casual wave. "Seems like you're heading out. Anywhere good?"
"Nowhere in particular," she said, her expression pleasant but guarded. "I just wanted to get out of the villa for a while."
"Where is everyone else?" Jeremiah asked, reaching the bottom floor.
"Mariah and Tessa went to HQ to see if they can secure a few Void cores. They're also looking for some specific materials I need—I have a few ideas for some upgrades."
Jeremiah grinned at that. "Well, I have somewhere to be in a couple of hours, but until then... mind if I tag along?"
As soon as the question hung in the air, Jeremiah felt a flicker of unease. He looked at her closely, and the intuition he'd developed over weeks of training with her kicked in. Nyx was the first person he had truly connected with in this life, and he was starting to recognize the subtle tells of her body language. She was stiff. That smile wasn't the warm, genuine one he was used to; she looked conflicted, almost uncomfortable.
Jeremiah hesitated, his earlier confidence fading slightly as doubt replaced it.
"Actually," he started, shifting his tone, "if you'd rather—"
Nyx seemed to realize he was reading her. Before he could finish, she stepped forward and gripped his arm firmly. "No, it's fine. I'd really love to hang out."
Jeremiah was genuinely confused. So… it's not about me? Before he could think further—
Jerome returned, opening the main door cutting through the moment. "The car is right outside. The driver is at your disposal. Please enjoy yourselves.
They both nodded their thanks. Nyx let go of his arm and started toward the car with a brisk pace, leaving Jeremiah to follow behind, his mind racing to figure out what was weighing on her.
The ride to the shopping district passed more quickly than Jeremiah expected. The car glided smoothly through BayPort's upper roads, the engine's low hum blending into a comfortable, shared silence. It wasn't awkward; it was easy. Jeremiah sat back, his arm resting near the window as the city blurred past. Beside him, Nyx remained composed, her gaze drifting occasionally toward the skyline, her posture relaxed.
BayPort City was known for its scale, but the Upper Echelons District was a world of its own. Here, wealth didn't just exist; it concentrated into a physical weight of influence and status. Everything was intentional—curated to reflect power rather than mere convenience.
Nothing embodied that philosophy more than the structure looming ahead.
As the car slowed toward the entrance, Jeremiah leaned forward, his eyes lifting as the full scale of the building came into view. He just stared. Calling it a mall felt like an insult; it was a self-contained city.
Massive, sweeping curves of glass and steel spiraled around one another, creating a labyrinth of layered walkways, terraces, and open-air plazas. Greenery was woven into the very bones of the architecture—rooftop gardens and ancient-looking trees embedded into the terraces, with pathways cutting through the structure like living veins. Above, people moved across multiple levels at once, visible through transparent spans as they crossed elevated sky-bridges.
The lettering across the main arch was grand saying: BayPort Mall.
Jeremiah exhaled softly, still trying to process the sheer audacity of the design.
"…Yeah," he muttered under his breath, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "I definitely don't belong here."
It wasn't a lack of confidence; it was just a fact. His pockets weren't exactly empty, but they lacked the depth required for this neighborhood. Combined with his notoriously terrible credit management, he knew better than to even look at a price tag. At best, he might be able to swing a high-end cup of coffee.
Maybe.
Still, the grin on his face widened. That didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the view.
The car came to a smooth halt, and the driver stepped out to hold the door for nyx. As Jeremiah stepped onto the pavement, the true scale of the place hit him like a physical wave. The district's symphony washed over him—the sound of music, distant conversations, and the constant, subtle hum of a place that never truly slept.
Jeremiah turned toward Nyx as she walked up beside him, his gaze still drifting over the massive structure in front of them, trying to take in every detail at once.
"When you said BayPort Mall… gods," he said, letting out a quiet breath as his eyes traced the sweeping curves of glass above them, "I wasn't expecting all this."
Nyx smiled, a soft chuckle escaping her as she followed his gaze for a moment before looking back at him. "I came here once before with the girls, but as you can imagine, I didn't get to see half the stores I actually wanted to."
After waving off their driver, they started toward the main archway. Jeremiah offered a mock-valiant bow. "Well, Saintess, I am here to accompany you. Lead the way to everything you missed."
She surprised him by slipping her arm through his, her smile radiant as she leaned into his side. Jeremiah stiffened for a heartbeat, his pulse jumping, but he looked at the hundreds of people milling about- families, couples, groups of friends—all flowing in different directions.
…Maybe she just doesn't want us to get separated.
The mall opened up into a massive, multi-layered space where floors curved around one another in elegant arcs. Escalators crisscrossed between levels, some wrapped in greenery that climbed along their sides, blending nature into the architecture in a way that felt intentional rather than decorative.
Stores lined every level—high-end brands, boutiques, specialty shops—all designed with sleek, polished fronts that reflected light from above. Glass railings overlooked lower levels where open plazas and seating areas were filled with people moving through their day.
Everything—From the lighting to the layout—Screamed luxury.
Nyx, already accustomed to the opulence, didn't slow down. She happily dragged Jeremiah along. They moved from store to store, the flow of people constantly shifting around them as Nyx navigated through the crowds with surprising ease. Jeremiah barely had time to process one place before they were already entering another.
More than once, he caught glances—subtle at first, then more obvious. Strangers looking their way, some whispering, others doing double takes as they passed.
To anyone watching—They looked like a couple, Though not just any couple.
Like two models on a date.
Jeremiah tried not to think about that too much.
But Jeremiah was quickly realizing the reality of his role: he was the designated bag holder. He looked down at them briefly, then back at Nyx, then back at the bags again. When did this even happen…?
A thought followed quickly after.
When did she accumulate so many credits? And why am I the only one broke? Jeremiah wondered, feeling the metaphorical lightness of his pockets every time a clerk swiped Nyx's card. He caught a glimpse of a price tag on a simple jacket and nearly choked. What is this bullshit? Is it woven with mana silk and unicorn hair?
As they passed a sleek, glass-fronted café and ice cream parlor, Nyx pointed toward a table. "How about a break? My stomach is starting to protest."
Jeremiah nodded eagerly, and they were seated at a small table by a floor-to-ceiling window. Being three stories up gave them a sprawling view of the mall's inner plaza, watching the sea of people move like colorful ants below. Jeremiah opened the menu, read the first three lines, and almost stood up to leave. The coffee was manageable, but anything more substantial was priced like a car payment.
Dammit, I really wanted that parfait.
Not wanting to show her his "broke" side, he channeled every ounce of his acting ability into a look of sophisticated preference. "I think I'll just stick with a black coffee today. I'm not really in the mood for sweets," he said, a performance he was genuinely proud of.
Nyx gave him a dubious look, then her lips curled into a mischievous grin. "Oh, Teacher... I couldn't help but notice the vein throbbing in your forehead and that very convincing fake smile."
Jeremiah leaned back and crossed his arms, caught out. "These prices are indeed outrageous. I think a bit of a temple-throb is a perfectly fair reaction to being robbed in broad daylight."
Nyx let out a light, musical chuckle, but her expression soon shifted into something more reflective. "You know, a few weeks ago, I came here for the first time in my life. This was actually the first real store I'd ever seen. For me, I didn't know the prices were high. I didn't have anything to compare it to. I was just... finally living in the world I'd only ever seen through a screen."
There was a melancholic edge to her voice. Jeremiah didn't speak, holding her violet gaze with a quiet, steady intensity.
"You know, Jeremiah," she continued, focusing entirely on him now. "I've gotten to know you—at least the parts you let me see. You understood something was wrong this morning, but you didn't ask me any questions. I just wondered... why not?"
Jeremiah uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. "I don't ask because I know you—at least better than anyone else does. You aren't some damsel in distress. You're strong. But as your teacher... no, as your comrade…your friend... I want to be there for you when you need a place to go or someone to talk to. Don't mistake my silence for indifference. I do care, Nyx."
He stared into her eyes, his expression earnest. Nyx finally gave him the look he realized he had been craving all morning—a beautiful, genuine smile. Gods, what am I doing? Only with her am I ever this much at a loss.
The server arrived with their order: a stark black coffee for him and a towering, decadent parfait for Nyx. It looked incredible, but Jeremiah winced internally just remembering the cost.
They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Nyx's expression darkened slightly. She began swirling her straw in her drink, her eyes downcast.
"Yesterday showed me I can lose you in more than one way," she whispered. "The dread I felt... not knowing if you were okay after an attack like that. It scared me. And what made it worse was that I couldn't help. I felt weak."
Jeremiah opened his mouth to reassure her, but the secrets of his nature stayed his tongue. Before he could find the right words, a sudden chill seemed to settle over the table.
"And then," Nyx continued, her voice gaining a icy edge, "when you did come back, every woman in that other unit was practically throwing themselves at you. The nerve."
Her eyes were momentarily lifeless, a cold, possessive fire burning within them. She looked genuinely pissed. Why does she look so cute when she's angry? Wait—is she actually feeling possessive?
Before he could answer, she looked him dead in the eyes. "You will not be taken from me. Not by our enemies, and especially not by another woman. You are my sword, and I am your bow."
Jeremiah let out a startled chuckle, leaning back as a massive grin took over his face.
"Well, don't worry too much, Saintess. I'm not going anywhere. I've still got plenty to teach you." He winked at her, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. "Besides, I think I like this side of you. There's nothing better than a woman who knows exactly what she wants."
Nyx's cold expression melted instantly, replaced by a radiant, triumphant smile.