Morning unfolded in quiet luxury.
A vast dorm room bathed in soft light, walls lined with polished glass and pale stone that reflected every detail with quiet perfection.
At its center, she sat.
White hair cascading down her back like untouched snow, each strand carefully guided through the comb by a servant standing behind her. The motion was slow. Precise. Almost reverent.
Her reflection stared back at her.
Red eyes.
Deep. Unblinking. Alive with something that didn't belong to someone her age.
She said nothing.
The servant finished, stepping back slightly.
"Is there anything else, Lady"
"No."
The single word cut cleanly.
She rose.
Smooth. Effortless.
The robe draped over her shoulders shifted as she moved, her presence alone enough to quiet the room further. No rush. No hesitation.
She walked past the doors.
They opened before she reached them.
Outside, the scale of her dorm revealed itself.
Massive.
Built like a private estate rather than a student residence.
Yet she walked alone.
No guards.
No companions.
Just her.
Step by step, she made her way toward the academy, her expression unchanged, her red eyes fixed ahead.
Calm.
Cold.
And already searching.
She stepped into Alpha.
The classroom was vast, yet nearly empty, rows of perfect desks untouched, sunlight spilling across polished floors that no one bothered to disturb. She took her seat in the middle, posture straight, eyes forward.
Parents day.
The thought lingered.
A day where families came. Where names were called with warmth. Where people belonged to someone.
Her fingers tightened slightly.
They won't come.
They never did.
Not last time.
Not before that.
Not ever.
Her teeth clenched, jaw tightening just enough to hurt.
She stood.
Left.
The halls felt louder today, filled with voices that didn't belong to her.
Then ,
She saw it.
From a distance.
Grenzabell.
Dawncer.
Fally.
Thyssara.
And dozens more.
Nearly a hundred students gathered, surrounding one man and his two lieutenants.
Gareth.
Laughter filled the air. Food passed between hands. Smiles were real, unguarded, alive in a way she hadn't seen in a long time.
They weren't just students in that moment.
They were… something else.
Something whole.
Her steps slowed.
Her eyes stayed fixed.
Why…?
The question formed slowly, painfully.
Why do they get that…?
Her chest tightened, something sharp rising beneath the calm surface she always carried.
Why do they get someone who shows up…
Her gaze darkened slightly.
…and I don't?
The laughter echoed again.
Too loud.
Too warm.
Too close to something she didn't have.
Her fingers curled into her palm.
Why am I always the one… standing alone?
She clicked her tongue softly and turned away from the scene, the laughter behind her fading into something distant and irritating, like a sound that refused to belong in her world.
When she returned to her class, the atmosphere had changed. It was subtle, but she felt it immediately. Eyes lingered on her longer than they should. Conversations lowered when she passed. A few students didn't even bother hiding it. They stared openly, curiosity mixed with something sharper.
She walked to her seat.
Then she saw it.
A paper placed neatly on her desk.
She stopped.
Her red eyes lowered slowly.
It was a drawing of her.
Exaggerated. Twisted. Fangs added to her mouth, her expression warped into something monstrous. Above it, written in uneven strokes:
Bloodlastia.
Below it, smaller notes scratched around it.
"freak"
"she's a vampire"
"don't get close"
She didn't move.
Not at first.
Her fingers rested lightly on the desk as her eyes stayed locked on the paper. There was no immediate anger. No visible reaction. Just silence.
Inside, something shifted.
Not new.
Familiar.
This again.
Her mind drifted, recalling the other times. The whispers. The distance people kept. The looks. The names. The quiet exclusion that never needed to be spoken aloud to be understood.
She had handled it before.
Ignored it.
Outlasted it.
Stayed above it.
But it never stopped.
Not once.
Not ever.
Her jaw tightened slightly, the faintest crack in her composure. For a moment, her eyes lost their sharpness, something deeper surfacing beneath the cold surface she maintained so carefully.
Then ,
She smiled.
Cold.
Controlled.
Perfectly placed.
As if none of it mattered.
She picked up the paper, crumpling it slightly before tossing it into the dustbin without a word.
No reaction given.
No satisfaction offered.
She sat down.
Straight.
Composed.
Untouchable.
At least… on the outside.
Inside, the silence grew heavier.
I have no one.
The thought came without resistance.
It didn't feel dramatic.
It felt true.
And that truth pressed deeper than the insults ever could.
Her fingers rested on the desk again, still and quiet.
That's what hurts me the most.
Not the names.
Not the drawings.
Not the stares.
But the absence.
The space where something should have been.
Something she had never had.
And somehow… still wanted.
She froze when she felt it.
A warmth she didn't allow.
Her fingers lifted slightly toward her face, almost instinctively, as if to stop something she couldn't quite name.
Then she saw it.
A tear.
It slid down her cheek before she even understood it was happening.
Her eyes widened a fraction.
"…again?"
The whisper was almost disbelieving.
Her body didn't ask permission. It simply reacted, releasing everything she had been holding down for too long, too tightly, in a way she could no longer control.
More followed.
Slow at first.
Then steadily.
She stood abruptly, chair scraping softly against the floor, and walked out of the classroom without acknowledging the stares that might have followed her.
The hallway felt longer than usual.
Quieter too, like the world itself had stepped back to watch without interfering.
She reached the girls' bathroom and pushed the door open.
Inside, the silence was heavier.
Cold tiles. Bright lighting. A mirror that didn't lie.
She stepped in front of it.
And looked at herself.
White hair slightly unkempt now. Red eyes trembling at the edges. Tear tracks forming lines she didn't recognize on her own face.
For a moment, she just stared.
No expression.
No mask.
Just… observation.
Then the thought came.
Sudden.
Sharp.
Uninvited.
If I removed it all…
Her gaze didn't change, but something behind her eyes did.
If I ripped it out… my eyes… my hair…
The idea didn't feel like horror at first.
It felt like solution.
Like silence.
Like acceptance.
Maybe then I wouldn't be… this.
Her breath hitched.
The tears didn't stop.
They grew instead, falling faster now as something inside her finally cracked through the surface she had spent years building.
A small sound escaped her throat.
Uncontrolled.
Then another.
And suddenly she wasn't standing so straight anymore.
Her shoulders shook slightly as she pressed a hand against the sink, the mirror reflecting someone she no longer felt in control of.
The crying came quietly at first.
Then deeper.
More real.
Not elegant.
Not controlled.
Just human.
Raw.
And for the first time, the silence she had always carried didn't feel strong.
It felt heavy enough to drown in.
She stepped out of the bathroom slowly.
Her eyes were still red, not fully recovered from what had happened inside. The wetness on her cheeks had dried in uneven lines, like proof she couldn't erase no matter how much she tried to ignore it.
Her expression was blank again.
Not calm.
Just emptied.
Each step forward felt heavier than the last, like her body was moving while her mind stayed behind, stuck somewhere in the mirror where she had broken apart without meaning to.
I hate this…
The thought lingered, quiet and sharp.
I hate myself.
She lowered her gaze further, watching the floor instead of the world, as if looking at anything else might force her to feel something again.
That was when it happened.
A collision.
A soft impact as she bumped into someone walking the opposite direction.
A bag shifted.
Food rustled.
She stumbled slightly back.
The boy paused.
Grenzabell.
He looked at her for a moment, then immediately bent down slightly, steadying the bag in one hand while offering the other toward her.
"Sorry," he said simply, voice calm. "Are you okay?"
His hand hovered there.
Not demanding.
Just… there.
She didn't move at first.
Her mind didn't process the words.
It processed him.
Black hair.
Black eyes.
That expression.
That smile.
Behind him, faintly, she noticed others. Friends. Familiar faces. Casual. Unbothered. As if he existed in a space where things didn't constantly try to push him away.
Something inside her shifted.
Slowly at first.
Then violently.
Why him?
Why does he get to look like that?
Why does he stand like that?
Why does he have people… around him?
The feeling rose before she could stop it.
Sharp.
Unfair.
Heavy.
Her hand moved before her thoughts caught up.
She pushed him.
Hard enough to make him stagger.
The bag of food slipped slightly from his grip as he stumbled back, surprised.
"Hey , "
He didn't even finish.
She stepped forward again, faster this time, her body acting before reason could intervene, grabbing him and forcing him down to the ground.
Grenzabell hit the floor, eyes widening slightly, more confused than afraid.
"Wait , what are you doing?"
But she wasn't listening.
Her breathing was uneven now.
Her hand trembled as it hovered over him.
For a second, something terrifying crossed her mind.
If I take his eyes…
The thought didn't feel like hers.
It felt like something deeper had spoken through her.
If I take them… that smile stops.
Her fingers tightened slightly.
Grenzabell didn't fight back.
He just looked at her.
Not in anger.
Not in fear.
Just… confusion.
And something else.
Stillness.
That was what broke her.
Because no matter what she did, no matter how far she went, no matter how ugly her thoughts became…
He still looked like someone who believed the world made sense.
Her hand trembled harder.
The anger didn't vanish.
It collapsed inward.
Into something else.
Something worse.
Her grip loosened slightly.
Her breath hitched.
And then her eyes began to fill again.
Tears forming without permission.
She stared at him.
At his face.
At that calm expression that refused to reflect what she felt inside.
And suddenly the thought that had driven her a moment ago twisted into something painful.
There's no way…
Her voice came out barely audible.
"…there's no way someone like me…"
Her hand dropped.
She stepped back slowly.
The aggression drained out of her body all at once, leaving only shaking silence behind.
Grenzabell slowly sat up, still watching her, unsure what had just happened.
But she wasn't looking at him anymore.
She was looking at the space between them.
At something she couldn't reach.
Something she couldn't become.
And her tears fell again.
Not from anger this time.
But from the quiet, unbearable realization that no matter how hard she tried…
She couldn't seem to exist in the same world as his smile.
Grenzabell stayed seated on the floor for a moment, still holding the fallen bag of food, eyes fixed on her like he was trying to understand a language that kept changing mid-sentence.
The hallway around them had gone quiet in that uncomfortable way where silence wasn't peace, but attention. Students nearby had slowed, some stopping completely, watching the scene unfold without daring to interrupt it.
He finally spoke.
"Hey…"
His voice was calm, almost too calm.
"Everything's not perfect, you know."
For a brief second, it sounded harmless. Even kind.
But the timing… the weight… the way it landed after her breakdown twisted it into something else entirely.
Her red eyes lifted slowly.
The air around her seemed to tighten.
Grenzabell continued, still not fully reading her expression.
"You don't have to act like you're the only one dealing with stuff. Everyone's..."
He stopped mid-thought.
Not because he wanted to.
But because her stare had changed.
Something in it sharpened.
Cold.
Focused.
And deeply personal.
The kindness in his words, intended or not, had struck somewhere it shouldn't have.
For her, it didn't sound like comfort.
It sounded like dismissal.
Like he didn't see her pain as different.
As real.
Her fingers curled slightly.
The space between them felt smaller now, heavier.
Around them, whispers began to form among the watching students, sensing the shift.
Grenzabell noticed it too late.
"…What?"
But she didn't answer.
Not with words.
Just with a look that made it very clear:
Whatever he thought he was doing… he had just stepped into something he didn't understand.
Grenzabell stood there for a moment longer, watching her retreating figure, the weight of the encounter still sitting strangely in his chest.
I'm not good with this stuff…
His thoughts drifted back to Thyssara's words from the day before, sharp and simple advice he didn't fully understand but decided to rely on anyway.
"Just… say something honest," he muttered to himself.
So he moved.
He stepped forward quickly, caught up to her, and without overthinking it, gently lifted her up from the ground by her arm and steadied her as if she might collapse again.
"Hey," he said, softer this time, voice awkward but sincere. "You don't have to carry everything alone. It's okay… really."
The words landed before he realized how they sounded.
Around them, the hallway students went still again, watching closely, sensing something delicate being handled the wrong way.
The red-eyed girl froze.
Then slowly turned her head toward him.
Her expression wasn't just hurt anymore.
It was empty in a deeper way.
Like something had already broken beyond repair.
"…Gravely," she said quietly.
A name finally given.
Not warmth.
Not introduction.
Just identity.
She pulled her arm free from his grip and took a step back.
Whispers immediately followed her.
"Bloodlastia…"
"That's her…"
"She's the vampire girl…"
The names clung to her like shadows she couldn't outrun.
Her jaw tightened.
"I hate him," she said under her breath, barely audible, more to herself than anyone else.
Then she turned away and walked off, shoulders stiff, eyes still wet but colder than before.
Grenzabell didn't follow.
He just stood there, unsure if he had helped… or made something worse.
Gravely walked alone down the corridor, the whispers fading behind her but never truly leaving.
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides.
The tears had stopped now.
Not because she was fine.
But because she was done letting them fall in front of people.
Her expression hardened with every step.
No one would ever understand me.
The thought settled quietly inside her, not as anger anymore…
But as certainty.