Part 5

The last snowflakes were melting under the rays of the sun that marked the beginning of a new morning. The water formed by the melting snow quickly slipped between the roots of the plants and the bark of the trees in the refined English garden of the Dokovic mansion.

The sparkling light that pierced through the enormous window of the Renaissance-style bedroom, where Yuna lay peacefully, gently touched her rosy face. After a few movements and muttered complaints, the young Nakama, who had been unconscious until then, slowly opened her eyes.

“Where am I?” she asked herself as she realized she didn’t recognize the room.

As she struggled to sit up on the edge of the king-sized bed, she confirmed that she had no idea where she had woken up.

The room was large, with a Renaissance style, as if taken from another century, or even another life. The light colors, alternating with sky blues and golden details, harmonized perfectly with the decor. Without reaching a pompous excess, the large floral ornaments subtly brightened the room with shimmering white details. The heavy, luminous pearl-white curtains dressed the enormous windows that lined the vertical wall.

The room’s decor, featuring white furniture with golden accents, indicated it was a woman's room. Between two birchwood doors stood a wardrobe with mirrors that reflected the bed where Yuna lay—a four-poster bed with strong, rough fabric hanging from it. Next to one of the doors, in the corner of the wall, in front of a fine tapestry, was a singular vanity accompanied by a distinguished jewelry box, revealing a multitude of treasures inside.

It didn’t seem like the bedroom of just any woman; it looked like the chamber of a great queen.

“You fainted from stress,” Yuna heard behind her. She turned slowly, her head aching, and saw Vincent sitting in one of the room’s two sofas, his eyes never leaving the book he held. “But you’re not injured,” he added, slamming the book shut and fixing his gaze on the young woman.

“Who are you?” she asked without hesitation.

Yuna would have jumped out of bed, facing the young man once more, if not for the throbbing pain in her head and the tremor in her legs that still lingered.

A few seconds of silence settled between them, as if the world had stopped, leaving only the two of them. While it was clear that the young man’s enormous attractiveness and calm presence had much to do with her state, Yuna felt tranquil. Despite everything that had happened, each time she found herself near him, a sense of peace and serenity filled her heart.

Just as the copper-haired young man seemed about to speak again, Patrick and Ronnie entered through one of the bedroom doors.

"Looks like she’s awake," Patrick said, glancing at the confused Yuna.

“Are you sure she’s the one?” Ronnie asked disdainfully. “She seems a little, I don’t know, different from how I remember her,” he finished, scratching his neck.

“Excuse me?” Yuna asked, even more disoriented.

Ronnie was one of Patrick’s old friends. They had fought great battles and endured enormous hardships together, never straying far from one another. Dark as ebony, with hazel eyes and jet-black hair, Ronnie was a man whose life Patrick had saved, and in gratitude, he had sworn him complete loyalty.

“Can someone explain what’s going on?!” Yuna shouted at the men, who kept their eyes fixed on her.

“You are the reincarnation of our founder,” the boy answered with a playful smile.

“I’m what?”

“Such little tact,” Patrick muttered, rubbing his forehead.

“You heard him,” Ronnie confirmed, raising an eyebrow.

Vincent watched the scene impassively until he sighed deeply and stood up from the sofa. With an elegant gesture, he placed the book on the small table and cleared his throat, signaling the boy to stop.

“We are what modern society calls ‘vampires,’” Vincent said slowly, studying Yuna’s every expression and movement. “We’ve spent centuries mixing and coexisting with humans.”

“You’re crazy,” Yuna accused, standing up quickly to leave the room, but Ronnie blocked her path.

“This is no joke,” he said firmly, and as he spoke, his eyes briefly flashed a deep red.

Ronnie’s body began to deform, much of it turning liquid, transparent like water. His figure was changing, becoming that of an adult.

Yuna was dumbfounded. The annoying boy from just seconds ago had transformed into an adult before her very eyes. But how was that possible?

Could it be that those stories told in fairy tales and fantasy books really existed? How could she deny what she had just seen?

To make sure she wasn’t hallucinating or experiencing some surreal chemical-induced illusion from her cleaning job, she slapped herself hard, leaving everyone in the room speechless.

“Ow! That hurts!” Yuna screamed, holding her cheek.

“Is this girl dumb?” Ronnie said, shocked, barely holding back his laughter.

“Leave her alone, Ronnie. Let’s go,” Patrick said, grabbing his friend by the hood of his sweatshirt and dragging him out of the room.

“Think,” Vincent said to the frozen Yuna after a few moments of silence. “Haven’t strange things happened around you? Some event that unsettled you?”

As if he had read her mind, Yuna recalled all the odd things that had happened throughout her life. She remembered the tragic accident for which she still blamed herself to this day. But the sudden sound of her phone’s ringtone brought her back to the present. When she reached for it to check the message, she saw she had twenty-two messages and twelve missed calls from Nasai.

“How long was I asleep?”

“All night.”

“Oh nooo! My sister is going to kill me!” she cried, covering her mouth with her hands when she realized it was already daytime by looking out the window. “Can you take me to the nearest bus stop?” she finally asked with a playful smile, surprising Vincent with her calmness.

Meanwhile, in Patrick’s office, the crackling of the fireplace and the continuous complaints of an incredulous Ronnie filled the room.

“It can’t be her… She’s so plain,” Ronnie said as he sat on one of the sofas facing Patrick’s favorite corner.

“It’s her. The moment you see her, you feel it in your blood,” Patrick said as he stood in his favorite corner, gazing out the window. “She’s the spitting image.”

“With a smaller chest size, less height, less sensuality, less of everything…” Ronnie mocked, gesturing wildly. But he saw his friend deep in thought, staring at the horizon with his mind elsewhere. “Patrick, lately I feel like you’re distant. Is something bothering you?” he asked, now more serious and concerned.

“…I had the faint impression of seeing her,” Patrick finally said after a long pause, still not taking his eyes off the window.

“Who?”

“Tultïen.”

“That’s impossible.”

“I know…” Patrick affirmed with frustration, clenching his fist.

“After all this time, you’re still thinking about her,” Ronnie remarked with a bitter smile. “Your personality changed drastically after her death. I understand why you don’t want anything to do with women, why you hate them. Just look at how you treat them. But let her go already,” he advised his distant friend as carefully as his direct personality allowed.

“You’re right,” Patrick ended the conversation as he stood, flames beginning to rise around him.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m hungry,” Patrick replied as he disappeared with a dark expression.

Though Ronnie was usually playful, he couldn’t help but feel a pang every time Tultïen was mentioned. He shared a deep bond with Patrick, and he was fully aware that if his friend hadn’t ended his existence yet, it was simply to preserve the memory of his beloved. An act that greatly saddened the young rogue, as he feared the day Patrick would finally give up and bring an end to his own story.