Niran looked at Dao and had completely lost faith in the possibility of getting what he wanted. He was lying on the floor of a student dorm room—half-naked, dirty, weak, and utterly confused. There was no doubt about it: Dao was the Marked one. He wasn't about to play dumb like athree-legged rabbit and deny reality. His eyes gleamed violet under the energy-saving lights, and when he touched Niran, the vampire went into convulsions, and something stung exactly on his left shoulder blade—it was probably a flower tattoo. And all his strength had vanished. He felt so weak, that he was afraid he might die. Niran squinted, searching Dao’s eyes for judgment or disgust—but found none. He genuinely looked concerned. After the performance he had just witnessed, no wonder. But then a simple truth finally dawned on Niran, one he’d ignored in the chaos. The boy in front of him was his Marked one that meant he didn’t have to keep searching anybody across the university. He frowned and smirked wickedly.

Even in his weakened state, Niran still had a powerful body and shrugging off the Bamboo stick and pushing away the witches was nothing for him. He loomed over Dao with eyes burning of impatience. He could drink him right here, right now and no need to run anymore. Fate and accident had finally aligned in his favor. He tried to catch Dao’s scent—but nothing, his vampire powers were at zero. Still, he didn’t get upset. He bited his prey’s neck with full force and... Something went wrong. Dao started thrashing and fighting back so violently, Niran nearly flew up to the ceiling from his leg kicks. But that wasn’t even the worst part, the beating he could handle. His mouth didn`t fill with blood. All he tasted was the natural scent and flavor of skin—then he flung backward. Niran slammed into the wall, his head got buzzed. The witches rushed to him, trying to save him from enraged Dao.

“You idiot! What the hell did you bite me for?! I oughta knock out the rest of your teeth! Come here, you fashion freak in your fancy pants!” Dao rushed to them, but Naam immediately used all her strength and touch his arm, trying to stop him. She couldn’t completely douse his anger, but at least he wasn’t lunging at Niran anymore. “What the hell did you do in the room? Why are you all painted up? Are you high or something?”

“Dao, don’t mind P'Niran, he just drank a little too much, got scared, and ran out. It happens, right? Never happened to you?” Before Dao could answer, she led him away down the corridor. “Just go back to your room and try to remember. We’ll put him to bed.”

“But... isn't he dangerous for you? What if he bites you too?” Dao looked confused by how fast his own emotions had changed. He’d wanted to set Niran on fire just minutes ago—and now he felt completely calm.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. He’ll go to sleep, and in a couple of hours, you won’t even recognize him!” She looked back at Niran. “Or maybe you will. He’ll shove everyone into corners again, bragge about his shirts, and growl,” she said, making the vampire look at her angrily, but he didn't say anything.

“Okay, well... if anything happens, knock on my door. Room 413,” Dao nodded, looked at Niran, and rubbed his own neck. “I’m gonna go disinfect this bite. Hope he doesn’t have rabies,”  Dao added sarcastically and stepped into his room.

“I don’t know what’s keeping me from killing all of you. Do you realize I’m a killer, donºt you? That I´m a vampire? I lost count of how many people I’ve killed in the past.”

He made sure to emphasize the word kill and all its forms, so the stupid witches wouldn’t miss the important information. “Everything’s going to hell again.”

“P'Niran, it’s not that bad,” Ji began, but the vampire waved her off and walked into the room where they had performed the ritual.

The witches followed him. Niran walked in and kicked the pot. But he forgot Dao was nearby. Agonizing pain shot through his foot, and the pot only tipped over instead of flying into the wall. He grabbed his foot and started hopping on the spot. Ji rushed to help him somehow, but Naam grabbed her arm and shook her head. Niran’s foot turned red. He hobbled to the bed and sat on the edge while the witches mopped up the water and transferred it into a bucket. The last thing they needed was to explain the flooding of the room downstairs to the dean. Ji nodded toward the vampire, but Naam shook her head again, silently asking her to stay out of his way.

Niran sank into a mix of despair and rage. He had spent years hiding from vampire hunters, making them think he was dead. Getting a Marked one and his blood wasn’t supposed to turn into a farce. He was so weak that a human had thrown him off and introduced his back of the head to the wall. The vampire growled and ran his hands through his hair. He looked at the window, then at his phone. Sunset should be coming soon. This day had earned a top spot in Niran’s memory as the worst one. He looked himself over again: filthy, with a bruising foot, exhausted and powerless. He glanced at the silent witches and shook his head. He wanted to flash his scarlet eyes at them—but couldn’t even manage to do that. Niran stood up and turned his back to them, limping slightly.

“Did it show up?” he asked in a low voice.

“Yes. A flower-shaped tattoo appeared on your left shoulder blade. Dao is your Marked one now.” Naam confirmed.

“Will he realize it somehow or notice anything?” Niran asked. “With all this chaos, I’m not sure about anything anymore. All the old knowledge has gone down the volcano.”

“No. For Dao, nothing has changed. But now, any vampire who sees him will sense the blood of the Marked one. But none of them will be able to bite him. Only you will do it,” Naam said carefully.

“I can’t bite him. My fangs...” he smiled. “I lost my fangs. I basically tried to bite the skin of some guy on a dorm floor. If there are cameras around—and I’m sure there are—they’ll send me straight to a psych ward. How am I supposed to fulfill my dream of restoring the vampire race if I—their king—can’t even flash my damn fangs?”

“If the ritual was successful and you found your Marked one, then there is a way,” Naam nodded and looked to Ji for support. She wasn’t just a seer—she knew how to interpret fate’s signs. “I don’t think a physical, violent act will complete your initiation as king of the vampires, Pi'Niran. You need to bite him.”

“Definitely won’t complete. When I drink blood from a blood bank or prey’s neck, things work in different ways. The first way only kills the hunger, the second one gives me power far beyond my usual strength”.He confirmed her words. “But now I’ve got no idea what to do.”

"If I understood my own prediction about you correctly, then here's the situation... Just don't get mad, P'Niran," Ji said, pursing her lips in confusion.

"I'm too tired to kill you—speak," he replied tiredly.

"The blood of the Marked one is a gift that grants great power. I don't think the detection ritual has much to do with San's nail in the pot. Let's admit it: a dandelion seed flies into a tornado, it doesn't choose the road," she nodded. "In the past, you would've had to search for the Marked one for days—maybe years—using dreams, scent, and glints in the eyes. But today? We found him in minutes. Let's say the first person you fought was Nong'Dao. Karma didn't like that."

"So you're telling me this isn't all because of that straw-stuffed fool?" He raised a brow. "I ought to kill her."

"Most likely, no. You have to earn this power. Nong'Dao can't just give his life and blood to you. Everything has a price. The universe demands balance in one form or another. And you know this better than I do."

"If we reinterpret your prediction, Nong'Ji, then it means...," Naam looked first at her sister, then at Niran, " You need to make Dao trust you. Your greatest weakness is Dao. Dao's guide is weakness. Only when you're at your most vulnerable your ability to bite and your strength will return to you."

"And how am I supposed to be vulnerable to him?!" Niran tilted his head. "That's nonsense!"

"It's not nonsense," Naam cut short too serious. "You don't trust anyone. Not even your brothers—you've never even met them. You've shut everyone out and keep them at distance. You bought three floors in the congo just to live in one room."

"I like silence," Niran blinked, beginning to realise what Naam and Ji's prediction were getting at.

"And how do you plan to build a vampire kingdom? Reclaim your clan? Revive the memory of your race if you don't want to connect with anyone?" Naam frowned. "Your goal contradicts the very idea. Having a clan is a weakness. If you're not willing to be vulnerable, maybe you're not ready to be the vampire king," she added with a slight challenge in her voice.

And then the meaning of everything finally hit Niran. The world was testing him. He had survived a nightmare when he lost his clan in the past. He wanted to revive it, to keep his race from vanishing—but that also meant exposing his back again. When you only care about yourself and saving yourself, others stop mattering. But what about the others? Dao—the idiot Dao—the Bamboo stick—was his challenge. He had to earn Dao’s trust. A king isn't a king if his people don't believe in him. Dao would be the first step toward reviving the clan. As much as he wanted to rip off San’s head, she had nothing to do with this. He raised his tired eyes to the sisters and exhaled.