"…Hanhyul," Velra murmured.
The woman's breath hitched.
"So you do recognize it."
Velra glanced at her, almost puzzled by the tension in her voice. "Of course I do. It's uncommon among humans, yes… but for us, it's like a seasonal cold. Annoying. Nothing more."
The woman stared at her.
Cold?
Her hands trembled slightly. "Excuse me?"
Velra tilted her head. "Hanhyul disease is, at its core, a disorder of the blood vessels. The flow becomes obstructed. Pressure builds. The cold sensation you feel is stagnation. For a vampire, whose entire existence revolves around blood manipulation, it's trivial."
Trivial.
The word struck harder than any insult.
For years she had endured the pain in silence—
the stabbing cold in her chest,
the weakness in her limbs,
the nights where breathing itself felt like inhaling shards of ice.
Doctors had called it incurable.
Priests had called it fate.
Some had whispered it was a curse.
And this demon—
This demon called it trivial.
