The massive room stretched out like a cathedral of shadows. The air itself was thick, each breath sticking to my lungs like tar. The black stone walls loomed, carved with twisted reliefs of battles between gods, beasts, and men. Purple and crimson light bled through the stained windows, painting the chamber in eerie hues that shifted as if alive. Banners hung from towering pillars, each one embroidered with the mark of the Shadow God. The runes glowed faintly, whispering to anyone who dared look too closely.
And at the far end of the impossibly long table, like a dark star pulling everything into his orbit, sat Dracula.
He wasn't simply a man. He was a presence. His aura bled into the room, into my very bones, until even my own blood seemed to hesitate. My heart thumped erratically, as though considering whether it was worth angering him by daring to beat at all.
He sat there in silence, one hand resting on the carved armrest of his throne-like chair, the other holding a goblet. The thick, metallic scent made it clear what filled it: blood. He sipped calmly, as if this wasn't grotesque but natural, as if I was the strange one for finding it horrifying.
When his eyes lifted to meet mine, I felt them pierce straight through my soul. They were red — not a bright, fiery red, but the deep crimson of dying embers, cold and knowing. I froze, terrified that if I met that gaze too long, my own eyes would burst.
Finally, he spoke.
"Sebastian. Take a seat."
The words weren't loud. They didn't need to be. Each syllable carried a weight that pressed down on me, forcing me to obey. My body moved before my brain caught up, dragging itself toward the chair across from him.
"Sebastian," he continued, voice smooth yet edged with something dangerous, "I heard you took off with the steed under my custody, without asking me first. And you fell from it. Injured yourself. Did I get everything right?"
His tone wasn't angry. It was worse. Calm. Patient. The way a predator might idly paw at its prey before deciding whether to kill it.
"Yes… uh… fa—father. I did. I apologize."
The word nearly stuck in my throat. Calling him "father" felt wrong, like swallowing broken glass. Yet not saying it would've been far deadlier.
His crimson eyes narrowed ever so slightly. My chest tightened. I kept my mouth shut, afraid that even breathing wrong would seal my fate.
Then, to my disbelief, he leaned back and exhaled softly.
"Oh well," Dracula said, as if it was nothing. "At least you're alive."
I blinked. He wasn't mad? That didn't line up with anything I'd gathered from Seb's memories. The "real" Seb would've been punished harshly for such insolence. Which meant either Dracula had changed… or he was testing me.
"I… thank you, father."
For a moment, silence stretched. The only sound was the faint drip of blood from his goblet back into the cup, as though the liquid itself feared to leave his hand.
"You're surprisingly quick to apologize today," Dracula said at last. His lips curved in something that wasn't quite a smile, but not displeasure either. "Tell me, Sebastian. Do you understand what it means to take without asking?"
The question was simple. But I could feel barbs hidden beneath it.
"…It means disrespect. Irresponsibility," I answered carefully.
Dracula tapped one long finger against the rim of his cup. "And?"
I swallowed. "…It means I failed to consider the value of what I took."
"Better," he murmured. "Most would have stopped at the first two. Self-centered answers. But value is the heart of the matter."
He leaned forward slightly, and though he hadn't raised his voice, the weight of the room doubled.
"Everything has value, Sebastian. Every servant in this castle. Every soldier in the courtyard. Even the lowest ghoul sweeping the floors. Each plays their role. Each contributes to the whole. When you take without thought, you risk unraveling the order I have built."
His eyes burned into me. "Do you understand?"
"Yes," I said quickly. Too quickly.
Dracula tilted his head. "Do you truly?"
I forced myself not to look away. "I… I believe I do. You mean that nothing exists without purpose. That everyone has worth, no matter how small."
"Exactly." He reclined again, satisfied. "A ruler who does not see the value in his people is no ruler at all. A father who does not see the value in his son is no father. A servant who does not see the value in his master is no servant. Do you see, Sebastian? Value binds us all."
His words carried a conviction that was… terrifying. Not because they were wrong, but because they were so absolute. He believed them completely.
I clenched my hands under the table. My nails dug into my palms. I couldn't let him dominate this entire conversation, not if I wanted to survive this nightmare intact.
"Father," I said carefully, "I… understand your philosophy. But…"
Dracula's eyes sharpened. "But?"
I swallowed. "…Isn't it naïve? To believe that everyone has value? Some people are… worthless. Cowards. Betrayers. Monsters in human skin. Are we to say they matter as much as the loyal? As much as those we actually care about?"
The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. The shadows stirred, creeping higher up the walls.
And then, to my shock, Dracula chuckled. It wasn't warm, but it wasn't mocking either. It was… amused.
"Ah. So you've grown claws." He set the goblet down and steepled his fingers. "Tell me more, Sebastian. What do you truly believe?"
My heart hammered. Every instinct screamed at me to shut up. But if I played the timid son, I'd only raise suspicion. He was testing me. He wanted to see what I was made of.
So I breathed deep and spoke.
"I believe… people only have as much value as the bonds they form. To me, my family has value." The words felt heavy leaving my mouth. "But strangers? Enemies? No. Their lives mean nothing compared to the people I care about. Why should they? If it comes down to me or them… I'll choose me. Every time."
The silence that followed was suffocating. I half expected him to tear my head off on the spot.
Instead, Dracula's lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile.
"Only those you care about have value… hm." He studied me like a specimen in a jar. "A selfish creed. But an honest one."
I tried not to flinch. "…And your creed is selfless?"
"No," he said simply. "Practical. Order is built not on love, nor on selfish bonds, but on recognition. When a ghoul cleans the floor, he has value. When a soldier bleeds in the mud, he has value. When a mother raises a child, she has value. Not because I care for them personally, but because their existence contributes to the greater whole. To deny them value is to deny the foundation of this castle, this domain, this world."
His voice deepened, resonating like a tolling bell.
"You think you can survive by caring only for those close to you? Foolish. One day, you will face an army. Your bonds will not shield you. Only order will. Only the recognition that even the smallest pawn has value."
The sheer conviction in his words made me falter. For a second, I almost believed him.
But then I forced myself to push back.
"…And what happens, father, when the pawn betrays you? When the ghoul decides he'd rather run than clean? When the soldier deserts? What value do they have then?"
Dracula's smile didn't falter. "Even betrayal has value. A deserter teaches loyalty by contrast. A traitor sharpens vigilance. A coward shows the strength of the brave. Nothing is wasted. Everything… has value."
The words rolled over me like thunder. My throat was dry. Part of me wanted to give in, to nod and accept his philosophy. But another part screamed that it was wrong. Too neat. Too perfect.
"No," I said, surprising even myself. My voice was steadier than I expected. "You're wrong. Not everything has value. Some things are just… rot. Decay. Useless weight dragging the rest down. If you pretend they matter, you blind yourself. And blindness gets you killed."
The temperature dropped again. My skin prickled. But I forced myself to keep going.
"I won't lie and say I care about strangers. I don't. I won't lie and say I see value in everyone. I don't. Only those I choose matter. Only those I protect. That's my philosophy."
The silence stretched once more.
Then Dracula laughed. A low, booming laugh that echoed through the hall and rattled the banners.
"Ha! At last, Sebastian speaks like himself!"
My heart lurched. Did he… did he buy it?
Dracula rose from his seat, towering over me like a storm given form. He walked slowly around the table, every step echoing like a drumbeat of doom.
When he stood before me, I dared to look up. His eyes blazed with something unreadable — fury, pride, amusement, all at once.
"You are bold to defy me. Bold to speak against my creed. And boldness…" His lips curled. "…has value."
He placed a hand on my shoulder. It was cold, heavy, suffocating.
"Remember this, Sebastian. You are my son. Whether you follow my path or carve your own, you carry my blood. Do not squander it."
I swallowed hard. "…Yes, father."
Dracula turned, returning to his throne. He picked up the goblet once more, sipping calmly as if nothing had happened.
"I have a meeting soon," he said without looking at me. "Stay in your room until it ends. Do not wander. Do not pry. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
But of course, I didn't listen. Not a chance.
When I left the suffocating hall, my mind was still racing. His words clung to me like cobwebs, their weight refusing to leave. I couldn't shake the clash of philosophies — his order versus my bonds. His universal value versus my chosen value.
But for now, I had something more important to pursue.
The library.
Information.
Knowledge was worth more than gold or power here. If I was going to survive this nightmare, I needed to know what game I'd been dragged into.
And so, ignoring his warning, I turned my steps not toward my room, but toward the endless corridors of the dark castle.