It's been four months.
Four months since Yuki first jumped across that gazebo table and kissed me like a fox ambushing its prey. Four months since the maids decided my room wasn't big enough for one and quietly delivered me a roommate with nine tails and a smug grin. Four months since I admitted—to myself, to her, to the world—that I liked her. Maybe even loved her.
And in those four months, everything has changed.
I've grown comfortable here. Too comfortable. That thought alone gnaws at the back of my head when I wake up in the mornings—if you could even call what I do "waking." I don't need sleep. I haven't needed it since I awakened. But I stay in bed anyway. Because she's there.
Yuki curls into me every night like I'm her pillow, her ears twitching at the faintest sound, her tails wrapping around me like a cocoon. And every morning, I find myself playing with her hair without even realizing it, my fingers weaving through the silky white strands, brushing them away from her sleeping face. It's become a ritual. One that feels more real than it should.
That's what scares me.
Because this isn't real.
This is a nightmare—a twisted illusion my mind is trapped in until I find a way out. When I finally wake up… what happens to her? To this castle? To everything I've built here? Do they vanish like smoke, like shadows at dawn? Or do they keep existing without me, never even realizing I was gone?
I don't know. And I don't want to know.
But every time I remind myself of that truth, she stirs in her sleep, like she can sense my thoughts turning dark. And I hate myself for it—because it's easier to just shut up, hold her tighter, and pretend that this nightmare is my reality.
"Seb…"
Her voice pulled me back to the present. I glanced down and found her awake, still nestled against me, her blue eyes hazy with sleep.
"You're comfy. Don't move." She burrowed closer.
I chuckled softly, brushing her hair back from her face. "Wasn't planning to."
Her ears twitched as my fingers slipped through her hair again. She blinked up at me suspiciously. "…You were playing with my hair again, weren't you?"
"Maybe."
She pouted. "You like it too much to stop, don't you?"
"Maybe," I said again, smirking.
"Cheater."
"Of what crime?"
She mumbled into my chest, "Of making me fall harder every day."
And there it was again—that sharp twist in my chest, half joy and half dread. I stayed silent for a moment, fingers still stroking her hair, before I finally whispered, "Good. Then we're even."
Time slipped through my fingers like sand.
I've been training with the werewolf professor these past few months. Don't let those glasses fool you — he's a monster. The kind that could break boulders with his fists if he wanted to.
When he said he would "teach me to fight," I thought he meant sparring, maybe a few tips on balance and form. Instead, he worked me until my bones screamed, until my muscles begged for mercy. He didn't just want me to swing a sword. He wanted me to survive.
Every day started the same: the professor tossing me across the training yard like I weighed nothing, barking insults about my stance, my breathing, my timing. "You think a vampire's body will carry you, boy? Wrong. A sharpened stick will still kill you if you don't know what the hell you're doing with those hands."
When I staggered, he shoved me back on my feet. When I bled, he told me to bleed later. When I fell flat on my face, he simply growled, "Good. The ground loves you. Marry it. Now get up."
I cursed him a thousand times in my head, but I couldn't deny the results. My body toughened. My reflexes sharpened. I learned when to dodge, when to strike, when to kill. And beneath all his cruelty, I saw it — the faintest glimmer of pride when I managed to land a hit, or when I finally lasted more than five minutes without collapsing.
But even then the Days blurred together, but not in the suffocating way nightmares usually trap you. No, this was… soft. Almost idyllic. Yuki and I had grown inseparable. We were the scandal of the castle—whispers trailed after us wherever we went, skeleton guards made jokes about "young love," and the maids teased us like their favorite soap opera couple. I hated it. She loved it. Which meant, of course, that I had to tolerate it.
We wandered the castle halls hand in hand, her tails brushing against me with every step. She always walked like she owned the place—chin high, grin mischievous—but she never let go of my hand, like she was daring anyone to say something.
"Stop smiling like that," I muttered one afternoon as we strolled past the stained-glass windows, their colors painting her hair in a cascade of blues and reds.
"Smiling like what?"
"Like you're up to something."
"Maybe I am," she teased, swinging our arms dramatically. "Or maybe I just like being around you."
"…Cheesy."
"And you love it."
I rolled my eyes, but my lips betrayed me by twitching upward. Damn her.
The library had become her second favorite haunt—after my room, of course. She sprawled across my lap in Fox form while I tried to read, pretending to be invested in ancient histories while actually doodling fox ears on every portrait she found.
"That's an ancient war general you just gave bunny teeth to," I pointed out.
"Improvement," she said smugly, flicking her tail across my face.
At dinner, the maids outdid themselves in the art of mockery. Every dish came out in heart shapes. Heart-shaped bread. Heart-shaped vegetables. Even heart-shaped steak. Yuki squealed with delight, leaning against me like it was the best thing that had ever happened.
"You know they're only doing this because you blush every time," she whispered, her breath tickling my ear.
"I do not blush."
"You're blushing right now."
"…Shut up and eat your carrots."
She laughed so hard she nearly toppled out of her chair, her tails wagging uncontrollably. I tried not to smile. I failed.
We had just finished dinner when Dracula set his goblet down with a soft clink that echoed far too loudly in the silent hall. His crimson eyes swept over us—lingering on our joined hands—before returning to me.
"I will be leaving for the main city tomorrow," he said evenly. "There are matters that demand my attention."
Yuki's ears perked up instantly. Her entire body practically vibrated with excitement. "Can I come too? Please?"
I nearly choked on my wine. "What?"
She turned to me with pleading eyes that could melt glaciers. "Seb, I've never been! I want to see the city, the markets, the lights—I want to go!"
"No," I said immediately.
Her jaw dropped. "What do you mean, no?"
"I mean exactly that. No."
She leaned closer, glaring with the ferocity of a fox cornered. "Don't treat me like a child. I can handle myself."
I set my cup down harder than I intended, staring her down. "Yuki, you don't understand. Something about this doesn't feel right. My gut's screaming at me, and I don't like it. I don't want you getting caught up in—"
"In what? In your paranoia?" she snapped, ears flat against her head.
The sting hit harder than I expected. Maybe because she was right. Maybe because she wasn't.
Dracula sipped his wine silently, watching us like we were chess pieces on his board.
Yuki straightened, crossing her arms defiantly. "Fine. If you're so worried, then you'll just have to come with me."
"…What?"
"You heard me. If you're scared, then come too. Problem solved."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "…You're impossible."
"And you're overprotective," she shot back, tail flicking. "But you'll come, right?"
I sighed, already knowing I'd lost the battle before it began. "…Fine. I'll come."
Her entire face lit up as she leaned over and kissed my cheek, her tails wagging behind her. "Good boy."
I muttered under my breath, "One day you're going to get me killed."
But the truth was, I'd follow her anywhere. Even into hell.
And that terrified me more than any nightmare ever could.