The carriage rattled along the road, each stone beneath its wheels knocking against my patience. I would've given anything to be astride Hairless instead—yes, he was terrifying to anyone who looked at him, but he and I had an understanding. The world looked at him like an omen of doom, but he never judged me. He never complained. He carried me without hesitation. A loyal companion, even if his body was all sinew and exposed skin stretched over bones. A creature of nightmares, but at least he was mine.
Dracula, however, didn't care about my preference. His word was final: "We will arrive like normal nobility, not like heralds of death." I wanted to tell him that nobility and death often arrived hand in hand, but I doubted he'd laugh. So here I was, sealed in a box on wheels, with nothing but the sound of hooves and my own irritation echoing in my skull.
Across from me sat Yuki. She was a ray of warmth in this otherwise suffocating ride. Sunlight filtered through the carriage curtains and kissed her dress, making the lavender fabric glow faintly. The gown wasn't overly ornate; it didn't need to be. Its flowing skirt brushed against her ankles, and a pale ivory ribbon tied around her waist emphasized her figure in a way that was both elegant and unassuming. She wasn't dressed to impress nobles—she was dressed in a way that made me forget anyone else even existed.
I, on the other hand, looked like a corpse ready to be lowered into a grave. A heavy black suit, gloves, a scarf, and a wide-brimmed hat that shielded me from every possible ray of sunlight. The effect was… less "mysterious stranger" and more "walking obituary."
"You're sulking," Yuki said, her voice playfully accusing.
I shifted my gaze to her, deadpan. "I'm not sulking. I'm brooding. There's a difference."
"Oh really?" She leaned forward, chin resting on her hand. "What's the difference?"
I smirked faintly. "Sulking makes you look pathetic. Brooding makes you look mysterious."
She raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. "You don't look mysterious. You look like you're going to your own funeral."
"At least I fit the mood." I let my eyes trace her figure deliberately, watching the color rise in her cheeks. "You, on the other hand, look like you're heading to a wedding."
She blinked, momentarily stunned, then puffed her cheeks. "Would that be so bad?"
The air between us thickened. I turned my head toward the window, pretending not to hear the quickened rhythm of my own heart. "…Depends on who you're marrying."
She laughed softly, but her face stayed flushed as she sat back. The ride quieted after that, though not uncomfortably. Her presence filled the silence more than words ever could.
When the carriage finally slowed, the driver announced, "San Aurelia."
The city unfurled before us like a painted masterpiece. Canals cut between marble streets, their waters catching the sun and scattering it across the walls like living light. Bridges arched delicately overhead, draped with flowering vines. Gondolas drifted lazily, their reflections rippling as vendors called from their stalls, hawking fruit, bread, jewelry, and trinkets carved from pearl. The air smelled of saltwater and roasted spices, tinged with the faint metallic tang of the canals.
Yuki practically flew out of the carriage, her skirt brushing her ankles as she spun in delight. She twirled beneath the sunlight, lifting her arms as though she could embrace the whole city at once.
I stepped out slower, careful to keep in the shadows, and found a bench beneath an arch. Sitting felt safer than weaving through crowds, but mostly it allowed me to watch her without interruption. She darted from stall to stall, tasting candied fruit, nibbling fried fish, and laughing when vendors spoke to her in lilting accents. She looked like she belonged in San Aurelia—bright, alive, and untouchable.
That was when someone sat beside me.
He wasn't old, not really, but the scars etched across his skin gave him a weathered look. Thin marks crossed his arms and cheek, and his hair was shock-white, his eyes unnaturally pale. Not the kind of man who had seen endless war, but one who had tasted enough of it to carry its residue.
"So," he said casually, nodding toward Yuki, "is that girl your wife?"
The question froze me. Lying might get me tangled in something later. Telling the truth… who knew what rules applied here? So I just nodded.
He smirked faintly. "A fine woman."
The way he said it wasn't a compliment. It was an appraisal, like a butcher inspecting a cut of meat. My jaw clenched.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Alexie," he answered smoothly. "Newest priest of the Sun God's army."
That name alone made my blood chill. Alexie. My instincts recoiled as though the syllables themselves were poison.
He tilted his head, his too-white eyes catching the sun. "And you?"
I hesitated before saying, "Sebastian."
His smile widened, stretched too far. "Ah. It's nice to meet you, Sebastian. Be sure to say hello to your wife for me."
He rose and walked away, steps measured, like a man who had said exactly what he came to say.
Yuki returned moments later, holding a skewer of roasted meat. She beamed at me, oblivious to the shadow crawling beneath my skin. "You didn't tell me they had food stalls!"
"I didn't want to interrupt your fun," I muttered.
We walked together after that, weaving through streets that smelled of fresh bread and spice. Children played near fountains shaped like angels, their laughter carrying on the wind. Street musicians strummed lutes and violins, their melodies slipping through alleyways like smoke.
I tried to relax, but Alexie's words clung to me. His smile, his voice. That feeling of inevitability that came with his name. Like I had shaken hands with my own executioner.
And then—
From a shadowed alley, a cracked voice called: "Ah… young man. Come here. I can sense the unease in your heart."
"Keep walking," I muttered to Yuki, steering her toward the open street.
But she dug her heels into the stones. "Wait—she's a fortune-teller. I've always wanted to try one of these."
I narrowed my eyes. "Yuki, no. Alleyways with strange old women don't end well. That's horror-story 101."
"Oh, come on. What's the worst that could happen?" she asked, already tugging on my hand with that damn foxlike determination of hers.
"The worst? Death. Possession. Eternal damnation. Take your pick."
She gave me an exaggerated eye-roll. "You're dramatic. Let's just hear her out. If she curses us, I'll buy you dessert later."
That made me pause. "…Depends what kind of dessert."
Her grin widened in triumph. "See? You're already caving."
And against every screaming instinct in my chest, I let her drag me into the shadow of the alley.
The air shifted immediately. The smell of sea salt and roasted food from the streets faded into something darker—herbs burning in clay pots, smoke that clung to the lungs, and an earthy dampness that reminded me of crypts. Crystals and bones dangled overhead on thin cords, swaying like the teeth of some unseen beast.
The old woman sat at a crooked wooden table, her cloak draped around her like woven night. Her eyes were cloudy, unfocused, but when they landed on Yuki, it was like the fog cleared for just a moment.
"Ah," she croaked, raising a trembling hand. "Let us see your fate, child."
Yuki leaned forward eagerly, slipping into the seat without hesitation. I stayed standing, arms crossed, every nerve in me coiled tight.