Ayla's amber eyes turned crimson, her fangs ready to bare.
"I heard you playing the piano once months ago, at the music hall," Kier said suddenly. "It was really pleasant to listen to. The song sounded oddly familiar…"
Ayla froze. Her mouth hung slightly open, fangs glinting faintly in the dim light, but she didn't lunge.
When Kier noticed she had stopped walking, he turned to face her. The red faded from her eyes before his gaze could meet them, and her lips pressed closed.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "You probably thought you were alone. I should have let you be, but… I stayed outside the hall to listen."
"Why… do you find it familiar?" she asked, her voice quieter than before.
"Ah." Kier chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. "My childhood memories are kind of fuzzy, so I might be wrong. But I remember my old neighbor used to play the same piece almost every day. The one you played reminded me of it. I was wondering if it's an old song. There are plenty of forgotten melodies these days and I'm not exactly well-versed in music, so it wouldn't surprise me if that's the case."
Ayla didn't reply. She just stared at him, unmoving.
Kier filled the silence. "I used to live in District Seventeen with my mother. It was a remote area. There was this small stone house beside ours, lonely-looking, though the yard was full of flowers. The fence looked like spikes, too. I was only ten, so my memory's a bit blurry. But I remember hearing piano music from that house. My mom said a girl my age lived there with her father, but I never saw her. The father, though, I saw often, coming and going. On the nights he didn't return… I'd slip food through the fence."
Ayla's face was unreadable.
"Why would you do that when you'd never even seen her? Never talked to her?"
Kier shrugged. "The ten-year-old me just thought she might be lonely. Or hungry. My mom worked most of the day, so my brother and I learned to cook and look after ourselves. But that girl, she was alone."
Something flickered across Ayla's expression, but under the weak, sputtering light of the lamppost, Kier didn't catch it.
"She played beautifully," he said after a pause. "It's a shame I never saw her face. Not long after, we moved here in District 15."
They continued walking until they reached the main street. Ayla said nothing, and Kier didn't speak again. He wondered if he had talked too much, if she found him annoying.
A taxi pulled up.
"I'll take this," Ayla said, stepping away without meeting his eyes.
Kier watched the cab door close, the red taillights cutting through the drizzle until they disappeared into the night.
She didn't give him a proper goodbye. He noticed her face had grown a little too serious unlike the carefree expression she'd worn earlier at the pub.
Had he said something wrong?
As he walked toward the bus stop, Kier kept replaying their last conversation in his head, wondering if he'd somehow upset her.
He was nearly there when something caught his eye. Passing by a narrow alleyway, he stopped and stepped back. From the entrance, he saw a small girl slumped on the grimy ground, knees tucked to her chest, face buried in her arms, shoulders trembling.
She was crying.
What's a kid doing here at this hour?
She didn't seem homeless. Her clothes looked decent enough. Maybe she'd gotten separated from her parents. It was dangerous for any human to be out late, but for a child, it was practically a death wish.
Kier hesitated only for a moment before walking into the alley.
He crouched beside her. "Hey, kid, are you lost?"
The girl just kept sobbing, her cries muffled against her sleeves. Kier knelt lower, resting on one knee, and gently tapped her shoulder.
"Can we talk for a second? I'm not a bad guy. I can help you find your parents if you're lost."
"Can you help me find my parents too?"
Kier's head snapped to his right. A man stood a few feet away, half-hidden by the shadows.
His eyes were red.
Kier turned back toward the girl but she was gone. In her place lay a lifeless doll, wearing the same dress.
"No…" Kier whispered. Realization hit him like ice water. A vampire's trap.
"I don't need my parents," the vampire said, smiling as his eyes gleamed scarlet. "I just need a meal."
In a blink, he was right beside Kier.
The vampire slammed him into the wall with inhuman force, his hand clamped around Kier's throat.
Kier felt bones snap like dry twigs. He tried to scream, but the vampire's grip crushed his windpipe before he could make a sound.
His vision blurred. His head pounded. He couldn't tell which pain came first—the impact, or the panic.
Then the fangs sank in.
Hot, searing pain shot through his neck as blood drained from him in greedy gulps. His body went limp, hanging like a rag doll in the vampire's grasp.
"Your blood tastes poor," the vampire muttered with disgust, dropping him to the cold ground. "But enough to keep me sane for a few days. I'll find something better soon."
Kier's body landed in an awkward heap, twisted and broken. As his final breath left his lungs, his eyes fluttered shut.
Three seconds later…
[Ding!]
[Death Log System Activated!]
[Death Transfer Initiated.]
[Recipient: Unknown.]
[Death Transfer Complete — 1 Life Claimed.]
[Welcome back to life, Thief of Death.]