From where we were sitting at our secluded high-top table, I had a perfect, unobstructed view of the entire ballroom. The grand party was in full swing, a dazzling display of wealth, power, and ancient supernatural politics. But despite the hundreds of elite guests mingling and sipping from crystal flutes, the undeniable center of gravity in the room was concentrated in one specific direction.
Luke and his father, Atticus White, were holding court.
Atticus stood tall, projecting an aura of immense, relaxed authority, while various supernatural dignitaries and clan heads lined up just to exchange a few polite words with the supreme head of the city's Magic Council. The sheer respect—and thinly veiled fear—he commanded was staggering.
But there was another layer to the heavy atmosphere in the ballroom. It wasn't just standard political bootlicking. There was a palpable, nervous anticipation buzzing through the crowd. Over the past few days, a massive rumor had apparently shaken the foundations of Nebula City's underworld: a proposed, iron-clad union agreement between Atticus White and Lord Kol T. Crimson, the ancient head of the Crimson Vampire Clan and the host of tonight's extravagant birthday bash.
If this marriage alliance between their children—Luke and Chloe—actually went through, it would mean a catastrophic shift in the balance of power, uniting the vampires and the mages into an unstoppable political juggernaut. Atticus, playing the flawless politician, hadn't explicitly denied the rumors when discreetly asked by passing guests, which only fueled the frantic, whispered speculations echoing around the room.
As I was busy observing this high-stakes game of supernatural chess and praying I wouldn't become a pawn sacrificed on the board, Chloe and Stella were casually catching up next to me, entirely ignoring the political storm brewing around them.
"So, are you really with him?" Stella asked suddenly, leaning against the table. She swirled the dark red wine in her glass, her glowing purple eyes flicking toward me with naked curiosity.
"No," Chloe sighed, rubbing her temple as if the mere thought of Luke was giving her a migraine. "I just asked him to be my fake boyfriend. I was genuinely hoping that your dumb, stubborn brother would finally get the message and leave me alone. But it seems I was being vastly over-optimistic."
"I could have told you that wouldn't work," Stella snorted, taking a delicate sip of her wine. "Knowing my brother, his fragile ego can't handle rejection. If anything, seeing you with another guy is just going to make him infinitely more obsessed with you."
Stella paused, her perfectly sculpted brow furrowing as a thought crossed her mind. She looked back at Chloe. "Wait, what did he mean earlier? About having 'already gotten rid of him once'?"
"Do you remember the other night when you called to warn me that Luke was actively looking for me?" Chloe asked, her tone entirely devoid of emotion.
"Yeah, of course," Stella nodded. "He stormed out of the estate completely unhinged because he wanted to see you. I know how much you absolutely hate his pestering, so I gave you a heads-up. What actually happened? You never told me the details."
"I was with Samsara in an alleyway," Chloe explained bluntly. "When Luke arrived, Samsara and I were standing relatively close to each other because I was busy interrogating him about his supernatural nature. Luke immediately misunderstood the situation, entered a state of extreme, psychotic bloodlust, and then proceeded to thoroughly separate Samsara's head from his neck."
Stella completely froze. Her wine glass halted midway to her lips. She blinked once, twice, and then slowly turned her head to look at me, her mouth hanging slightly open in utter disbelief.
"Huh?" she eloquently eloquently breathed.
"What do you mean, killed him?!" Stella demanded, her voice dropping to a frantic, hushed whisper. "Is he not physically standing right here?! Are you telling me I'm drinking with an undead?!"
Before I could even raise my hands to defend my pulse, Stella invaded my personal space. And I mean really invaded it.
She leaned in so close that her face was mere inches from my neck, her delicate nose practically brushing against my collar. Her incredibly generous curves pressed intimately against my arm. Instantly, my brain went into full panic mode. Between the terrifying proximity of a half-demon and the deeply intoxicating, mind-scrambling fragrance of exotic flowers and dark magic radiating from her skin, I was actively fighting the urge to start sweating profusely.
She took a long, deep sniff of my neck, her glowing purple eyes widening in real-time.
"No... he's definitely not an undead," Stella muttered, pulling back slightly, though her gaze remained intensely fixed on me. "But he doesn't smell human, either. It's way more complex than that. Wow... what an incredibly unique scent."
"You noticed it too, then," Chloe agreed softly, her crimson eyes locking onto mine with a sudden, predatory intensity that made the hairs on my arms stand up. "Even his blood smells special. The first time we met, it wasn't this alluring. But now? It's completely overpowering. To be brutally honest, Samsara, if you weren't standing directly beside me, all the vampires in this room would likely try to take you for themselves."
A cold, icy dread washed over me like a bucket of freezing water.
Feeling incredibly awkward, and entirely terrified, I slowly turned my head and looked away from our table, scanning the grand ballroom. Now that Chloe had explicitly mentioned it, I suddenly noticed the terrifying reality of my situation.
Dozens of the guests—men impeccably dressed in dark, tailored suits and women in sleek black evening gowns—had entirely stopped their conversations. They were standing perfectly still, ignoring the classical music and the lavish buffet. And every single one of them was staring directly at me.
Their eyes were glowing with a hungry, luminescent crimson light in the dim ambiance of the chandeliers. They were looking at me not as a fellow guest, but as if I were a perfectly seared, Michelin-star Wagyu steak parading around on a silver platter. The sheer, concentrated bloodlust and predatory stillness of their collective stare was absolutely freaking me out.
"Hahaha, well! Let's not change the subject, shall we?" I laughed nervously, desperately trying to redirect the conversation before I became the main course. "I believe Stella was just wondering how I was still alive."
The dangerous, hungry red glow in Chloe's eyes blinked out, replaced by her usual calm, icy demeanor. She turned her attention back to her blonde friend.
"I am not entirely sure myself," Chloe admitted. "I theorize it is an innate characteristic of his specific race, but I honestly don't know which race is capable of casually coming back from a complete decapitation, except for demons, angels, or gods. And since I can't feel a chaotic, infernal vibe similar to yours coming from him, I can safely cross 'demon' off the list."
"Hmm, you're right. He definitely doesn't feel like a demon, or even a half-blood like me," Stella added thoughtfully, tapping her chin. "You can confidently cross out 'angel', too. I've personally never met those winged, self-righteous assholes, but I'm pretty sure my DNA would instantly violently react if one was standing this close to me."
"As for gods, I can't say," Chloe mused. "But it seems an entirely ridiculous thought to entertain. No one has seen or heard from a true deity on this plane in over two thousand years."
"I think so too," Stella agreed, finally leaning back and giving me some much-needed breathing room. "Anyway, now I perfectly understand why you would choose him for this insane charade despite his obvious lack of offensive strength. He literally can't die, even if your father, Atticus, or my psychotic brother tried to kill him."
Hearing these two beautiful, terrifying women casually discuss my immortality and my usefulness as an indestructible meat-shield once again forced me to confront the sheer, undeniable absurdity of my current life.
Shaking off the existential dread, I decided to pivot the conversation to something else.
"So, how exactly did you two meet?" I asked, looking between the ancient vampire heiress and the half-demon mage. "As expected, it was thanks to your parents' political connections?"
Instantly, a heavy, uncomfortable silence descended upon our table.
Chloe looked at Stella, engaging in a long, silent communication through their eyes alone. She was clearly giving her friend the absolute choice to share her history or keep it buried. After a moment, Stella let out a long, weary sigh, the bubbly facade dropping entirely.
"As you already know, I am both a demon and a mage thanks to my parents," Stella began, her voice quiet, meant only for us. "The source of my mage DNA is Atticus. My demon DNA comes from my mother. They apparently met when Atticus made a highly classified trip to Hell. The exact circumstances of their meeting, or the actual reason the supreme head of the Magic Council ventured into the infernal plane, is completely unknown to me. All I know for a fact is that I was born from that singular encounter. It was just a one-night stand for Atticus, so he was entirely unaware of my conception."
She paused, staring blankly into her wine glass. "My absolute earliest memories are of the filthy, freezing dirt alleys of this very city. I can only guess that my mother left me on this plane because she didn't want a half-blood child in Hell. How she managed to cross the veil to drop me off? I can't even hazard a guess. The veil strictly restricts beings like true demons and angels from entering our world."
I listened quietly, the familiar sting of abandonment resonating deep within my chest.
"So, I grew up as a nameless street kid," Stella continued with a bitter, nostalgic smile. "I was stealing left and right, eating out of dumpsters, just doing whatever it took to survive the winters. But as I was hitting prepubescent age, my demon blood and my latent magic began to violently awaken simultaneously. It was during that chaotic period that I met Chloe. We were both eleven years old. I actually tried to pickpocket her on the street, but she managed to catch me."
Chloe smiled softly at the memory.
"She immediately sensed my 'otherness'," Stella said, glancing fondly at the vampire. "For the very first time in my miserable life, I felt like I had met someone who understood me. Someone who was like me. She took me back with her, and we lived together in secret for six years. We became incredibly close. Like true sisters."
The warmth in Stella's voice faded, replaced by a cold resignation.
"But those peaceful days didn't last. Atticus came to the Crimson estate one day for a political meeting with Chloe's father. While he was there, his magic resonated with mine. He instantly sensed the undeniable blood connection between us. He was furious about my existence—the scandal of it—but he still took me away with him. It could never, ever be known to the wider supernatural community that the great, flawless Atticus White had sired an offspring with a demon. You should know that almost all supernaturals absolutely despise demons... well, except for the vampires. I won't go into the bloody historical details, but my mother's kind is not appreciated."
Stella took a deep breath, offering a small, sad shrug. "I've stayed at the White estate ever since. He has never publicly claimed me as his legitimate offspring. Most of the time, Luke and Atticus don't even acknowledge my physical existence in the house. So... Chloe is really my only true friend in this entire world."
Hearing her past forced a knot into my throat. It made me instantly remember my last two agonizing years struggling in the Coldstone district after my parents had overdosed. I knew the gnawing pain of starvation, the biting cold of the winter streets, and the sheer, crushing weight of absolute loneliness. I couldn't even begin to imagine surviving that specific brand of hell as a young child with chaotic, demonic magic tearing her apart from the inside.
"Anyway, it was all worth it since I got to meet Chloe," Stella suddenly declared, forcing a bright, sweet smile back onto her face, aggressively burying the sad memories.
Chloe didn't say a word, she just reached out and gently squeezed Stella's hand, smiling back with a rare, genuine warmth.
Now I fully understood why their bond seemed so incredibly unbreakable, entirely bypassing the usual toxic, backstabbing politics of high society. They had literally grown up together. They were family.
Before I could offer any words of comfort, a massive, sudden commotion erupted near the grand entrance of the ballroom. The classical music abruptly cut out, and the low hum of hundreds of conversations died in an instant.
We all turned our heads to look.
The heavy, gold-plated double doors had been thrown wide open. Walking through them, flanked by a terrifyingly imposing entourage of elite, vampire guards, was an extremely handsome man who looked no older than thirty. He exuded an aura of such staggering, ancient, and absolute dominance that the very air in the ballroom seemed to drop ten degrees the second his polished shoes touched the marble floor.
I didn't need anyone to tell me who he was. My instincts were screaming it at me. The king had arrived.