The next day I woke up a little earlier than usual...
I couldn't sleep with all these new thoughts in my head. Lukas is starting to be nicer to me all of a sudden ever since we got into an argument and made up for it. Then there's Dracarus and his fishy behavior; I can never figure that guy out. Does he see me as an ally, an enemy, or a tool he can use and manipulate... and honestly, him training me how to defend myself doesn't make me feel any better about that.
Because my room felt like a cage, and I was the bird that had just been told to "rest" while the hunters decided which of my feathers to pluck next.
And as I said before, Lukas was sweet, really... he was the only one who didn't look at me like a piece of meat or a broken vase. To be claimed, he was still a guard, Dracaru's pet, no less. He followed his orders like a master and dog. And right now, that puppy was supposed to be my new friend here tho now im not sure if its in my best decision to trust him.
I sat up on the edge of the bed, the silk sheets feeling like a mockery against my injured skin. My legs were shaking from being unwell, a dull ache pulsing in my shins, but the adrenaline was starting to override the pain. I grabbed my boots, the leather worn and familiar, and laced them up with trembling fingers. I wasn't going to be the girl in the "bruised midnight sky" gown tonight. Not yet.
I stood up, testing the weight of it all as my reflection in the golden mirror looked back at me... a wildcat with messy hair and eyes that burned with a fever that wasn't from any sickness but my lack of shyness. I looked at the door. The guards outside would be coming any time soon on key . like robots who had to be there on the specific dot or else.... i dont even want to know just thinking about what that freaky vampire prince would do to his victims yikes. Still, it did impress me how these guards never miss a patrol, are always neat and properly groomed, not to mention being on time, but that just gives me an advantage to slip out for a little, so I waited for them to walk past my room door on their rounds, and as luck would have it, after twenty minutes later, the heavy thud of their boots would fade as they rounded the corner toward the East Wing.
I waited.
One minute...
five minutes... ten.
Then, the sound of retreating footsteps.
"Finally."
I slipped out of the room, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I thought it might actually burst through the back. The hallway was freezing, the kind of cold that didn't just touch your skin but seeped into your marrow. It smelled like him. Dracarus. That expensive cologne mixed with the scent of an approaching blizzard. It was a trail I could follow in my sleep.
I stayed low, my back pressing against the cold stone walls. Every flickering candle seemed like a spotlight, every shadow a potential guard. I reached the West Wing, the air turning even thinner. This was where the "important" vampires hung out... the ones who probably thought my scars were a fun conversation starter. I shrugged, ignoring the keep-out sign on the door in bold as I slipped through the room it was massive, like a very big library, and it's funny, really; in my past life, I was so worried about what people thought about me i tried even finding love, hoping itd solve the issue, but sadly it didn't. I got betrayed because of how I looked. Now, I'm just worried about not being eaten alive by a prince who treats me like a training dummy. Instead of a guest, I kept moving, my breath hitching as I passed a massive portrait of the king. His eyes seemed to follow me, a cold, predatory gaze that made my skin crawl.
I turned in the section of the room, and there it was. The obsidian door.
There were no guards. That was the first thing that made me stiffen. Its tall stature reminded me of that prude. But why did he leave this unguarded?? Dracarus was many things, but he wasn't careless. If there were no guards, it meant the room was either empty or so dangerous that no one dared to enter. I took a deep breath, the metallic scent of blood and old ink filling my lungs.
"I'm going to do something stupid... I can feel it."
I pushed the door open. It did not make a sound—that was the first time I'd seen a door in this palace not creak—and I stepped into the dim blue light of the study.
Maps were sprawled across the table, pinned down by daggers made of ivory and bone. The prince's desk was organized with a terrifying, calculated precision. I walked over, my bedshoes silent on the plush rug, my eyes scanning the shelves while running my hands along the surface. I was looking for a reason, a sign, anything that explained why I was here in this nightmare.
And then I saw it.
A thick book wrapped in chains bound in dark leather with gold covers that seemed to catch the eerie light.
"The Kill Project" is the first title I saw on the book's cover, but I didn't drop it. No... I took the book and slowly opened it, curious about the contents inside.
My fingers brushed the cover, the leather feeling cold, almost like skin. My breath hitched. Was this why he gave me lessons? Was this why he pinched my cheek like I was some kind of interesting pet? I opened the first page, my eyes darting across the elegant, sharp handwriting that could only belong to him.
Subject: Different methods to eliminate the head who holds high power and sacrifice blood for blood, sin for sin.
The word "sacrifice" felt like a physical blow to my chest. I leaned back against the desk, the room spinning for a fraction of a second. I wasn't his student. I wasn't his "threat" to the council. I was a lamb being fattened up for the slaughter... and Dracarus was the one holding the knife and was now giving me that power to do something unthinkable. I must know more about what this means; this book... has to have a lot more info.
"So that's the game, Dracarus?" I whispered to the dark room. "You want to use me for your own personal benefit and then throw me away like a used tool?"
I didn't hear him at first. I only felt the sudden drop in temperature. The shadows in the far corner of the room, near the heavy velvet curtains, began to shift and coil like smoke.
"I told you the court was talking, Hina," his voice came from the darkness, smooth and sharp like a blade. "But I didn't tell you they were right to call you a liability." His eyes softened.
I stiffened, my hand still resting on the book's open page. I didn't turn around. I didn't want him to see the way my eyes were stinging or the way my legs were finally giving out from the sheer weight of how his words affected me. It's funny, really... Just a few days ago he was so cold to me, and now he's starting to get nicer. Now why? I don't know
"And are humans so sneaky?..." he muttered, stepping into the light. "Especially one that thinks she can sneak into my private study and get away scot-free?"
I slowly turned to face him, the wildcat in me baring its teeth. He looked at me with that same dark, unreadable gaze once more, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked perfect. He looked cold and even a little cute. He looked nothing like the monster everyone dictates him to be.
"Is this what you do with your time?" I asked, my voice surprisingly steady despite the roaring in my ears. "You write down how you're going to kill me while you're teaching me how to defend myself? Is that part of the joke, Drac?"
He didn't answer. He just walked toward me, his presence suffocating the very air in the room. He stopped only inches away, his scent overwhelming my senses. He reached out, his fingers grazing the ledger before closing it with a finality that made me jump.
"You were never supposed to see this," he said, his voice a low rumble. "And now that you have... I have a very difficult decision to make."
I laughed—a cold, jagged sound that echoed off the obsidian walls. "A decision? You mean whether to kill me tonight or wait for the gala tomorrow? Don't worry, Prince. I'll make it easy for you."
I grabbed one of the bone daggers from the table, the weight of it heavy and cold in my palm. I didn't point it at him. I pointed it at my own reflection in the mirror across the room.
"If I'm just going to be used as a sacrifice or scapegoat, I'm going to be the most expensive one you've ever had to pay for," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Because I'm not going to play your game anymore."
The tension in the room was so thick I could practically taste it... a metallic tang of copper and fear. Dracarus didn't move. He didn't even blink. He just stared at me, his eyes searching mine for a sign of weakness he could exploit.
"You're a cheeky brat, Hina," he said, a slow, dark smile spreading across his face. "But you're the only tool I have that actually knows how to strike back. Put the knife down."
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't just end it all here," i challenged, my fingers tightening on the hilt.
He stepped even closer, his chest almost touching mine. "Because if you walk out now, you'll never find out who actually transmigrated you here—or why my father is so afraid of a soft, fleshy person like you."
My heart stopped. My fingers loosened on the dagger, the bone hilt slipping against my palm. He knew? He knew about my past life?
"You... you know?" I whispered, my voice breaking for the first time.
"I know everything, Wildcat," he said, his eyes glowing with a faint, eerie light. "And if you want to stay alive long enough to get such information, then i suggest you put all your trust in me, whether you like or hate me
I looked at him, the silence of the room pressing in on me like a physical weight. I was tired, I was bruised, and I was broken... but as I looked into the eyes of the prince, I realized the game had only just begun.