Under the dim glow of the midnight lights, Emily stood behind the bar, carefully counting the day's earnings. Her fingers moved quickly over the bills, her expression focused, but the excitement in her eyes was impossible to hide. Over the past few days, ever since the biker gang had disappeared, business had picked up dramatically. More customers came in each night, and the steady rise in revenue brought her closer and closer to the goal she had been quietly chasing.
The soft clinking of glass echoed as Locke shut the bar door and locked it securely. He turned, leaning casually against the frame, watching the girl who quickly pulled her hands over the money as if she'd been caught doing something embarrassing.
"Counting again?" he asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Emily puffed her cheeks slightly. "It's not just counting money. It's working toward a dream."
"Oh?" Locke straightened a little, interest flickering in his eyes. "And what's the dream?"
She hesitated for a second, then her cheeks turned faintly pink as she answered. "Locke, you're still young. Don't you want to go to school?"
"School?" he repeated.
"College," she corrected immediately, her eyes widening slightly as she emphasized the word. "Going to college."
Locke tilted his head, letting the thought linger for a moment before chuckling softly. Before he could respond further, Emily's expression shifted again, turning serious as she pointed a finger at him.
"And what about you? Why are you coming back so late these days?" she demanded. "Let me remind you—you have a proper job now. No more fighting people outside, even if you think you're helping."
Her tone carried a strangely authoritative edge, like a younger sibling trying to act like an adult. The change came so quickly it was almost amusing.
Locke raised his hands slightly in surrender, smiling. "Relax. You won't hear about me getting into trouble anymore."
"Good," she said, though her expression softened almost immediately. She turned back to the money, her attention snapping back to her task with impressive focus.
Watching her, Locke felt something faint tug at him.
She should have been in school right now, worrying about classes, exams, and everything that came with being a student. Instead, she was here, running a bar, managing finances, and carrying a workload most adults would struggle with. The absence of her father had forced her into a life she hadn't chosen, and somehow she had adapted to it without breaking.
At least now, things were a little easier.
"Locke," Emily suddenly said, lifting her head again. Her voice came out fast, almost rushed. "Don't worry. Since you're working for me now, I'll make sure you get your share too."
Before he could reply, she hopped off her stool and rushed upstairs, her steps quick and light. As she turned, the faint red tint along the edge of her ear caught the light for just a second before she disappeared from view.
Locke stood there for a moment, warmth settling quietly in his chest.
His gaze shifted toward the window, where pale moonlight slanted into the bar, casting long, soft shadows across the floor. His eyes grew distant, the calm exterior masking the shift in his thoughts.
A new goal had taken shape.
Upstairs, his room was small but complete, with everything he needed. The space was simple, clean, and quiet. Locke lay back against the bed, staring at the ceiling as he listened.
Through the thin wall, he could hear Emily.
Her breathing was steady, slow, and even, her heartbeat soft but distinct under his heightened senses. Even separated by a room, the rhythm carried clearly to him, calm and undisturbed.
She fell asleep fast.
Locke couldn't help feeling a trace of envy. Sleep didn't come easily to him anymore. Ever since absorbing the Blood Ancestor's power, his body felt constantly energized, almost too alive. Nights stretched long, and more often than not, he had to lie there counting endlessly before his mind would finally quiet down enough to rest.
It was a strange balance—powerful, but inconvenient.
Time slipped by quietly.
Morning came with sunlight pushing through the curtains, filling the room with warmth. A breeze stirred the fabric, letting light spill across Locke's face. His eyes opened slowly, then sharpened instantly as he turned his head toward the clock beside him.
"…!"
He shot upright.
In the next instant, he was moving. Clothes changed, door opened, footsteps rushed. By the time he reached the stairs, the noise from below had already reached him.
The bar was busy.
Even in broad daylight, customers had filled the place, voices overlapping in a familiar, chaotic rhythm. Locke was already used to it. In this part of Gotham, people drank whenever they felt like it—morning, afternoon, or night.
"Hey, Locke, the sun finally wake you up?" someone shouted.
"Skipped work today, huh?"
"Locke! Two more barrels over here!"
The calls came from all directions as he stepped into the room. Without missing a beat, he moved toward the bar, where Emily was already juggling glasses and orders with practiced speed.
"Emily," he said, grabbing a tray mid-motion, "why didn't you wake me up?"
"I wanted you to sleep more," she replied with a light laugh. "You work hard every day, and I haven't even given you a day off yet."
"Emily, you're too good of a boss," Dam chimed in from his seat, his tone thick with exaggerated envy.
Locke didn't answer. He simply moved.
Back and forth, table to table, glass to glass, his movements smooth and efficient. Within minutes, orders were delivered, tables were cleared, and the pace of the bar settled into a rhythm again.
When things slowed slightly, he returned to Dam's side.
"Thanks," Locke said.
Dam blinked. "What for? I'm your best friend, remember?"
Before Locke could respond, Emily slid a full glass of beer onto the counter in front of Dam.
"This one's on me," she said.
Dam lit up instantly. "Now that's what I like to hear!"
He took a big gulp—then immediately choked, coughing violently as the drink went down wrong. Locke reached over and patted his back, shaking his head slightly.
As Emily turned away to organize the shelves again, Dam leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"Locke, you hear about what happened last night?" he asked.
Locke's expression didn't change. "What about it?"
"Three people dead on the next street over," Dam said. "My friend at the station says the method matches the biker gang incident. Same kind of damage. Crushed chest or neck snapped clean. Whoever did it—brutal."
"Yeah," Locke replied calmly. "Sounds brutal."
Dam narrowed his eyes slightly, studying him.
Before he could say anything else, Emily called out again. "Locke! Orders!"
"Coming."
Locke moved away immediately, leaving Dam staring after him with a thoughtful expression.
"…Too much of a coincidence," Dam muttered under his breath.
By noon, the bar had quieted down.
Sunlight poured through the windows, illuminating the room in a soft glow. Outside, the brightness reflected off patches of lingering snow, casting light back into the street.
Inside, Locke lounged on the sofa, one leg propped casually on the edge, basking in the rare moment of peace. This was the only real downtime of the day. By three in the afternoon, the crowd would return, and the cycle would start all over again.
With a thought, a translucent interface appeared in front of him.
His gaze sharpened.
The familiar dimensional panel had changed. Beside the vampire world's cover, a new image had appeared.
A dark-skinned man stood with his back turned, drawing a sword from behind him. The atmosphere surrounding the image was cold, heavy, and filled with quiet menace.
"Blade…"
Locke murmured the name under his breath.
A faint flicker passed through his eyes as memories of that world surfaced. The connections, the implications—it all aligned too easily.
"Guess I'm not done with vampires yet."
A spark of excitement rose in his chest.
"Hey!"
A face suddenly popped into view right in front of him.
Emily leaned in close, her expression bright with mischief. The sunlight caught her features, giving her an almost glowing presence.
Locke's heart skipped.
"Huh? Not even a reaction?" she said, pulling back slightly with a pout. "That didn't scare you at all."
His pupils tightened for a fraction of a second before returning to normal. The dimensional interface vanished instantly as if it had never existed.
He looked at her.
then he smiled.
....
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