It was pitch black.
All I could hear were shouts and cries.
What's going on…?
"Everie… Everie…!" A soft female voice echoed in the distance, like it was underwater.
"Snap out of it, child."
What is she talking about…?
Then everything shattered.
A sinister laugh rang out—sharp, familiar.
Screams. Chaos. Fire.
And at the center of it all… a man with golden hair, standing calmly with a sword in his hand.
"Wake up, Eve," he said.
—
I jolted awake, gasping.
That nightmare again.
What does it mean? Why does it all feel so familiar?
Who was that man?
Still dazed, I dragged myself to the bathroom and splashed cold water over my face.
In the mirror, I saw my reflection: tangled black hair... and my right eye.
The one I could never stand to look at.
A dragon's blessing.
Or, at least, that's what they used to call it.
A mythical creature—long gone from this world—once walked among us, bestowing divine power to mortals. Fire that coursed through your veins. Strength no man could wield without breaking.
But over time, people stopped calling it a gift.
They called it a curse.
A threat.
There's an old tale. A king, blessed by the dragon, burned his own kingdom to the ground. Himself included.
Just a story, maybe.
Because me?
I don't have any power.
Not even a flicker.
I used to hope I was just a late bloomer. But now... I've stopped hoping.
Maybe that's for the best.
—
"Everie!" someone shouted from outside.
"We're not waiting all day!"
I sighed. Pulled on my robe. Covered my cursed eye with the usual eyepatch.
I work at a tavern—not by choice. It's the only roof over my head.
The owner gave me food, a bed. That's more than I had before.
So I endure.
—
The tavern was already loud when I walked in.
The owner—a rough man in his 40s—clapped a heavy hand on my back.
"Stop slacking off, will ya? I've got customers lining up just to see your face."
"I'm just a bartender…" I muttered.
Plap.
His hand cracked across my cheek.
"Don't talk back."
He leaned in, voice low and venomous.
"Remember who dragged you out of the slums. Don't act all high and mighty just 'cause I spoil you a little."
I froze. Swallowed hard.
There he goes again…
"Now get to work. Or I'll sell you off to those rich bastards who'd pay for a pretty servant."
He walked off like nothing happened.
I steadied myself with a deep breath.
He wasn't bluffing.
Last time I had a fever and missed a shift, he left me out in the snow for hours.
I nearly froze to death.
Sometimes, I wonder if that would've been easier.
But I don't have the strength to run.
This is all I have.
So I tied on my apron and got to work.
Silently. Obediently.
—
"Have you heard about the Black Hood?" a drunk muttered into his mug.
"That psycho?" someone scoffed. "Who hasn't? Burned down a whole house just 'cause someone stole his stuff."
"They say he's been spotted near this district…" another whispered. "Better not walk alone at night. I don't wanna be roasted alive."
Their gossip echoed through the tavern like smoke.
I kept my head down and wiped the counter.
—
Later, I cleaned up and threw on my robe.
Just as I reached the door, the tavern owner's voice stopped me.
"Hey, Eve. Watch yourself out there. That Black Hood freak might be lurking."
I paused.
Why is he suddenly warning me...?
"Thanks—"
"Can't have my moneymaker dying in a ditch, you hear me?"
I bit down the words that rose up and forced a dry smile.
Of course. That's all I am to him.
"Yeah… I get it."
The air outside was cold and still.
As I walked down the empty street, flashes of the nightmare surged back—
Flames. Screams.
That golden-haired man.
I stumbled, gripping my head.
Not again...
"This won't do... I need to see Flora."
Flora Rubert.
One of the last remaining psychics in the world.
They say she can read the future… maybe even the past.
If anyone can explain these dreams, it's her.
But just as I took a step forward—
The headache exploded.
Pain stabbed through my skull. My legs gave out, and I collapsed into a nearby alley.
"Urgh—"
I groaned, trying to crawl upright.
Then I heard it.
Soft gasps. Muffled crying.
I looked up—
A pale man knelt in the shadows, messy white hair falling over his face.
Blood trickled from his mouth.
He was feeding.
On a woman too weak to scream.
His red eyes locked with mine.
Not the Black Hood… A vampire?!
I stumbled back, heart hammering.
But my body was too slow.
The headache blurred everything.
And then—
He dropped the woman gently to the ground.
Stood up.
Stared at me.
And said,
"Master?!"
My blood went cold.
…What did he just say?