The morning after the festival was eerily quiet. The chaotic symphony of music, laughter, and sizzling food had been replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves in the Academy gardens and the distant chime of the Grand Hall clock. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I woke up not to the pressure of an impending battle, but to the soft, steady breathing of the small vampire girl curled up beside me.
Yumi had migrated to my bed sometime in the night, a tiny refugee from a bad dream, her white curls splayed across my pillow. I lay still for a moment, just watching her, a strange warmth spreading through my chest. This was my new reality. Not just shadows and schemes, but plush rabbits and whispered goodnights.
"Ashy," she mumbled in her sleep, clutching the hem of my shirt.
I couldn't help but smile. My path had been irrevocably altered, not by a legendary sword or a system quest, but by a six-year-old girl.
