In the wide chamber, silence filled every corner like tuneless music as if the room had held its breath for years.
Even the drop of a pin might have echoed like thunder.
The Master stood alone.
His eyes hinted at sorrow, though his face remained cold.
He poured a glass of deep crimson wine the liquid flowed smoothly, like blood retracing a path it once knew.
He placed it on the table, then filled another, untouched, with the same slow care.
From the bouquet beside him, he chose a rose the finest among them.
Its petals were darker than blood, velvet-soft, flawless.
The scent was subtle, yet heavy.
Without a sound, he walked across the room.
His footsteps made no echo as though the floor itself refused to acknowledge him.
He stopped before a tall window, veiled in sheer white curtains embroidered with threads of gold.
The morning light struggled to break through.
Then a soft breeze slipped in as if it had been waiting.
It stirred the curtain gently, revealing a hidden frame behind it.
The Master's eyes locked onto it.
A portrait.
Time froze.
> "Already two years," he whispered. "So much has changed since then."
In the painting was a woman elegant, unbowed, with fire in her eyes and sorrow in her smile.
> "Even in a hundred years," he murmured, "nothing else has shaken me like this."
Below the portrait, a few small photographs had shifted into view.
The same woman.
The Master beside her.
And a tall man equal in height to him smiling with them.
The man in those photos didn't match the figure who now called himself the Cold Master.
Back then… he had seemed truly happy.
He turned away.
The moment shattered like glass.
---
Outside the room, the air shifted.
Autumn turned to winter in a single breath.
At the door, the butler bowed with perfect precision."Good morning, Master."
No reply.
Only motion.
The Master walked past, trailed by cold air like a shadow.
The butler followed, one step behind never closer, never further.
As they passed through the corridor, servants bowed in perfect rhythm graceful, silent, lifeless.
One maid's fate-thread a shimmer only he could see ,flickered weakly, nearly broken.
He gave her a small wink.
She wouldn't understand.
She wouldn't live long enough to ask.
---
The Master entered his study darker than the rest of the estate.
Candles burned low. Their flames trembled.
The room leaned inward, pulled by his presence.
"Master," the butler said, placing a file on the desk. "These are the reports you requested. The Vampire Moon Pact confirmed several vampires attempted to escape their estate. It's caused unrest in the werewolf territories."
His voice was cool and sharp.
"Have they found the leader… or is he still hiding?"
The butler hesitated just for a breath.
> "No confirmation yet, Master. But… rumors suggest the old Vampire Lord may be involved."
Silence stretched like ice.
> "So the new leader can't manage their own bloodline?" he said flatly. "If the past still governs the present… that throne is already shattered."
The candlelight dimmed. Shadows leaned in."Send them a message. If they can't control their own people… I will."
The butler swallowed hard and lowered his eyes.
---
A sharp knock.
The doors opened.
A tall woman strode in, dressed in a black three-piece suit.
No bow. No greeting.
She dropped a file on the table and sat on the velvet couch. "There've been disappearances near Darkskin Mountain, Master Ivaan," she said. "We sent a research team. Only a few returned."
Her voice was steady, but tension flickered in her eyes.
The butler poured tea and placed it before her.
The Master remained silent, watching the steam rise.
Lady Diana narrowed her gaze.
"Are you even listening? If so, speak."
Her tone cut like a blade.
He finally sipped the tea.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
Her eyes flashed.
"Ivaan… there are too many rumors surrounding Darkskin. If you won't act, then..."
The butler froze, cautiously collecting files, sensing a storm.
Lady Diana stood, her heels striking like war drums.
She left the room, fury trailing behind her.
The Master didn't look up.
"Irwyn," he said calmly, "follow up on Lady Diana's report. I want answers. Within the hour."
The butler hesitated.
A thought surfaced:Maybe I should quit. Disappear into some quiet forest… far from politics, fate threads, and fury like him.
But all he said was:"Yes, Master."
---
Outside the estate, Lady Diana walked briskly.
Her heels clicked like measured gunfire.
The rose garden still bloomed.
> "He should really replace those flowers," she muttered. "It's been two years."
She approached her dark blue royal car. Just before opening the door, a thought flickered.
"Ah… I forgot to mention. The Vampire Prince has changed."
She glanced back toward the towering estate. "But then again… he probably already knows."
Her gaze shifted to the far end of the courtyard, where five men were preparing to depart two armed with rifles, the rest with swords.
Their movements were swift, silent, practiced.
She narrowed her eyes. "Already sending an investigation team? Or has he known all along?"
A quiet sigh escaped her lips.
She entered the vehicle. The engine roared.
As the wind stirred the roses again, she thought of a woman in that same garden holding a young girl.
A single tear escaped before she wiped it away.
She murmured: "Those were really good days."