The first time he met his favorite vampire was when Q97 escaped from the scientists, carrying the body of his twin sister, Q96, who was about to be discarded onto the trash heap after her genetic code had been extracted.
The feeling of her body—cold, stiff, and shriveled—still lingered in his dreams. At that time, Q97 kept running through corridor after corridor, always moving whenever he didn't smell blood or notice the roads were cleaner than usual. He didn't stop, even when his legs were sore.
Until his nose picked up something peculiar that made him stop. It was unfamiliar; the young hybrid had never smelled this scent before. But when he arrived, he knew what those flowers in the bushes were called—roses.
One of the books had shown a picture of roses, and they looked exactly like this.
Paying no heed, he hid in the rose garden. In his haste, the boy accidentally got caught in the rose bushes filled with thorns and was unable to free himself for hours. His body bled until he was near death, and the gardener, Sir Draven, came to his rescue.
After saving him, the vampire also dug a hidden part of the rose garden to lay Q96's body to rest. The fact that Q96 was really gone sank in then.
Having lost his twin sister, Q97 didn't care if he died right then and there. All his life, he had endured each day like endless pain—it had been hard even with her nearby, and now he was completely alone.
Every time he screamed, the scientists laughed all the more, their delight making the experiments even crueler. After each session, he could only lie on his bed, limbs lifeless, locked in a dark underground room, isolated. He had only been able to endure those harsh days with Q96 by his side.
By morning, his wounds would heal, and each day would restart as if nothing had changed. The sessions repeated endlessly. Life felt torturous for Q97, and without his sister, it would be even more unbearable—so why keep going?
But then, a simple, crude, strangely shaped carving was suddenly handed to him. The shape was so mind-blowingly weird that all his thoughts stopped, just for a moment.
"???"
The gardener crouched down silently with him in front of Q96's resting place, and, looking at the sculpture in his hands, Q97 couldn't help but laugh. Its shape was oddly funny—the vampire called it a bird, but what kind of bird had eight legs? He knew the vampire didn't mean to offend; maybe… maybe his ice carving skills were just that bad.
Yet, strangely, he felt the eight-legged bird resembled him.
Not a vampire, not a human, not a specific breed with a name—he was a little bit of everything, yet never fit anywhere. Maybe he was like this sculpture, a monster bird, just a misfit who didn't belong.
From that day on, Q97 eagerly awaited each new sculpture the vampire would bring him. Somehow, that kept him going, despite the harsh sessions with the scientists. Eventually, days passed—until nearly seven months had slipped by.
Seven full moons since he met Sir Draven.
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Sir Draven is his first living friend in vampire castle.
His feet eagerly carried him toward the source of the familiar smell. Whenever he returned to the rose garden, he would visit Q96's grave, though slowly, his reasons for going began to change—to see Q96 and...and to look for Sir Draven.
He noticed his eyes trailing after Sir Draven's movements in the garden a tad bit longer than normal, and that somehow made him feel guilty...
The vampire looked so fit, lean, and tall, with broad shoulders and slightly long reddish-brown hair—always kept in messy buns—that often got caught in the rose bushes. It became a favorite sight for Q97 in the vampire palace. Whenever he saw the vampire, all his anxiousness started to fade, and the boy could finally breathe easier in that garden.
The constant clipping sound of garden scissors and the rustling of bushes continued nonstop, pausing only when the vampire handed him a sculpture—then resuming again. Q97 never understood why Sir Draven kept pruning the endless rose thorns in the garden, but whatever his only vampire friend did, Q97 found it fascinating. After all, Sir Draven was his hero—the only vampire who ever helped him without looking at who he was.
In his eyes, he felt like a real living being—not an object, the way the scientists always saw him.
Only in this garden could he be like any normal hybrid.
Sir Draven would have Q97 sit on the garden bench and watch him work. The vampire's pale, gaunt face, marked by a tired and lifeless expression, often made Q97 wonder what had happened to him—he wanted to help his savior, to ease his burden or simply be present. But whenever his small footsteps stopped near the bushes, the vampire would gently push him away, as the young hybrid always tried to assist.
Sir Draven never allowed Q97 to handle the sharp thorns—perhaps out of pity for his young age, or because of the lingering bruises still visible on his body. It didn't happen often, thanks to his remarkable healing ability, but signs of minor mistreatment still surfaced from time to time.
Most of the time, though, the boy showed up clean and without wounds or bruises, looking like an ordinary son of one of the maids or palace workers in the vampire castle—who also bore occasional bruises from their work. Those quiet moments in the secluded rose garden were the most peaceful times Q97 had ever known in his fourteen years there. They were also the happiest.
Fourteen years ago, the cries of rare vampire-hybrid twins echoed from the abandoned castle's basement, born from the womb of a criminal vampire noble and rare hybrid creature kept by the scientists. The status of both parents made Q97's position lower than low.
He had no rights as either a proper vampire or an ordinary creature; being the offspring of a criminal noble and a pet hybrid, the researchers, the vampires, even the maids had been cruel to him since he was young.
Q97 closed his eyes, feeling the vibration in the ground—it was ten minutes away. He could faintly smell smoke and the stench of train fuel. Rosencraft's masterpieces' senses were always sharper than those of typical vampires—and even more acute than the average human's. It reminded him of the eight-legged bird—the first sculpture Sir Draven had given him. A strange creature.
He was stronger than most vampire hybrids and even a pureblood vampire, but he still couldn't win if faced with a pack of purebloods.
The young hybrid carefully approached the railway barrier, planning to leap and cling onto one of the train's cabins. Q97 began to move, but suddenly, his sharp instincts caused his gaze to lock onto a group of vampire soldiers standing at the entrance to the underground cave.
Instantly, a cold chill spread through his limbs. Muscles locked in place, and breath caught forcefully in his throat.
"Search here! The footprints stop around this area!" one of the soldiers ordered. "Don't forget the other locations!"
Another pointed to the corner where he was hiding. "Lady Tier smelled something over there!"
For a moment, Q97 didn't dare move or even breathe. Then, a sudden realization struck his gut with panic—his scent! It had to be masked.
Quickly, the boy rolled thoroughly onto the damp ground, his clothes soaking up the melting snow. Shivers ran through his small body from the cold, but it was nothing compared to the brutal experiments inflicted by the scientists. He tried to slow his heartbeat and calm down, as some decoys had been left at other locations; if everything went as planned, his escape could go smoothly. He just needed to stay quiet until they passed.
From where he was hiding, the boy recognized a familiar vampire. Memories surfaced of a scientist with an unusually sharp sense of smell—much like Experiment Q87, as detailed in the project records. That was Lady Tier, one of the vampire scientists. A beautiful young vampire devoted to Rosencraft's "artwork." She looked like a teenager—around his age. so the other scientists didn't take her words too seriously—but she was just as ruthless as her coworkers.
"Find him! We cannot lose this prototype again!"