Sir Draven never addressed him by name, always calling him "hey," "you," or "hybrid boy," and that posed no problem, since they were the only two in that garden. Q97 had long noticed that the vampire seemed perpetually muddled, as though he lived without purpose—almost as if he were punishing himself for something.
Q97 felt the weight of the small pouch in his pocket as he caught the lingering worry on Draven's face. Vampires were known for their indifference and cold demeanor, but Sir Draven was different. He had always been different.
Sensing the vampire's concern, Q97 clutched his shirt tightly. His heart pounded with anxiety, but he gathered the courage to speak, knowing this might be his last chance.
For a long time, he had wanted to ask something of this vampire but had never dared. Sir Draven's concern gave him hope. Q97 kept twisting the hem of his already dirty and thin lab clothes, then finally blurted out his wish—reasoning that the worst outcome would be rejection. After all, he wouldn't lose any limbs for asking, unlike with those cruel scientists.
And this might be the last time they ever saw each other...
His fingers tugged gently at the vampire's sleeve, cautious unsure tone sounded from his lips, "Sir, I… I've never had a name. I mean, a proper name. I only have...a code and serial number."
The boy smiled sadly but hopefully. "My code number is Q97. Could you… could you please give me a... real name?"
Draven fell silent, his expression slowly shifting—now filled with emotion. A flicker of sudden anger sparked in his eyes as he glanced at Rosencraft, then turned his gaze back to Q97, the weight of guilt pressing down on him. Not once had he asked the boy's name—how foolish. He really needed to start asking people their names next time. Before, he never had to; everyone always introduced themselves without him asking. Yet for someone with an immortal lifespan, seven months truly felt like just yesterday. The guilt grew heavier.
"I'm sorry. I never realized..." Draven sighed heavily, cursing his own stupidity.
The hopeful light in Q97's eyes dimmed, and his expression grew crestfallen. Draven instantly understood the misunderstanding—that his 'sorry' had been taken as rejection.
"No, no. What I mean is, a name is important. Are you sure you want me...someone like me to name you?" The vampire sounded unsure, but the boy nodded so enthusiastically that Draven worried he might twist his neck.
"Alright then, I need... a little time to think."
Draven looked up and sighed. "You're heading into human territory. A human name might make it easier for you to stay hidden, but... I don't know much about human names."
Despite that, he could see the anticipation and excitement blooming in the young vampire hybrid's eyes. A glimmer of hope softened the boy's usually somber expression, giving it an unexpectedly delicate and endearing charm. So gentle, so precious—just like the moon Draven had seen before entering this cave.
"It's okay. You can give me any name. Just... something that might suit me."
Confusion still clouded Draven's face as he studied the boy intently, glancing around as if searching for inspiration. A fitting name for this hybrid child with such striking features eluded him.
Memories of their first meeting surfaced silently. That night seven months ago, Q97 had appeared out of nowhere, carrying the lifeless body of his twin while sobbing uncontrollably. His blood had stained the last traces of green among the blooming red roses—everything was red.
Under the full moon, with the scent of roses and his fragrant blood hanging in the air, Q97's pale form had seemed like an ethereal vision. Trapped within the thorny rose bushes, surrounded by crimson-tipped leaves in full bloom, he had looked like a masterpiece sculpted by a renowned artisan. His empty gaze and resigned expression had stirred something deep within Draven's long-frozen heart.
He would have looked even more stunning in red. It was as if the boy had fallen from the moon itself—bleeding, fragile, and caught among the blooming roses. A mere being like him couldn't possibly forget such a sight.
"Sylene." Draven gently ran a hand through Q97's damp, soft hair. The boy tilted his head in confusion.
"The night we met… and tonight… both were illuminated by a full moon," Draven explained.
"Sylene means the moon. Do you… like it?" Draven scratched his cheek hesitantly, second-guessing his choice, though he couldn't shake the feeling that this luminous name suited the boy perfectly. With silver hair, a gentle presence, and hidden strength, he wasn't an ordinary hybrid—Draven truly believed the moon suited him.
Draven waited, but received no response for a while. The boy was silent—too silent. Sir Draven looked down at his face, trying to read his expression.
Those yellow-green eyes glistened, faintly wet with unshed tears. At nearly fifteen, Q97 finally had a name.
A name given by his favorite vampire—and it felt like the most precious gift in the world.
"Sylene… It sounds too grand for someone like me, but I love it."
No. Actually I really, really like it.
His heart raced, and warmth spread through his body, an indescribable joy filling him. Q97—no, Sylene—had never felt anything like this before. A name was something a lowborn vampire hybrid like him never dare to dream of. This time, even if the ice-sculpted rose melted in the morning and there was no replacement, he wouldn't be too sad, because now he had a precious keepsake to remember Sir Draven.
His name. Sylene.
From now on, every time my name is mentioned, I will remember you.
Powered by his excitement and thrumming heartbeat, Sylene couldn't help but want to get closer to the vampire. Without thinking, driven by pure instinct and immense gratitude, a soft, feather-like touch brushed the vampire's cheek. Accidentally. Unintentionally. Just pure happiness.
There was no thought, only raw emotion, but both of them froze as they registered what had just happened. The vampire was unable to respond, but he noticed how Sylene's pale cheeks turned bright red—wait, his ears too. Oh, and his neck.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Sylene flailed in panic, accidentally dropping the coin pouch. It made a slight sound, muffled by the red veil, but still managed to draw the attention of one of the scientists with super hearing.
"I thought I heard something—"
"Hey! We found something near the barn! Other team, follow me!" one of the scientists from another group—who had been searching a different area—called out from the entrance.
But a sudden, loud flap of wings silenced them all. Out of nowhere—or perhaps by sheer luck—a winter bird, a black jackdaw, burst forth not far from where Sylene and Draven were hiding. It flew swiftly toward the cave entrance and disappeared into the winter night. The abrupt movement startled not only the vampires and Rosencraft's team—but also Sylene and Draven.
It didn't take long for one of the scientists to sneer at the only young woman in their group.
"So, Bird Nose? Or Birdy chirp?"
The girl and the scientist with super-hearing glared hatefully at the mocking tone, but Rosencraft sighed, clearly uninterested in petty confrontations among his subordinates. He waved a hand toward the cave entrance. "Leave some of the soldiers here until we find Q97. The rest, follow me."
His party moved systematically, and in no time, they reached the exit.
"Guard all exits, all trains, all automobiles leaving vampire territory. Remember, we are dealing with a living being that is almost perfect," Rosencraft instructed the soldiers guarding the cave before stepping out into the snow. "Although he is only a prototype, he is the latest series I handcrafted myself. 'It' can be considered a monster at this stage."
They left as swiftly as they had come. Sylene clamped a hand over his mouth, trembling in fear as the scientists moved nearby. Draven could feel the boy's panic and tried to soothe him, but the moment passed quickly—the trembling stopped as soon as the vampires were gone.
A sharp, unfamiliar emotion stirred within Draven—he couldn't stand by and watch any longer. Something had to be done about those damned nobles.
A small sigh escaped from the boy, accompanied by the sound of his racing heartbeat, which gradually began to slow. Sir Draven noticed and gently rubbed his back to help calm him down.
But remembering what he had just done to Sir Draven made Sylene feel like his heart might burst out of his chest—though that was impossible. The scientists had replaced the ribcages of all Series 40 and above experiments with metal-like structures.
Thankfully, Sir Draven didn't mention anything about him suddenly kissing his cheek after receiving his name. He was lucky. He didn't even know why he'd done something so foolish.
What had happened to him?
But he quickly shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the plan at hand.
The sound of a train filled with black coal would pass soon. Sylene could feel it from the light shaking of the ground. Normal vampires couldn't feel it yet, but he could. After the coal train, another train would pass, bringing several hybrids produced in vampire territory. The train was extremely fast; he had to move quickly. The boy was reluctant to leave, but he must. Tiny fingers kept grasping the vampire's sleeve tightly before letting go.
"We don't have much time, do we?" Sir Draven's deep voice sounded gloomier than usual. But vampires weren't emotional creatures, so Sylene told himself it was probably just his imagination. The vampire gently ruffled his hair.
"Be safe out there. You're one of the good ones. If anyone calls you a monster… they're the real monster."
The young hybrid understood the weight behind Sir Draven's words—how they subtly echoed Rosencraft's cruel accusations.
"And you're perfect just the way you are."
The boy's almost-vanished blush returned in full force. He bit his pale lips, his best friend's words pressing heavily against his heart.
"Are you sure you won't go with me?" A tear threatened to escape his glassy eyes as Sylene rubbed his nose, long since reddened from the cold.
A small sigh escaped the vampire. He didn't know when the hybrid had grown so dear to him. They say vampires have cold blood, but his was never entirely cold—especially when faced with the sorrowful look of a certain young hybrid.