For three days, Sylene observed human behavior, studying their daily lives and interactions. Ears perched on gossip, he watched how they spoke with ease, how their expressions openly mirrored their emotions. Unlike vampires, who often masked their true feelings, humans were refreshingly straightforward.
The serving lady at the inn was a prime example. Whenever she greeted Sylene, her eyes gleamed with genuine warmth. Their emotions were simple to read, as if their thoughts and faces were always in sync. Hybrids, on the other hand, were a bit harder to decipher—but even they were easier to read than pure-blood vampires.
As always, Sylene ate with enthusiasm. He had quickly grown fond of the inn's meals.
At some point during dinner, the cook's wife approached his table, leading a large, bear-like man toward him.
Sylene heard him before he saw him—heavy footsteps, the faint creak of muscle stretching under thick arms. The man's voice, when he spoke, was deep and rough, like a blade scraping against stone.
"This the boy?" the man asked.
Sylene tensed, every instinct on high alert. The man was massive—even bigger than Bryent, the mercenary. The sheer weight of his presence was enough to put him on edge. If he attacked, Sylene would have to react instantly.
A large palm hovered above his head, making him flinch. He braced for impact. He couldn't afford to cause a scene in a human establishment—not when the vampire fleet was so close.
But instead of striking, the hand landed gently on his head, ruffling his hair.
Sylene blinked up at him, startled.
The man let out a hearty laugh. "Hahaha! Good boy. Been a while since I've seen someone eat my cooking like that." His voice was full of genuine amusement. "Which dish did you like the most? Where are you from, kid?"
Sylene remained cautious. Lying too much was dangerous, so he settled for something safe. "I'm from Regina," he said, recalling Miranda's stories. "Their teas are still the best."
The cook's wife immediately smacked her husband's back, it made Sylene flinch in shock, "See?! I told you Regina's teas are top-notch! I said we should order from there, but you refused!"
"But our specialty is food, not tea!" the man grumbled. "And the shipping costs to this border town—"
"You only care about food! I also care about the drinks and snacks! We could offer more options, but you're as stubborn as a mule!"
Their argument escalated, drawing laughter from the customers. Some even joined in, throwing in their own opinions and taking sides in the debate. The tavern filled with noise, voices overlapping in a lively commotion.
Sylene was… puzzled.
They were clearly arguing, yet the atmosphere remained warm and inviting. Safe.
It was nothing like the quiet, sterile laboratory. Where the scientists had always spoken in soft, measured tones, but beneath their calm words had lurked something sinister—something cold and dangerous that could bleed you to death.
Here, in the midst of this loud, chaotic banter, there was no malice. Only life.
Without meaning to, Sylene found himself laughing, too.
Later that night, he received a free bowl of cream mushroom soup from the cook—a small gift for enjoying the food so much. He accepted it gratefully, letting its warmth seep into him. Somehow the tiny portion of soup made him feel fuller than usual.
It reminded him of how he had felt when Sir Draven carved ice sculptures for him.
A man sitting nearby smiled at Sylene. "He looks happy," he mused.
Another customer, who had been there the previous night, leaned in. "His daughter was taken into the military as a cook. He used to be a soldier before he retired. Ever since she left, he's been in a slump."
Sylene glanced toward the kitchen, watching the man disappear behind the doors. The regulars here all seemed to know one another, and care about one another.
That night, as he lay in bed, he stared at the ceiling before turning his gaze to the winter sky outside his window.
Humans… they need jobs, similar like those bloodsucking creatures. They work to earn money. Some even leave their families behind, like the cook's daughter.
He had never thought about it before. He had always assumed that loneliness belonged only to the ones who left.
But now, he understood.
When someone left, the people they left behind grieved, too.
Just like how, when Q96 left him, he had felt that same aching emptiness in his chest.
When you care for each other, it goes both ways.
Sylene pulled the leather pouch from his belt, weighing the gold coins in his palm. It was still heavy, but not forever. If he didn't find a way to earn money soon, it would run dry. The first thing he needed to do in this unfamiliar territory was secure a job—something that didn't require identification. He couldn't keep relying on the coins from Sir Draven's pouch.
Then he opened his food-preserving pouch from Miranda. His fingers brushed against something cold.
Reaching into his bag, Sylene carefully pulled out the ice rose that had been left on the windowsill while he was gone. It had been buried in the snow to preserve it. When he arrived, he placed the rose inside his food pouch, noticing it was intact even in the pouch when he eat downstairs. Holding it close to his chest, the young hybrid let out a quiet sigh, fingers gently gripping the delicate sculpture as his mind drifted elsewhere.
Was Sir Draven lonely after he left? Was he sad?
Sylene hoped Rosencraft hadn't discovered the vampire's role in the escape. He wished Sir Draven could continue tending the rose garden without a care, just as before they met.
A nervous shake of the head broke the thought. Why think like this? Why would Sir Draven feel lonely without him? It seemed unlikely. The vampire had always been alone in that place. In truth, Sylene had feared that his presence had disturbed the stillness of that garden.
The roses had each other, blooming in quiet companionship. But Sir Draven—he was the only vampire there.
Sylene had never seen him smile in that garden.
I hope he's happy…