Ethan Yan listened in silence to Dawn Xiang's muffled, tear-choked sobs. The air itself seemed heavy with the broken sound.
A pause stretched on, feeling like an eternity, before he finally spoke: "You can leave."
Dawn continued to weep softly in the aftermath of his terror. Only when Ethan's utterly toneless voice cut through the air again did he jolt like a startled rabbit, the weeping abruptly ceasing with a distinct, hiccuping sob. Sniffling, he lifted tear-drenched eyes, staring at Ethan with an expression of stunned disbelief, as if he'd just received a divine pardon.
Ethan's brows knitted tighter. His patience was notoriously thin, and what little he possessed was rapidly depleting. Yet, a strange sense of powerlessness held back his irritation. Lingering in his mind was the bizarre sensation of that soft, wet tongue brushing against the wound, the subtle friction of the small fangs attempting to pierce, and a disconcerting, persistent warmth radiating from the spot on his arm where he'd been licked.
"Go." Ethan's voice was clipped, icy, and brooked no argument.
The single word shattered Dawn's frozen state. He muttered something unintelligible under his breath, scrubbing fiercely at his eyes with the back of his hand. His wide, uncertain gaze remained locked on Ethan as he used the cold wall for support, slowly pushing himself upright.
Moving with the cautiousness of a cornered animal skirting the edge of safety, Dawn shuffled sideways along the wall until he reached the heavy wooden door. Fumbling, he found the handle, twisted it, and squeezed backward through the gap. Not a single word escaped him, nor did he dare take a full breath until the door clicked softly shut behind him, separating him from the imposing figure within.
With the retreating figure gone, Ethan turned his frown back toward the sprawling skyline visible through the window. The small cut on his left forearm had healed completely, leaving no trace behind.
But the silence didn't hold for long.
Click.
The faint sound of the door handle turning again echoed in the quiet room.
Ethan turned. The door opened a crack, revealing Dawn's tear-streaked face peering timidly through the gap. His cheeks were blotchy, his eyes red and puffy, nose equally flushed. He scanned the room quickly, his gaze colliding with Ethan's impassive one. When he spoke, his voice was thick with congestion and embarrassment:
"I… I can't find the way out…" The words were laced with the helplessness of a lost child and the plaintive whimper of a frightened creature.
A wave of pure exhaustion, tinged with a sense of the absurd, washed over Ethan. He swallowed whatever comment rose in his throat, opting instead to raise his hand with clear impatience and snap his fingers sharply.
In the corner shadows, space rippled, and a jet-black bat materialized soundlessly. Larger than average, its leathery wings were folded tight against its body as it hovered silently in the air. This was no ordinary bat; it was a familiar bat.
Ethan gestured dismissively towards the door. "See him out."
The bat emitted an almost inaudible hiss. Dark tendrils of smoke-like energy swirled around it. When the smoke cleared, a blank-faced adolescent figure clad in dark clothing stood there – an eerily humanoid construct. It received the command, nodded once with mechanical precision, its hollow eyes instantly fixing on Dawn by the door.
Startled by the sudden apparition, Dawn flinched backward, instinctively clearing the doorway. The construct took a step forward, its movements precise and unnervingly wordless. Dawn needed no further prompting. He scurried after it like a lifeline, his footsteps hastily pattering down the corridor until they faded into nothingness.
Utter, profound silence reclaimed the office.
Ethan released a long, nearly soundless breath, the tension visibly seeping from his shoulders. Yet, a fraction of a second later, his awareness sharpened – this feeling of being unsettled, thrown off balance by such a trivial encounter? It was deeply unfamiliar. Everything about today carried an unsettling scent of slipping control.
***
The chill air outside the building slapped Dawn back into sharper awareness. The construct, having served its purpose, dissolved back into bat form and vanished into the ether. Dawn didn't hesitate; he immediately broke into a run, bolting straight for his bubble tea shop, Sunrise, across the street.
Ding-a-ling!
The cheerful chime of the shop's doorbell announced a customer's entrance. Mia Yao began her automatic greeting: "Welcome to Sunr—" But the words died on her lips as a blur shot past her and dove headlong behind a heavy cloth drape sectioning off a small storage area.
"Huh?" Mia stared, bewildered, at the familiar sneakers peeking out from under the curtain. The silhouette behind it was visibly trembling. She set down the cup she was holding and approached cautiously. "Dawn? What's wrong?" She reached for the drape but encountered surprising resistance; it was being held taut from the other side.
Alarm flickered in Mia's mind. She was well aware her boss was a genuine, full-blooded vampire. Yet, the stereotypical image of a 'domineering, cold-hearted' vampire overlord was miles away from reality – this one was the dictionary definition of a scaredy-cat. Whatever had happened, it had clearly terrified him out of his wits.
"Dawn, seriously, what happened?" Mia pressed, her voice muffled by the fabric.
At the counter, Kevin Kong paused his work long enough to glance at the suspicious curtain. His question was characteristically blunt: "Trouble?"
Hidden behind the drape, Dawn held his breath, straining his ears. He listened for any ominous footsteps or that chilling aura he feared might follow him. After what felt like ages, reassured only by the familiar sounds of his shop and customers, he dared to peek one wide, apprehensive eye through a gap in the curtain. His gaze swept rapidly across the interior – Mia and Kevin watching him with concern, and two female customers in the corner observing his strange behavior with open curiosity.
No pursuers. Dawn finally released a shuddering, bone-deep sigh of relief, the iron band around his chest dissolving. He loosened his death grip on the drape and emerged, offering a weak, shaky smile. "N-nothing… really, it's okay," he mumbled, his voice still slightly unsteady.
Mia studied his face. He was still pale, but no longer looked ready to faint. She shrugged slightly, accustomed to Dawn's periodic bouts of inexplicable panic. If he insisted he was okay… well, probably fine.
The afternoon crawled by in a haze for Dawn. He stood behind the counter like a specter, his eyes glazed, gaze drifting unseeingly over Mia and Kevin as they worked, or focusing on some vague point in the distance. At one point, a customer discreetly filmed his vacant, lost-puppy expression and uploaded it online. Predictably, the comments section flooded anew with sentiments like "Adorable!", "Need to hug!", and "That blank stare is the cutest!"
The shop remained consistently busy. Mia and Kevin were swamped. SYN-01 and SOL-02 whirred efficiently through their tasks. Neither humans nor robots had time to dwell on the boss's distracted state. It wasn't until the sun dipped low, the last customer departed, and closing time arrived, that attention returned to him.
Tasks finished, Mia untied her apron and looked intently at Dawn, who still seemed distracted. "Dawn," she began seriously, "are you really sure you're okay? Look, if something's wrong – something serious – you need to talk to your family, you hear?" Her eyes held genuine worry. Many conflicts within the vampire world were simply beyond her human capacity to handle.
Dawn blinked, snapping slightly out of his fog. Seeing the concern in her eyes warmed him despite his lingering anxiety. He nodded firmly, forcing a tone of reassurance. "I know, Mia. Thanks. Honestly, I'm fine. Don't worry about me." He knew the brutal truth: his near-frenzied attack that afternoon was a felony under both vampire codes and human law. This was his first offense, its gravity immense. All afternoon, the chilling fear had been his constant companion – fear that the icy-eyed man would report him, dread that Division D agents would storm in and drag him away like a condemned criminal.
"Alright then," Mia conceded, grabbing her bag. "Just… remember to tell them if you need to, okay? Off I go!" Her tone was light, but the underlying message was firm.
Kevin, ever the man of few words, offered a short, crisp nod in Dawn's direction. Words were precious currency to Kevin, but the steady look in his eyes conveyed the same silent support.
"Don't worry! Be careful heading home!" Dawn managed a more convincing smile this time, trying to project an ease he didn't quite feel.
The three humans exchanged farewells with the now-dormant SYN-01 and SOL-02. The lights were switched off, the door locked with a final snick. The glass door now held back the warmth of the shop's interior. Outside, the descending twilight embraced the trio as they went their separate ways.
Dawn stood alone on the small shop's doorstep, the rapidly gathering dusk deepening around him. Unbidden, his gaze lifted towards the monolithic, darkening silhouette of the Twilight Tower, its windows beginning to glitter like cold stars against the fading sky. An involuntary shiver traced its way down his spine. He tugged his collar closer around his neck, then stepped quickly off the curb, hurrying to blend into the comforting anonymity of the rush-hour crowds heading home.