The crimson liquid swirled inside the crystal glass as the pale woman raised it with a sigh."How many centuries has it been now?" she asked her butler lazily.
"Year 2019, my lady. The twenty-first century. Shall I pour you another glass?"
"Tch. Another? I've been drinking pig's blood for five hundred years, and it still reeks. It doesn't compare to the richness of human wine."
Her name was Selene Vaughn, last scion of the Brujah clan, a vampire who had walked this earth for more than five centuries. Time had stripped away her sense of belonging, leaving only solitude—until she found her loyal retainer, Irene Ashford.
"You've stayed by my side for so long, Irene. Do you regret it?" Selene asked, tugging at her collar.
"Never, my lady. Without you, I would not even have the dignity to live. And besides…I must find her."
Selene chuckled bitterly. "So… which country will we move to this time?"
"Back to Korea. This time, you'll inherit your old company—Starlight International Trade—as the estranged daughter returning for her legacy."
Selene scoffed. "Another two decades trapped as a corporate heiress… how dull."
At Incheon airport, cameras flashed. Reporters surged forward. To them, Selene Vaughn looked hauntingly like the founder of Starlight International who had vanished thirty years ago—pale skin, silver hair, aristocratic posture. Only Selene and Irene knew the truth: they were the same person.
The company takeover was simple enough; Irene had been running it flawlessly for decades. What proved more troublesome was the way female employees gazed at their new CEO with awe and desire. Selene's porcelain skin, sharp suits, and Irene's ever-present black umbrella lent her an aura untouchable, almost divine.
One night, Selene suggested, "Irene, let's unwind. It's been weeks of tedium."
The two ended up at a nightclub, drowning in pounding bass and flashing lights. Selene danced among mortals, enjoying the fleeting thrill—until Irene sensed something wrong.
Hunters.
A shadow emerged in the alley behind the club: a woman wielding silver blades."Selene Vaughn. Last heir of the Brujah clan," the hunter sneered.
Selene smirked. "That's me."
"Have you grown so complacent that you don't even run anymore?"
The hunter shifted her gaze to Irene. "And you—poor child, chained to this monster. Let me free you."
But Irene stepped forward, whip in hand, and declared:"If you want her, you'll have to go through me."
The clash was brutal. The hunter's silver sword pierced Selene's side, crimson soaking through her suit. Irene fought desperately, but her strength faltered. In the chaos, Selene was forced to retreat, dragging her injured body through the city streets—until she collapsed at the doorway of a small convenience store.
There, fate intervened.
When Selene awoke, she found herself in a stranger's apartment. A young woman knelt beside her with calm eyes and a photo album in hand.
"My name is Serena Moreau," she said evenly. "I know what you are. A vampire."
Selene's crimson eyes widened in shock—few humans ever reacted so calmly to the sight of fangs.
Serena continued, "I am Dhampir. Half-vampire, born of a Toreador father who was slain by hunters. My mother followed him to the grave. I was left behind."
She turned the pages of her album—family photographs, journals, fragments of a life stolen by violence.
"For years I've searched for answers. And now, by finding you, I finally have a chance to uncover the truth."
Selene's hand tightened over her wound. For the first time in centuries, she felt a ripple of something dangerous, something familiar. Destiny.