Debbie's POV
If there is one thing I hate more than hunger, war, or this cursed world, it's both humans and vampires.
Humans, because they're too weak to protect each other.Vampires, because they're too powerful to care who they destroy.
I am seventeen now, old enough to know the truth of what this world is and what it will never be.
This village… used to be a paradise. Before I was born, people said merchants from every kingdom passed through here. Humans with gold, vampires under peace treaties, scholars who traded rare books. Mother said the streets were noisy from morning till night, filled with bargaining, laughter, life.
All of that died when King Varlord's health began to crumble.
And with him, the peace he held together.
As his power weakened, the vampires showed their true nature. The neighboring vampire clans invaded us again and again. Our women were taken. Our children disappeared. Our homes burned or hollowed out. Whatever humanity we had left was sucked dry, literally.
The wealthy fled years ago, leaving behind empty houses and a deserted marketplace. Only the poor stayed. The hopeless. The stubborn. The ones who had nowhere else to go.
People like us.
My father wasn't poor, not in the beginning. He served in the royal enforcers from the time he was a teenager. Brave, loyal, clever, one of the few soldiers King Varlord trusted to guard him directly.
He built our home with his own savings, with the intention of raising us safely. He wanted Mother to run a lodge so travelers could stay and we could live comfortably. He sent money every season. He made sure Grandmother never had to work again.
Then the war happened.
The year I was born.
My father never came home. No body, no message, no clue.
Some say he was captured. Some say he died a hero. Some whisper he was betrayed from the inside.
Mother refuses to believe he's dead. Grandmother sits on the porch every day, watching the road like she's waiting for him to walk home. And me?
I hate vampires. All of them.
They call themselves superior beings because of their strength, their speed, their fangs.But they stole everything that truly mattered—knowledge, art, literature, architecture.Every masterpiece in this world was created by humans, yet vampires act as if brute strength makes them gods.
Idiots. Tall, ugly, fang-bearing idiots.
I swear, one day I will break a few of those fangs myself.
A loud sound crashes from outside—shouts, curses, a scream.
I don't bother moving.Trouble is as normal here as the morning sun. There's always a vampire beating someone, threatening someone, destroying something.
But Mother stands immediately and rushes out the door.
I stare at her back as she leaves.How does she do it?How does she keep going, every single day, after losing the man she loved and the life she was promised?
She is my mother. But she is also the biggest mystery I know.
I follow her after a moment, stepping into the chill night air.
The scene outside is… familiar, yet it still makes my stomach twist.
A huge vampire has a middle-aged man pinned against a wall, lifting him by the collar like he weighs nothing. The human's face is swollen, blood dripping from his nose and mouth, staining the dirt beneath them.
"I can crush your skull in one blow," the vampire snarls, his voice thick with arrogance.
The human spits blood on the vampire's boot. "Then do it. Go on. The new rules are clear. If I die, you'll be dragged straight to eternal punishment. I'll die a free man, but you'll die screaming. Do it."
"You dare—?!"
The vampire roars and slams his fist into the man's ribs.
I flinch—but only because he hit the same rib Father once said was the easiest to break.
"If I cannot kill you," the vampire growls, "I'll make you wish you were never born."
"G—gah…!"
The man collapses, clutching his side, breathing in ragged gasps.
Just then—
BOOM.
A squad of royal soldiers arrives, their boots slamming against the ground like thunder. They are dressed in dark crimson uniforms that gleam under the moonlight—strong bodies, disciplined eyes, expressions carved from stone.
Even I can't help but stare a little longer.Royal soldiers were the pride of Eldrath once.My father wore that same uniform.
One soldier steps forward, grabs the vampire's wrist, and twists it sharply.
The vampire screams.The human drops to the ground.
"Why are you arresting me?!" the vampire howls. "He insulted me first! He refused service to a superior race!"
The soldier's voice is cold, steady."Rule thirty-seven. Harming either species is punishable. If the victim dies, you will face eternal punishment. If he survives, judgement will determine your sentence."
The vampire's face goes pale.Even monsters fear the king's decrees.
The human groans, curling into himself.
Mother rushes forward. "Quick, bring him to my lodge! I have medicine—my daughter can help treat him—"
"I can do it myself," I say, moving to her side. My voice is calm, but inside I'm furious. This happens every week. Every few days. Every damn night.
The soldiers lift the bleeding man. The crowd begins whispering.
"How long will this continue?""Does the king even care?""Where are the princes?""Why can't they control the vampires anymore?"
I don't answer. I don't react.I keep my expression neutral.
But inside?
I am boiling.
This world is broken. Humans suffer because they are weak. Vampires dominate because they are monsters. And the royal family—once strong—seems to be barely holding the kingdom together.
Mother steps back, sighing in exhaustion.
I turn to return home—
But something… shifts.
A sudden, heavy silence falls over the street.
The soldiers all straighten.The vampire stops struggling.Even the wind feels like it pauses.
And then—
A metallic scent hits my nose.
No… not metallic.Something thicker.Older.Darker.
Blood.But not just any blood.
Royal blood.
I blink, staring at the direction the smell drifts from.
A group of soldiers in black armor—not crimson—appears at the end of the road.Their steps are synchronized, their presence suffocating.People fall silent.Mothers pull their children behind them.Even the wounded man trembles.
Black-armored soldiers never come here.They only protect one person.
A prince.A royal of the highest rank.
What is someone like that doing in a ruined countryside village?
The leader of the group scans the street, his sharp gaze landing on—
Me.
A chill runs down my spine.For a moment, I forget to breathe.
He whispers to the soldier beside him, and they both continue walking toward us.
The crowd starts murmuring.
"Why is the Black Guard here?""Which prince arrived?""Don't tell me… it's him…"
My pulse quickens.A strange, suffocating pressure settles over the village.
And then—I feel something impossible.
A faint sting behind my ribs.A strange warmth.A whisper in my bones.
My hand flies to my chest.
What… is this feeling?
I stare at the approaching soldiers—
And for the first time in my life,
I feel as if someone invisible is watching me.
Waiting for me.
As if fate itself just snapped a chain around my neck and began dragging me toward something terrifying.
I don't know who is coming.
But whoever it is—
They are coming for me.