After I ate, Alan turned on the TV. I held the remote, lazily flipping through channels while the news blurred into background noise. Outside, a light rain had started, making the whole afternoon feel heavier and slower.
Alan dropped his head into my lap. He closed his eyes, like the weight of the world had just been lifted off him. Comfortable enough that I almost forgot we'd spent part of this same day throwing a porcelain vase at each other.
"Thank you," Alan murmured.
I didn't answer with words—I just let my fingers thread through his hair. The trouble was my brain—that relentless, uninvited roommate—was already starting up. A long line of questions was forming, each one jockeying for position.
"Alan," I said quietly.
"Hmm?" He didn't open his eyes.
"Vampires—how many of you actually exist? Do you have colonies or something?"
Alan let out a small laugh, the vibration traveling through my leg. "No, Alina. Our population is small. Maybe around three hundred worldwide."
"Three hundred?" My eyes narrowed. "And you know that how? Is there a registry, some kind of official community, or is that just your rough estimate?"
"Rough estimate," Alan admitted. "I've been disconnected from vampire clans for a long time, so I don't have current numbers."
"If you're scattered across the world, how do you communicate? Secret radio frequencies?"
"Letters, email, phone," Alan said easily. "Same as any regular group."
"So there's still an organization? Some kind of 'authority' or elder who handles grievances?"
"Yes, there's a leader. Right now he lives in a castle in Exeter, England." Alan's gaze drifted to the ceiling, his tone shifting to something almost philosophical. "Our world is structured, but it comes with serious existential trade-offs. We get the looks, the physical strength, the instant healing—but there's a price. The technical term is Absolute Monogamy."
I stopped running my fingers through his hair. "Monogamy? As in… one partner. Forever?"
"Yes." Alan tilted his face toward me, a hint of mischief in his expression. "Vampires can only bond with one person. If that person leaves, or… isn't there anymore, we can't find a replacement."
I squinted, something about that not sitting right. "Hold on. So if I left you, you'd be alone. Permanently. Like, forever alone?"
"Pretty much," he said lightly, but those blue eyes were tracking my every reaction. "And only vampires can have offspring with other vampires. So if it's you and me, well… you already know the biological implications."
I went quiet. That hit differently than I'd expected—a subtle, heavy pressure in my chest. If what Alan was saying was true, his loyalty to me was hardwired into his very biology. But me? I was human (or so I'd thought). Was I supposed to stay out of guilt? Because I couldn't bear the thought of him alone forever?
It felt like a subtle trap, gift-wrapped in romance.
"Why does it have to work that way? Isn't there some kind of reset?" I asked, trying to stay casual even as the suspicion grew.
"Don't know," Alan shrugged, letting his head fall back. "The blood bond has existed since the first vampire. The theory is that it's nature's way of keeping predators like us from taking over. We get limited through attachment."
I frowned. "The first vampire? You're not making up rules just to keep me from straying, are you?"
"No, Alina. It's real."
"Come on, vampires are supposed to be smart. There's no workaround?"
Alan was quiet for a moment. "No. It's built into what we are."
"That just doesn't make any sense. How does it even work?"
"From what I've observed over the years, it starts with psychological deterioration—long-term depression that eventually begins damaging the organs."
"That can't be true."
"Why would I lie?"
"I don't know, maybe—" I pinched his cheek, slightly harder than intended— "to make me feel guilty if I ever think about leaving. 'Oh no, I can't break up with Alan, what if he can never fall in love again.' That is the cheapest psychological move I've ever heard."
Alan laughed, louder this time. He caught my hand and pressed his lips to my palm. "If it's a move, it's the most effective one in recorded history. Because here you are—still on this couch, next to the lonely monster."
I ruffled his hair, half-affectionate and half-exasperated. My eyes drifted toward the drinks on the table. "About those cans," I said carefully. "Are they all blood? Including the Gora you were about to give me earlier?"
"They're different." Alan exhaled. He reached for one of the recently delivered cans. "This one is actual strawberry milk. What I had hidden in the fridge was the real thing. How did you even find that one? I literally handed you this one first."
"I wanted something cold. Anyway—who supplies the blood?"
"I order it through Dr. Richard at Tokai Hospital. He and his team handle everything—donors, packaging, delivery."
"Wait." My eyes went wide. "The doctor is a vampire?"
"No." Alan shook his head. "He's a humanos."
"Huma… nos?" I repeated the word, my tongue stumbling over it.
Alan nodded, without hesitation this time. "Aren't you one too?"
"Me?" My voice came out hollow.
"Yes." Alan studied my expression carefully—like he was looking for a lie, but all he found was pure bewilderment. "You didn't know?"
"Hold on. I don't understand. What is a humanos?"
Alan shifted into a more deliberate tone. "Think of it as humans with a specific blood classification. Simply put, a regular human who drinks vampire blood would get sick and die. A humanos wouldn't. Their body is resistant to it. Vampire blood doesn't harm them—if anything, it heals them."
Alan gave a faint, bittersweet smile. "And more importantly… Humanos blood has a powerful, unmistakable scent."
I tried to assemble the pieces falling into place inside my head. Alan let me, like he already knew I'd be busy drawing my own conclusions.
"So that's why you went completely quiet that day," I murmured. "When I came to call you out for skipping. My finger was cut. I had the butterfly Band-Aid on it."
Alan nodded. He remembered that smell—sharp, sweet, and lethal. "Exactly. I almost lost control right then."
"And at Maxell Aquarium Park," I continued. "When my arm got cut."
"I wasn't thinking about the wound," Alan admitted honestly. "I was focused on keeping myself from losing it."
"Alan—I still believe you came to me because of me. Not because I'm a humanos."
Alan sat up, his hand reaching to touch my cheek. "At first, after the day you showed up at my apartment, I was curious. Why is there a humanos here? What's the angle? Is she a plant? That's why I watched you from a distance."
Alan looked into my eyes, searching for any flicker of doubt. "But you moved like a completely normal person. No suspicious behavior. If you were performing, you'd have already won a Grammy."
"And now?"
"It doesn't matter whether you're a humanos or not. You're still Alina—the person who made me understand what home feels like."
Alan rested his head back against my shoulder. His breathing gradually leveled out. A quiet moment between us that felt almost too valuable to be real.
I looked down, hands gripping the edge of the pillow like I was trying to physically organize the information I'd just received.
"How many humanos are there?" I asked quietly.
"Maybe around three thousand," Alan said. He didn't have to think long to pull that number. Small by global scale, but large enough to make anyone's head spin. "They're split into two major factions. Danzel and Hammer."
"Hammer?" I repeated, reaching for my phone. "Like—the brand on my phone case?"
"That's one of their legitimate business arms," Alan confirmed. He leaned back against the couch, eyes scanning the room. "Hammer focuses on technology and consumer products. They prefer operating in visible, legal spaces."
"And Danzel?"
"The opposite." Alan's voice dropped. "Danzel runs the underground—bootleg liquor, drugs, money laundering, and worse. They're far more aggressive."
I looked up at him, curiosity tangled with a creeping unease. "The fights you kept getting into—were they because of these groups? Both Danzel and Hammer have something against you?"
"Yes." Alan nodded. A few faces crossed his mind—people who'd come out of those encounters looking significantly worse than they went in. "The heavily tattooed ones are usually Danzel. They like to make a show of force. Hammer is cleaner, more polished. They work from behind the curtain."
I exhaled slowly. "Your life is genuinely exhausting. Why not just broker some kind of peace deal?"
"Not possible," Alan said flatly. "Danzel and Hammer's ideologies are fundamentally incompatible. There's too much history between them that can't be solved by a handshake."
Alan watched me starting to look uneasy. "That's why I'm worried about you becoming a target. Humanos who have faction ties can be dangerous."
"Right. So that's why you wanted to teach me self-defense," I said quietly.
"Exactly." Alan reached over and pinched my nose lightly, trying to ease some of the tension.
"But you know I can barely function past an hour of jogging. I'm not built for this."
"You are. We'll take it gradually. I'll be with you every step of the way."
"What if we just report it to the police?"
Alan gave a dry, cynical laugh. "It wouldn't do any good. Their reach goes far deeper than the law."
"So the police are actually in on this?"
"Some of them, yes. Not everyone with a badge is clean."
I sat with that for a moment. "What about Yuki's father?"
"He died on a job trying to dismantle a Danzel operation." Alan ran his hand gently through my hair.
"And Yuki wants to finish what his father started?"
"That's what worries me. The judo, the shooting practice—if Yuki gets seriously involved, I don't like his odds."
"Has he asked you to help?"
"Alina, he doesn't know I'm a vampire. I've never told him."
"What about Danzel's operations specifically?"
"No. Danzel moves constantly, hard to track, backed by powerful figures. Nearly two thousand members. A fully coordinated network."
"So taking them down would need an international joint operation?"
"Yes."
"That's terrifying. Like an actual cartel." I paused. "Is there any realistic way to stop them?"
"Theoretically… you'd have to get to the top of the organization and restructure it from the inside."
I hit his arm. Alan grinned and made a small sound.
"Become a mob boss? Alan, please don't tell me you're seriously—"
"It's the most logical solution. Only the head can redirect what the organization does."
"That's not how we're solving this, Alan. I don't want you going down that road."
"Relax, I'm joking."
I made a face and went back to turning the problem over in my head, looking for some other answer that probably ended at the same dead end.
"Don't worry," Alan said, taking my hand—his large palm wrapping entirely around my fingers. "I'm here. I won't let anyone touch a single hair on your head."
"I know," I nodded slowly, though my gaze had gone somewhere distant. "But is there any way to tell them apart? So I don't end up wrongly suspecting some random person who just happens to have tattoos. Like, if I spot someone from a distance, could I recognize the signs and know to avoid them?"
"There are markers," Alan said, making sure I was following. "Both Hammer and Danzel use the same symbol—an H shaped like a butterfly."
Something shifted in me immediately. My body went rigid. My pulse spiked hard.
"Alan—is that actually their identifier?" My voice wasn't steady.
"Yes. Danzel usually has it tattooed. Hammer tends to be subtler—it shows up on bracelets, watches, rings."
I stood up without meaning to. The air in the room felt suddenly thin. Alan rose too, his instincts snapping to attention. He knew something was wrong.
"Alina, what is it?"
"Dad's pendant…" I said, barely above a murmur. My eyes were blank, somewhere far in the past.
"What about it?"
"He gave it to me when I was seven," I said, my feet already moving—out of the door.
Alan fell into step beside me within two seconds, matching my pace easily. "Are you sure it's the same symbol I'm describing?"
"Yes!" The frustration made my voice come out sharp. I jabbed the elevator button repeatedly, knowing it wouldn't come faster. "All this time I thought the H stood for Hamish. My family name. I had no idea it was a faction mark."
"So your father was from Hammer?"
"That's what I'm thinking. Alan—do you know my father? Luveri Hamish?"
We stepped into the elevator. The doors slid shut slowly, sealing us inside with a tension that had nowhere to go.
"No, I've never heard that name," Alan said quickly. "I left the vampire clans over forty years ago. What I know about Hammer and Danzel is limited, and most of it came through Dr. Richard, who doesn't exactly volunteer information freely."
The elevator opened. I moved fast, nearly breaking into a run, almost tripping over nothing in the long corridor.
"Alina, careful—"
Alan's arm was already there, steady around me before I could fully stumble.
"Easy," he said quietly near my ear. "We figure this out piece by piece. Don't rush into it."
I gently moved his arm away and straightened up. My breathing was fast—not from the walking, but from the panic.
"But Alan—if my father really was from Hammer, does that mean I'm automatically one of them too?" My voice came out rough. "Do I have some kind of obligation I've never been told about?"
"I don't know," Alan said, shaking his head slowly, his expression working through something. "But here's what I'd want to understand: what exactly did your father do? Why were you hidden? Why aren't you registered as an official member? Those are the real questions."
"You're right. But if I'm pulled into Hammer—what does that mean for me? Do I have to follow their rules? Study and work where they tell me to? Am I looking at consequences for just… existing?"
The anxiety was starting to climb—the image of my freedom being stripped away by a legacy I never asked for.
"Don't spiral that far ahead," Alan said, looking at me steadily. "One thing at a time. Get the pendant. We verify first."
I nodded and kept walking toward my apartment door. It felt like walking to the gallows.