"In the kingdom of night, love burns brighter than the sun." — Vampire Proverb
Warm sunlight brushed against my face, soft and golden through the velvet curtains of the royal guest chamber.For a moment, I floated in that hazy border between sleep and waking—half-dreaming, half-aware—my body heavy, my thoughts slow.
When I tried to move, something warm and soft pressed against my chest. A strange weight. A gentle heat.My brows furrowed in confusion. My limbs felt pinned.
And then I opened my eyes.
Crimson hair spilled across me like liquid fire.Carmila Noctharyn—the Vampire Princess—slept peacefully atop my chest, her breathing soft and steady. Her legs were entwined with mine, her fair skin glowing faintly in the sunlight that slipped past the enchanted curtains. Her thin black pajamas clung lightly to her body, half-translucent, the faint shimmer of night silk catching the light.
On my neck were several small, unmistakable red marks.
My brain short-circuited.For a long second, I couldn't think. Not of Nova Academy, not of the mysterious seal pulsing faintly beneath my skin, not even of who I was. My thoughts dissolved into static.
The only thing I could comprehend was this—Carmila Noctharyn, the most feared princess of the Vampire Dominion, was asleep on top of me.
Instinct jolted me awake. I shifted too quickly.
Carmila stirred, letting out a faint sound as she rubbed her eyes. Her long lashes fluttered before she looked up, crimson eyes hazy with sleep.
"Mm… good morning, darling," she murmured softly, her voice carrying a lazy sweetness that nearly stopped my heart.
I froze. Darling?
She said it like we'd been married for years.
"C-Carmila!" I stammered, trying not to sound panicked. "What are you doing here—and why are there… marks on my neck?"
Her lips curved into a mischievous smile. "You belong to me," she said simply, her tone half-playful, half-possessive. "So naturally, I can sleep wherever I please. And the marks…"—her gaze flickered to my throat—"…were just kisses. Are you shy?"
My mouth opened, then closed. Arguing would only invite chaos.
"I—just—Carmila," I sighed, trying to keep calm, "this kind of thing… you should only do with someone you love."
For a heartbeat, her smile faltered. Then her crimson eyes softened with something strange—intense, fragile, and heartbreakingly sincere.
"I love you," she whispered. "That means I can do this—with you."
My breath caught.
"Love me?" I asked quietly, unable to believe what I'd heard. "Aren't I just a toy to you? A human curiosity?"
Her expression changed—no longer playful, no longer teasing. There was a trembling honesty there that I'd never seen before.
"When I first heard of you," she began softly, "you were the Duke's heir—Adrian Kaelthorn, the weak one. The boy mocked by nobles, betrayed by his fiancée, ignored by his family. The one whose parents and sister never saw his worth."
Her voice wavered.
"Then, on your birthday, you disappeared. Everyone thought you'd fled from shame. But a year later, you returned—your black hair turned white, your eyes calm as frost. You'd climbed to C+ rank in just twelve months. When you destroyed every challenger at Nova Academy's entrance exam… I couldn't look away."
Her lips trembled into a faint smile. "I wanted to know what changed you. Why you looked at everyone like you'd already seen the end of the world. You avoided me, but that only drew me closer. I teased you, tested you… until I couldn't anymore. I fell for you, Adrian Kaelthorn. Hopelessly. I want you to belong to me—and no one else."
Before I could respond, Carmila moved. She pushed me gently down and climbed atop me, her crimson eyes burning with a mix of passion and madness.
Her hands trembled slightly as she whispered, "Now… tell me what you'll do."
I stared up at her, heart pounding.There was madness in her eyes—but there was also something heartbreakingly human beneath it. A desperate, genuine love.
And somewhere deep inside, I realized I felt the same.
Maybe it was her warmth. Maybe it was the way she looked at me—not as a duke's heir or a cursed prodigy, but as someone she truly saw.
I stopped thinking.
When she leaned down to kiss me, I didn't resist.
Her lips met mine—soft, hot, trembling. Her tongue brushed against my lips, seeking entrance, and I let her in. Our breaths tangled, our hearts pounded, and the world fell away.
It wasn't gentle—it was a duel. Sometimes she tried to dominate the kiss; sometimes I fought back. Our tongues clashed and tangled, the faint sweetness of her breath mixing with mine. Saliva and heat mingled as minutes blurred together.
When we finally broke apart, gasping, a thin strand of saliva lingered between us. Her cheeks flushed pink. My pulse refused to calm.
"I…" I swallowed hard, then whispered, "I love you too."
For a moment, silence.
Then Carmila's eyes widened—and to my astonishment, the terrifying, yandere vampire princess turned crimson with embarrassment, covered her face, and bolted out of the room like a flustered maiden.
I stared after her, stunned. Then I laughed softly.
"The feared Carmila Noctharyn… running away blushing?" I muttered. "I really did fall in love with a yandere."
I leaned back, letting out a deep sigh. But as my thoughts drifted, another name surfaced—Nymera Dravenholt, the Lioness Princess of the Solar Dominion. Proud, fiery, golden as dawn itself.
She'd dueled me once and never stopped challenging me since. Somewhere between rivalry and friendship, something warmer had taken root.
A cold bead of sweat trickled down my neck as an image crossed my mind—Nymera confessing, and Carmila finding out.
Two princesses. One vampire, one lioness. Both terrifying.
"The continent would probably crumble," I muttered grimly. "Let's… not think about that yet."
After convincing myself I wasn't about to be torn apart by two royal beauties, I rose and called for the attendants. They guided me through the marble corridors of the Noctharyn Palace to the bathhouse.
The steam rose in thin, silver clouds. The scent of roses and iron filled the air. For a long time, I just stood beneath the warm water, letting it wash away the chaos of the morning.
When I emerged, I donned the black formal uniform prepared for me—embroidered with silver threads and the insignia of House Noctharyn. My reflection showed white hair, calm eyes, and faint red marks still visible on my neck.
"Subtle," I muttered. "She really has no restraint."
The servants escorted me to the grand dining hall—a cathedral of black marble and crimson crystal. At the head of the long table sat Empress Mathilda Noctharyn, the Vampire Empress herself.
She was a vision of elegance and power. Her beauty mirrored Carmila's, but her bearing radiated command. She looked barely twenty-five, but I knew she was centuries old—an SS-rank monarch whose presence could silence armies.
Beside her sat Carmila, demure and quiet, her crimson eyes flicking toward me only to dart away again, faintly pink at the edges.
I bowed deeply. "Your Majesty."
Mathilda smiled faintly. "Rise, child. You need not be so formal here." Her voice was calm—like silk woven over steel.
As breakfast began, the silence between mother and daughter was… palpable. The Empress's knowing eyes caught every glance, every fidget.
Finally, she spoke. "Carmila, you seem rather lively this morning. Did something good happen?"
Carmila froze mid-bite. "N-no, Mother."
Mathilda's smile deepened. "Ah, I see. And yet, our guest bears rather… intriguing marks upon his neck."
I choked on my drink. Carmila's eyes went wide.
"Mother!" she squeaked.
"Oh, forgive me," Mathilda said lightly. "I suppose I shouldn't pry into my daughter's personal affairs."
Carmila's face turned scarlet.
I wasn't sure if I should laugh or die of embarrassment.
When the meal finally ended, Carmila muttered something about needing fresh air and stormed out. Mathilda simply watched her leave, then turned to me with a faint smile.
"She truly cares for you," the Empress said softly. "Be gentle with her heart, Adrian Kaelthorn. It burns brighter than even she realizes."
I bowed again, unsure how to respond.
After breakfast, Carmila found me on the palace balcony. The wind played with her hair as she smiled faintly. "Come," she said, "let me show you my home."
And she did.
We spent the day walking through Noctharyn, the capital of the Vampire Dominion—a city of glass and crimson marble where mana flowed through every stone like veins of light. Towers floated in silent orbit above the streets, connected by silver bridges. The air shimmered faintly, alive with ancient spells.
She showed me the Fountain of Bloodlight, where she cast her first spell as a child, and the Moonshade Library, her father's final gift to the Dominion before his death. Her laughter echoed in those streets, soft and radiant.
She spoke of her father, Emperor Aurthur Noctharyn, the warrior-king who once fought an SS-rank demon to protect his people.
"When I was five," she said quietly, "Father faced the Abyssal Warlord that invaded our borders. Mother had just broken through to SS-rank, but she wasn't ready. So Father fought in her stead. Their battle lasted an entire day and night—the mountains shattered, rivers burned, even the sky bled red."
She looked down, her expression solemn. "He won. But the injuries… he never recovered. A week later, he died."
Her voice softened. "Mother never remarried. She raised me alone. That's probably why she spoils me too much."
I listened silently, the weight of her words settling in. Beneath her playful madness lay a loneliness I understood all too well.
As the sun dipped low, painting the crimson spires in gold, Carmila turned to me and smiled. "You're different, Adrian. When you look at me, you don't see a monster."
"I see you," I said simply.
She blinked, startled. Then smiled again, a real, fragile smile.
The night fell gently upon the Vampire Dominion. After dinner, I retired to my chambers, exhaustion finally catching up with me. The silence was thick, peaceful.
I was just about to drift into sleep when—
Knock.
A soft sound at the door.
Once. Twice.
The clock struck midnight.
The air grew still.
I rose slowly. "Carmila?" I murmured.
Another soft knock.
The moonlight poured through the window, silver and cold, as I reached for the door handle.
And the night itself seemed to hold its breath.