The month in the Underworld finally came to an end.
The cooldown period is over.
Ethan stood before the dimensional portal, its surface rippling like dark red water suspended in midair. The energy inside it shifted slowly, deep and silent, distorting the space around it.
He wasn't leaving alone.
Selene stood beside him.
In that month, distance between them had disappeared. What began as tension and curiosity had turned into something real—something physical, intense, and very much not innocent. It wasn't childish romance.
"So you weren't joking," Selene said quietly. "You really are from another world."
The existence of the portal in front of her made it undeniable. That alone explained why he was different from every vampire she had ever known. Different strength. Different abilities.
"Of course I wasn't joking," Ethan replied lightly. "Your man is a dimensional traveler… and a vampire progenitor."
She gave him a look at the phrase "your man," but didn't argue.
Instead, she stepped closer and extended her hand into the portal's surface. It swallowed her fingers like liquid, yet nothing emerged on the other side. There was no exit point visible. Just depth.
"How does it even work?" she asked, pulling her hand back slowly.
Ethan shrugged.
"Mostly? I don't know. I just know how to open it… and what's waiting on the other end."
That was the honest answer. The system opened the path. He used it. Understanding the mechanics wasn't part of the deal.
Selene studied him for a moment longer, then looked back at the portal.
"And this world?" she asked, eyes still on the portal. "It's not like this?"
"Nope," Ethan replied. "It has a lot of special races. They're called outcasts. Vampires, werewolves, psychics, gorgons, shapeshifters… and many others."
"That many?" Selene asked, brows narrowing slightly.
"Yes. And they're public. Everyone knows about them," Ethan said calmly. "Though that doesn't mean there's no discrimination."
Selene gave him a sideways look. "Your world sounds more unstable than mine."
"In more ways than you can imagine," Ethan answered. Then he tightened his grip on her hand. "So… let's go."
He stepped into the portal, pulling her with him.
The sensation was brief—like passing through cold water without getting wet.
The next second, they stood in the center of a vast mansion hall.
Marble floors. High ceilings. Tall windows. Sunlight spilling in without burning either of them.
Selene's gaze lifted slowly, scanning the space with quiet assessment. Then her eyes stopped at the massive portrait hanging on the far wall.
It was Ethan.
Painted in formal attire, expression composed, almost regal.
She looked from the portrait… to him.
"So," Selene said, tone unreadable, "this is your house?"
"Yes," Ethan replied casually. "This is where I live. It's a bit too big for one person." He glanced at her, faint smirk forming. "But I guess I've got company now."
Selene didn't answer immediately, still taking in the scale of the place. It was easily the size of a vampire coven estate.
Then—
The phone on the table nearby started ringing.
Ethan picked it up.
"Hello, this is Ethan Corvin. Who is this?" His tone was neutral. Only his firm or business partners used this number.
"It's Mike."
"Uncle Mike? Did something happen? I told you to take leave. Two months. Paid." He had practically forced the man to spend time with his family.
"Master Ethan… I need help." Mike's voice trembled. There was no professionalism left in it—only fear. "I didn't know who else to call. My daughter… she disappeared."
Ethan's expression hardened.
"What do you mean disappeared?"
"She found a book yesterday. From an antique store. She was excited about it. Said it looked old and special." Mike's breathing hitched. "When my wife went to call her for dinner, she was gone. Just… gone. The book was open on the table."
Ethan's voice lowered. "Your daughter is nine."
"Yes," Mike said, voice breaking. "My wife is falling apart. The police found nothing. No signs of forced entry. No fingerprints. Nothing."
"How did she disappear?" Ethan pressed. "Tell me everything."
"The book…" Mike swallowed. "It's strange. The pages look like human skin. The writing looks like blood. And the cover…" His voice dropped to a whisper. "The cover has a face on it. A screaming face."
Ethan went very still.
"Screaming face," he repeated quietly. "Written in blood."
The image clicked into place in his mind, the description reminding him of a horrifying book from one of the scariest movies he had ever seen.
Naturom Demonto.
The Book of the Dead.
"Uncle Mike," Ethan said sharply, his tone now completely serious, "do not touch that book. Don't move it. Don't close it. Don't read anything from it. That thing is dangerous."
On the other end, silence. Then a shaky, "You're coming?"
"I'm coming."
He hung up.
Selene had been watching him the entire time, reading the shift in his posture, the change in his eyes.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
Ethan exhaled slowly.
"Yes," he said. "Something very dangerous just surfaced."
He knew, compared to outcasts and everything else he had dealt with, this book stood on an entirely different level.
Vampires and Lycans were dangerous, yes—but they were still living beings. They could be reasoned with, threatened, negotiated with, or killed. This book was not like that.
He hadn't expected this world to have it.
If it wasn't handled properly, the mess it could create wouldn't stay small. It wouldn't be limited to one house or one city. The Book of the Dead had the power to subvert the entire world if it fell into the wrong hands.
It didn't just curse people.
It opened doors.
And what waited behind those doors was not something this world was ready for.
*****
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