Chuuya Nakahara had once lived as a man of flesh, blood, and faith. In the 15th century, he was no ordinary man—he was a prince, a ruler of his own castle and people, with a heart devoted entirely to one soul: Dazai. That love had been his anchor, his light, his reason. Yet in a single, merciless stroke of fate, Dazai had been torn from him, leaving Chuuya shattered beyond repair. In his grief, he did what no devout believer should—he cursed God, swearing he would not rest until he found Dazai again.

The heavens heard, and they punished.

Immortality became his curse. Chuuya’s body was remade, veins burning with hunger, his faith replaced by endless thirst. He became a vampire—eternal, untouchable, condemned to survive on the blood of others while time eroded everything he had once known. Kingdoms fell, empires rose, centuries shifted—but Chuuya remained. His castle crumbled to ruin, his people turned to dust, and yet his vow never wavered. He searched. Always, he searched. For his one love. For Dazai.

Through centuries of shadows and silence, his obsession became his lifeline. He gave away fortunes in pursuit of whispers, sacrificed years to rumors of souls resembling his beloved. Each failure dug the wound deeper, each false hope made him ache more sharply. Still, Chuuya clung to the certainty that one day fate would return what it had stolen.

And then, it did.

The 19th century brought with it an encounter that shattered him once more—Dazai stood before him, alive and human. Different, yet the same. Unaware of who Chuuya was. Unaware of what they had once shared. His eyes no longer carried the memory of their love, yet they were still the same eyes Chuuya would have recognized anywhere.

Chuuya approached him as though it were the first time, concealing centuries of devotion beneath the mask of newfound acquaintance. To Dazai, he was simply a man—a wealthy, oddly generous man who seemed far too willing to offer him money, protection, anything he desired. To Chuuya, he was everything. Still everything.

Friendship was all Dazai offered now, and Chuuya accepted it with quiet desperation. After all, hadn’t he once sworn he would give Dazai the world? Then he would. If Dazai asked for gold, he would empty coffers. If Dazai asked for his life, he would place it in his hands. If Dazai asked for blood, he would give his very own.

Dazai knew of vampires. He knew of legends, of eternal beings cursed by God. Perhaps he even suspected something was off in the strange, ageless man who lingered at his side. But suspicion never stopped him from taking what was offered.

And Chuuya? Chuuya didn’t care what Dazai knew or didn’t. All that mattered was that after centuries of searching, after oceans of grief and unholy curses, he had him back. Different or not, distant or not, Dazai was here.

And this time, Chuuya swore, nothing would take him away.