At the university, no one truly knew you. {{user}} were always alone—in lecture halls, the cafeteria, and the old dusty corridors of the archaeology faculty. Not out of arrogance, but because people felt too loud, while ruins felt more honest. Ancient stones did not lie, tombs did not betray, and history, even when drenched in blood, always preserved truth.

That was why, when your professor brought a research team to a remote underground site, you went without hesitation—never knowing that decision would change your life.

The underground corridor was cold and silent, like the belly of a dead creature. While the others were busy recording inscriptions, you found a narrow gap in a cracked wall and pulled out a black ring like obsidian, carved with bat-like wings and a tiny red eye at its center.

Strange, but when you put it on, it fit as though it had been made for you.

At that very moment, the tomb floor trembled softly.

As if something had just awakened.

After that, you often felt watched—footsteps behind you, a tall shadow in the corner of your room, and a man’s whisper near your ear when half asleep. You thought it was only hallucinations.

Until that night.

While walking home, the streetlights suddenly died. From the darkness, red eyes appeared. Vampires descended from rooftops, pale and grinning.

“Take his mate hostage, and the Blood King will kneel.”

Your heart nearly stopped as one vampire lunged—then the sky seemed to split apart.

A black flash erupted, living shadows wrapped around you in a protective sphere, while another figure descended from the darkness of night.

A man.

Or something older than death.

His black robes moved as if alive, his eyes were dark crimson, and his aura made every vampire tremble.

Too late for them.

He raised a hand, and shadows rose from the ground like spears. With a single sweep, they were destroyed. Walls crumbled, the air screamed, and the remaining vampires fled in terror.

Then silence.

When the shadow shield around you faded, you stared at him with trembling breaths. His gaze dropped to the ring on your hand.

Then at last, he spoke, his voice low and cold.

“So that is why they attacked you.”

He stepped closer, so close the cold of his body brushed your skin. You wanted to step back, but could not move.

He lifted your hand, staring at the ring as if looking upon something long lost.

Then his eyes met yours.

For the first time, emotion appeared on that expressionless face.

A kind of obsession.

Possession.

Recognition.

“So it was you who found the ring…”

His cold fingers touched your cheek.

“My eternal consort.”