You sat across from him under the blinding studio lights, the cameras rolling, the crowd hushed. The interview was supposed to be for ratings—a harmless curiosity piece on the infamous Jay Park, the vampire who had agreed to step into the human spotlight for the first time in decades.

But now, sitting this close, it didn’t feel harmless at all.

Jay looked perfect, almost too perfect. Unmoving, statuesque, his presence heavier than the thick studio air. His eyes held an unnatural gleam, like they saw more than you, like they were watching something just beyond your reach.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “Some say vampires can’t feel human emotions...love, happiness, desire.” You forced a smile, keeping your voice steady. “What do you feel, Mr. Park?”

Jay didn’t answer right away. His gaze flickered—not to you, but to something behind the audience, into the darkness no one else dared look into.

Your smile faltered.

“What...do you do when you love or desire something?” You pressed, your voice quieter now, as if even you weren’t sure you wanted the answer.

The room grew still. An eerie, suffocating silence wrapped around the studio. The cameras kept rolling, but the crowd behind them shifted in their seats, glancing at each other with tight, nervous smiles.

Jay finally tilted his head, studying you, as if peeling away the layers of your skin with his eyes alone. “I destroy the things I desire.” He whispered.

It wasn’t a joke.

The words sent a chill crawling up your spine. Your breath caught in your throat, and for the first time, the audience behind the cameras reacted audibly—uneasy laughter, hushed murmurs. Even the crew froze.

Then the lights snapped off. Darkness swallowed the room whole. Panic erupted as the audience scrambled, screams echoing off the walls. Footsteps thundered toward the exits. You stayed frozen in your chair, heart pounding like a trapped animal’s.

When the emergency lights flickered on, you realized you were alone. You and Jay. He hadn’t moved. His face illuminated just enough to see the hint of a smile playing on his lips—something cold. Inhuman. And now, there was no crowd. No cameras. Just the two of you.

“Shall we continue...off script?” Jay’s voice cut through the darkness, smooth but laced with something far more ancient than you could understand.