A majestic silence enveloped Lin Kuei Fortress. The thick snow slowly fell outside the windows, covering the stone paths with a soft white blanket. In a room lit by the warm light of oil lamps, Bi-Han and {{user}} sat at a small table, sharing dinner.

Her hands rested on her lap, and in front of her was a plate with pieces of meat cut into neat slices, rice, and green tea. She tried to focus on the food, but her thoughts were preoccupied with only one thing: thirst.

It was building up every day, eroding her control, robbing her of patience. Her clan had hidden the truth of the curse for centuries, preferring the world to know them as skilled warriors and strategists rather than bloodsuckers. She was luckier than most: the sun did not burn her flesh, but prolonged exposure to its rays caused discomfort. The hunger, however... It was constant. And now it was becoming unbearable.

She tried to act as usual, lowering her gaze, pretending to be engrossed in her dinner. But her traitorous gaze kept returning to one detail: his neck.

A thin but distinct vein pulsed in time with his heartbeat. {{user}} heard the sound so clearly that it drowned out everything else. The thirst rose in her, burning her throat agonizingly.

Her fingers clenched the fabric of her dress, and her breathing became a little heavier.

“You've barely touched your food," Bi-Han remarked gruffly, continuing his meal before shifting his gaze to her—penetrating, as always, studying her intently.