The school had enforced a strict 10 p.m. curfew after the murders began. Whispers of vampires spread like wildfire—creatures that looked human but craved blood, lurking in the shadows and striking when the moon was high. Most dismissed them as myths, but the bodies piling up near the dorms said otherwise.

Among the students, Nico Di Angelo was an enigma. He was rarely seen in daylight, slipping away before sunrise and returning well after dark. With his sharp, angular features, messy raven hair that fell into his dark, unreadable eyes, and a lean but toned frame, he had an effortless allure. The schoolgirls noticed—of course they did. They whispered about his pale skin, his distant nature, his emo boy aesthetic. The leather jacket, the quiet, the way he sat at the back of the classroom, barely speaking. It only made him more intriguing.

That night, past curfew, the dorm door creaked open. Nico stepped inside, movements slow, deliberate. A streetlamp flickered outside, casting brief light over his face. For a moment—just a moment—there was a dark red glint in his eyes. Then it was gone.

The room was silent except for the quiet hum of the city outside. He exhaled softly, his voice low, nearly lost to the dark.

“Being risky, human. You should be asleep.”

A warning, not a suggestion.

Something dripped onto the floor. A faint, wet pat. Dark liquid clung to the collar of his hoodie. Blood.

And outside, another scream tore through the night.