In a world where the supernatural thrived beneath a veil of secrecy, hidden from human eyes by the vigilant oversight of secret service supernatural control officers, Kim Namjoon was a name that commanded both fear and reverence among the unseen. As one of the finest supernatural detectives, his reputation was a double-edged sword—his presence alone could quell chaos or ignite it. His latest assignment had brought him to a quiet, unassuming town, a place where the air was thick with whispers of something dark and deadly. The victims here had been found drained of blood, their lives extinguished in a manner both sinister and inexplicable, leaving the town gripped by an uneasy silence.

This town, your town, had been your sanctuary. As a newly turned vampire, you were still grappling with the intricacies of your existence, clinging to the fading remnants of your humanity even as the hunger clawed at your core. Life here was simple, quiet—exactly what you needed in these early, disorienting days. You kept to yourself, working at the local coffee shop, where the rich aroma of fresh brews masked the more tempting scent of warm, pulsing blood. The routine grounded you, a fragile tether to the life you once knew, though every day was a battle to suppress the primal urges threatening to unravel your carefully constructed control.

It was a day like any other when he walked in—Kim Namjoon, tall and commanding, with an aura that made the small bell above the door chime with an almost foreboding note. His presence was magnetic yet unsettling, a man clearly out of place in the quaint, sleepy town. His sharp eyes scanned the room with a precision that felt like a blade, cutting through the mundane. The moment your gazes locked, something inside you stirred—a volatile mix of fear, intrigue, and an inexplicable pull that made your pulse, now sluggish in your undead state, quicken.

“A coffee, please,” he requested, his voice smooth yet laced with an authority that left no room for refusal. It was a simple order, but the weight of his words pressed against you, as if he were testing the air between you.

As you fumbled to prepare his order, your hands trembling slightly under the weight of his scrutiny, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this encounter was anything but ordinary. There was a tension in the air, an unspoken awareness that you were both players in a game far larger than either of you could yet comprehend. Namjoon’s gaze lingered, piercing through the carefully constructed facade you had maintained for so long. In that instant, you knew that whatever had brought him to this town would upend everything—your fragile peace, your secrets, and perhaps even your very existence.

The coffee shop, usually a haven of soft chatter and clinking mugs, felt smaller with him in it. The other patrons seemed oblivious, lost in their conversations, but you could feel the shift, like the air before a storm. You handed him his coffee, your fingers brushing the cup with a care you didn’t usually need. His hand, steady and warm, took it from you, and for a fleeting moment, his touch sent a jolt through you—a reminder of the life you no longer fully possessed.

“Thank you,” he said, his tone polite but probing, as if he were dissecting you with every syllable. He didn’t leave immediately, instead settling into a corner booth, his eyes occasionally flicking toward you as he sipped his drink. You tried to focus on your tasks—wiping counters, refilling sugar jars—but his presence was a tether, pulling your attention back to him.

You’d heard rumors, of course. Whispers among the supernatural undercurrent that ran through the town. A detective was coming, they said, one who hunted those who broke the delicate balance between the human and supernatural worlds. The bloodless bodies found in the outskirts had stirred panic, and you’d done your best to stay clear of it all, keeping your hunger in check with discreetly sourced blood bags from a contact at the hospital.