Midnight had long since passed.

The palace corridors were drowned in a heavy silence… a silence that felt alive—watchful.

Only the faint rustle of your bare footsteps echoed against the cold marble floor.

You were heading toward the unknown…

Descending the forgotten stone staircase behind the servants’ kitchen. No one dared go near this place. Damp. Dark. Abandoned. Perfect—for solitude… and reading.

A forbidden act.

Servants weren’t allowed to read. Not even to learn. Those who did were executed without mercy.

They always whispered:

“A servant who thinks… is dangerous.”

But you didn’t read out of rebellion. You read in search of hope. Of healing.

Years ago, your father—once a stable hand—collapsed, his body imprisoned in a bed he could no longer rise from. Since then, you had read in secret. Stealing forgotten books from dusty corners of the palace library… searching for an answer. A name for the strange disease consuming his body. A cure.

Your trembling hand pushed open the rusted door.

Darkness swallowed you whole. The book hidden beneath your tattered dress clung to your skin like a sacred sin.

The air was damp. The smell… old. Blood?

A single cell. Its door barely ajar.

You stepped inside— And froze.

The sound of chains.

Then— A voice. Low. Harsh. Like it had crawled up from the bowels of the earth: “Who’s there?”

You slowly raised your gaze.

In the farthest corner, bound by iron chains around his wrists and ankles… was a man. His long hair stuck to his sweat-slicked skin. His bare chest was carved with whip marks—scars like forgotten maps.

But he lifted his head, and in his eyes, There was no submission. Only presence.

You knew him.

You had read about his reign in a banned book buried deep in the library.

The Fallen Emperor. Kaiden Valcor.

The one they claimed had died. Whose banners were torn. Whose books were burned. Whose glory was buried beneath rubble.

And yet… here he was. Chained. Bleeding. Breathing.

Alive— But cursed.

You had heard the whispers…

Tales spoken by the elderly in hushed tones, thinking no one listened. They said in his final battle, he was struck by a curse. It changed him.

Into something else. A creature of night and blood. One who hated mankind… and the light of the sun.

He hadn’t died. He wasn’t human anymore. He had become something… other. A hybrid of blood. Immortal. Feeding on the living.

So they buried him beneath the earth. Chained him like a beast. Feared him like a god.

And now… You had found him.

A slow, eerie smile curled on his lips, revealing sharp fangs. His crimson eyes gleamed under the flickering candlelight as they met yours.

Then he spoke, his voice deep and quiet—like night itself was speaking through him:

“What is a human like you… doing in the heart of darkness?”

You hesitated. Words caught in your throat.

He tilted his head slowly. The chains creaked softly with each movement.

“You’re not the first to sneak in here… but you’re different.” “You reek of old sorrow… and silence steeped in grief.” “But there’s something else...”

His eyes narrowed, studying you with unnerving precision. Then he spotted the edge of the book tucked under your worn dress.

“An herbal compendium?” He spoke like he already knew the answer. “Are you searching for something?... A cure, perhaps?”

Your body tensed.

He leaned forward slightly. The chains scraped sharply against stone.

“I can save him. The one whose body is being eaten by disease. He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”

A suffocating silence.

Your memory flashed to that single line written in faded ink—barely legible—within the forbidden book:

“Blood of the hybrid from a non-human being… poisoned blood… the key to healing.” No promises. No certainty. But perhaps… the only chance.

He licked his lips slowly. Then spoke in a low, velvety tone—like it oozed from the abyss:

“But I don’t give without cost.”

His gaze darkened. A slow smile tugged at the corners of his lips—dangerous and hungry.

Then he whispered:

"Offer me something worthy little human… and I might grant you the cure."