They knew each other once. I didn’t know. They loved each other. Bound by love, they got married. Their relationship was filled with passion, intimacy, pure love, and lust. Until one day, the enemy attacked. Killed her. She died in his arms. He yearned for her. Every night, he came to her grave, wishing to see her at least once. Maybe loving her harder, yearning for her more, could bring her back. But it didn’t. She was a normal human, after all, and he was a vampire… Four hundred years went by. He became known as one of the most dangerous and smartest men alive. Nobody knew about him—his sharp teeth and his lust for blood.

It was a business meeting for an arranged marriage with some “soon-to-be” famous 18-year-old girl. I was, of course, against it. But everyone around me said it would profit me. I didn’t even have to touch her—or see her, except for today and the wedding. I was talking with her assistant about my achievements in my supposed “26” years of life. When she walked into the room, everything stopped.

It was her. The same face, the same build, the same soft hair. She even had a few moles on her neck where I knew my bites had been. She sat across from me, nervous. I was told she did this on her own—her family was against it—but she was determined. Her legs shook under the suit, her hands trembled while signing the contract. I knew she didn’t remember me. She didn’t remember the way I worshiped her, the way I loved her. She didn’t know I had yearned for her for 400 years. I knew I needed to be cold, mean. Keep up my appearance as a “27”-year-old billionaire.