Chapter 8

Since arriving here, Song Yuhuan hadn’t once left her room at this hour.

There was no one on the first floor.

The lights were all on, so the house was bright enough, but there was still something eerily unsettling about it.

Song Yuhuan tried to figure out what was frightening her. When she couldn’t, she quietly reassured herself that it was probably just her imagination.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the reflection of herself and the maid in the polished ornaments. Her heart seemed to stop for a second.

Once she saw what it was, she calmly looked away.

It was just a reflection. The cloak was the creepy part.

Normal. Everything was normal!

She was scaring herself!

The maid followed behind Song Yuhuan, eyes fixed on her. The slight stiffness in her back and the deliberate calm of her steps were plain to see. Beneath the cloak, the maid’s lips curved upward.

There was no driver tonight. The maid drove.

Song Yuhuan sat in the car. Everything outside was quiet. There wasn’t even a bird calling. The whole world seemed to have been frozen in place, with only her and the maid still moving.

She tried to memorize the road on either side, but couldn’t. Everything looked the same.

And at some point, a fog had crept in.

Song Yuhuan couldn’t even make out the scenery anymore.

Her heart was racing. She wanted to talk to the maid, but couldn’t think of anything to say.

Song Yuhuan pinched her arm hard.

“What’s the temperature tomorrow?” she asked.

“Twenty-five degrees. A very pleasant temperature.”

The sound in the car helped settle Song Yuhuan’s nerves a little. “How much longer?”

“Not long, Miss. Don’t worry.”

It really wasn’t long. The car pulled to a stop three minutes later.

Song Yuhuan waited until the maid got out and came around to open her door.

The fog outside was even thicker. She could barely see her hand in front of her face.

She smelled the chill in the air, but even though she wasn’t wearing much, it didn’t feel very cold.

The ground beneath her feet was muddy and soft, as if it had been turned over often.

“Miss, let’s go,” the maid said.

Song Yuhuan stayed close beside her.

Something was strange.

As soon as they crossed an invisible line, everything around them seemed to become clear. A castle appeared before her.

Song Yuhuan pinched herself again.

It hurt.

It wasn’t a dream, but it felt like one.

She heard whispers.

Song Yuhuan strained to make out what they were saying, but couldn’t understand a word.

No. There was no one here.

Where were the whispers coming from?

Song Yuhuan looked around, then took a few steps forward, drawing closer to the maid.

The maid glanced sideways at her. “Miss, you’re shaking.”

“Am I?” Song Yuhuan said.

“Yes.”

Song Yuhuan clenched her fists, closed her eyes, and forced herself to calm down.

When they reached the castle entrance, the doors opened by themselves.

There were a lot of people inside.

The whispers Song Yuhuan had heard were coming from them.

They were all dressed in black robes. At the sound of the doors, they turned their heads in perfect unison.

Song Yuhuan didn’t have time to think about her hearing. The sight of all those synchronized movements made her clench her fists. Her fingernails dug deep into her palms, the pain reminding her to stay calm and clearheaded.

No one spoke. They simply moved aside in perfect accord, leaving a path.

The maid led Song Yuhuan through the crowd to the front.

A huge table stood ahead. It looked like a dining table, and strange patterns covered its surface.

There was light inside, but it was dim. Song Yuhuan tried to make out the pictures on the stained-glass windows in the distance but couldn’t.

The maid guided her to a seat. Only then did Song Yuhuan realize there were chairs.

The people behind her waited until she sat down before taking their own seats.

Why?

Song Yuhuan glanced at the maid beside her. The maid was staring forward without moving. Her hood hid her face.

Someone walked over and said something to the maid.

It was still a whisper. Song Yuhuan couldn’t understand it. The maid occasionally responded.

To Song Yuhuan, their conversation was like encrypted chatter. She couldn’t make out a single word.

She suddenly realized it might not be that they were speaking too quietly. The problem might be with her.

She couldn’t let anyone find out.

Fortunately, no one tried to speak to her.

From what happened next, it seemed a ritual was beginning.

The person who’d bumped into her at school that day appeared. He was unconscious.

What followed left Song Yuhuan’s mind even more muddled.

She felt sick, but managed to keep herself under control.

Song Yuhuan’s eyes were wide. She forced her foggy mind to watch, not missing a single thing from beginning to end.

Her hands were ice-cold.

She’d seen death many times and had been prepared for it.

But this was the first time she’d truly taken part.

They shared the blood among themselves.

No one brought her a cup. The maid wasn’t given one, either.

The two of them were the only outsiders here.

Song Yuhuan vaguely sensed the people around them looking at her through their hoods, but the maid blocked their view and soon led her away.

The drive back was quiet.

Song Yuhuan stared out the window, her mind hazy. She opened it and let the cold air blow over her. Gradually, she came around, and the nausea began to fade.

It was obvious now: everyone there had been a vampire.

Then what was she? What was the maid?

What did their strange, deferential attitude toward her mean?

Song Yuhuan leaned against the window frame and glanced at the rearview mirror. By chance—or perhaps not—the maid met her eyes in the reflection. She seemed to be smiling.

Everything that had happened tonight…

Song Yuhuan had a strong feeling the maid had arranged it all.