If I had another chance, I’d choose different paths in my life. Being a police officer had been my aspiration, my only goal since both my father and mother were officers. Hell, their parents were police officers too. But after seeing what went on behind closed doors, I wished I’d stayed oblivious to the fact that humans could be as cruel as wraiths—literal monsters that needed to eat humans in order to survive.

I stood there with my chest puffed out, listening as our district Captain gave his speech about the last operation we’d successfully completed. Negotiating with a crazed wraith, we’d managed to apprehend him and free the hostages. Instead of killing him on the spot, we’d chosen to take him in and put him in jail… which was just a ploy to gain the wraiths' trust.

We’d promised a better life for them, claiming that if they surrendered, we’d provide enough blood to survive and “reform” them into society. But there was a darker side to this so-called reform.

“So,” the Captain addressed the crowd, “wraiths shouldn’t be afraid. If you don’t want to become a monster, come to us. We can help you. No, we can’t cure you, but we can give you a second chance at life. We can fit you into society again. To all the wraiths listening, I repeat: come to us. We can help. We can protect you.”

“District Captain Helion,” a reporter called out. “Is it true that over 1,550 wraiths have been reformed? What’s the actual number?”

“I can’t give you that detail, ma’am. But it’s well over that.”

At least fifty reporters stood clustered at the base of the police station steps, looking up. Captain Helion stood at the entrance, behind a rostrum with two microphones angled toward him.

Helion’s uniform looked freshly pressed, his blond hair drifting slightly in the breeze. With his good looks and being as young as twenty four, he was the most popular District Captain in the city, which made media turnout higher than usual for these press conferences.

“Captain Helion,” another reporter chimed in, “is drinking blood enough for them? I’ve heard that wraiths can go mad if they don’t eat.”

“Wraiths are evolved vampires,” Helion explained. “You could think of them as carnivorous vampires. Their appetite is far greater than any vampire we know, so only large amounts of blood can satisfy their hunger.”

“Where do you get the blood for them?” the same reporter pressed.

“Mostly from volunteers, and we mix animal blood as well.”

“They can survive on animal blood?” someone else asked.

“Yes, but they need much more of it compared to human blood.”

“Captain. Helion, what happens if a reformed wraith commits a crime?”

“We’ll treat them like we treat any human. No extra punishments for being different.”

“Captain Helion, is it true that—”

“That’s all for today,” Helion cut in, his tone firm. “Thanks for the questions.”

Camera flashes went off as Helion gave a smile and turned, heading back into Kiruha District’s police station. Snow was lazily falling, and the setting sun cast a warm, golden hue over everything. It was a slow day. Nothing major had happened, and we hadn’t apprehended any wraiths. I wished every day could be as peaceful.

After Helion, I stepped inside the station, letting the double glass doors close behind me.

The interior felt like stepping into another era. Sleek metal walls lined the space, reflecting the soft glow of dim lights set into the ceiling. The lighting shifted throughout the day, matching the outside atmosphere. A long reception desk sat at the center, where an officer greeted visitors. Nearby, plush chairs and sleek couches were arranged in neat rows for those waiting. Hologram TVs hovered above, silently streaming the latest news reports, while vending machines in the corner offered snacks and drinks, emitting a quiet humming sound.

“Gave a good talk, huh?” Helion remarked, glancing back at me.

“Hmm.”

“Yesterday went well, too. Catching that wraith and freeing the hostages? Good job, C.”

“Yeah.”

“How’s Jane?” he asked, his focus shifting to the elevator ahead.

“She’s good.”

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“Glad to hear it. Take the day off, you deserve it.”

“Thanks, Cap.”

“No problem,” he replied, hitting the elevator button. “So, how’s life treating you?”

"Good."

"Everything okay with your mom? Is she any better?" Helion glanced over at me.

"Yeah, she’s better."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Let me know if something happens, C. I know some of the best doctors in West Antapolis."

"Thanks, Cap. I’ll let you know if her condition changes."

As the elevator doors slid open, he stepped inside, then paused. "Oh hey, yesterday was your birthday, right?"

"Yeah," I muttered, following him in. "Getting older."

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You’re nineteen for fuck’s sake, C. If you’re old, then I should be six feet under by now."

I grunted in response.

Helion leaned against the mirrored wall, pressing the button for the -7th floor. "Anyway—any new updates on that house you guys were scouting? Wraiths selling crack? Unbelievable."

"We’re still on it," I said, rubbing my eyes. "But before that, we’ve got to deal with the ‘Unforever’ group."

He let out a long, exasperated sigh, shaking his head. "Those idiots. Seriously, who believes that crap, C? Who? Some people are just straight-up dumb. That’s it. Dumb."

Unforever was a mess. A group that promised desperate people—those with terminal illnesses or no hope left—that they could become vampires and be cured from their diseases. What they didn’t tell them was that only royal vampires could properly turn humans. When regular vampires tried, the result was abominations—mindless monsters that attacked everything in sight.

I nodded absently, avoiding Helion’s gaze. My reflection caught my attention in the elevator mirror. I looked worse than a wraith. Sleep deprivation had carved dark circles under my half-open eyes, and my brown, wavy hair was a tangled mess from the wind outside, making it look like I’d just rolled out of bed.

Helion’s voice broke the silence. "Hey, C," he started, eyes fixed on the elevator door. "Do you really believe wraiths and humans can live in peace?"

I hesitated, rolling the thought around in my mind. "I don’t get paid to think."

He snorted. "Figures. I don’t know why I even bothered asking."

The elevator doors dinged open, and we stepped out, walking briskly through the dim hallway. We were deep underground on the -7th floor, where all the equipment was stored. The smell hit us first—a mix of dust, old cardboard, and faint chemicals. Shelves and boxes filled the large, cramped space, making it feel like a maze.

Navigating through the narrow pathways, we had to squeeze past stacks of supplies and shelves full of medical gear. At one point, we had to press ourselves flat against a wall just to get between a bookcase and the concrete surface.

Helion sneezed suddenly, breaking the silence. "Ugh, damn it. The dust!"

"Bless you, Cap," I offered as I ducked under a low-hanging shelf.

"Thanks, C. It’s the... du—" Another sneeze cut him off.

"It’s pretty bad down here," I agreed, keeping close behind him.

"We really need to clean this place up."

We carefully stepped over a stray box, and finally reached the end of the room. A single door stood there in the shadows, the numbers on the keypad glowing faintly. Helion pulled out his phone, flicked on the flashlight, and quickly entered a four-digit code. With a soft click, the door slid open just a crack.

Inside, the room was pristine and spotless, with white walls and floors that gleamed under the bright lights. One wall featured a one-way mirror, offering a clear view of the space beyond. To the left, a table held a coffee machine and a tray of store-bought cookies, still untouched. On the right, four long tables were arranged neatly against the wall, each with a computer station where scientists in white lab coats sat, quietly focused on their work.

As we entered, the scientists stirred, preparing to stand out of respect, but Helion waved them back down. He turned to me. “Coffee?”

“Yeah, with two sugars.”

He poured two cups and handed me one as steam curled up from the surface. We slowly moved toward the center of the room.

“You know,” he said, breaking the silence, “the first time I saw this place, I was horrified.”

I raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“But after learning what wraiths do to our kind… now, I think it’s justified.”

Behind that mirror was a holding area, a far less pristine space. Reinforced glass cages lined the far wall, each containing clusters of wraiths in ragged clothing, their faces hollow with despair. Overhead, pipes ran down into each cage from the ceiling. Officers stood guard in the corners of the room, their faces expressionless, hands resting on their holstered pistols. They were alert but motionless, eyes trained on the prisoners. The air on that side felt heavy, even from where we were standing.

“How many?” I asked, taking a sip of the coffee.

“167 in total,” Helion replied. “Half of them came willingly, hoping we could cure them.”

“Poor sods.”

“Shall we begin, sir?” one of the scientists asked, glancing up from his monitor.

Helion nodded. “Go ahead.”

A wraith inside one of the cages immediately began pleading. “Please! Let us go! We didn’t do anything!”

Another, holding a child close, cried out, “At least let my baby live! Please!”

Anger and fear filled the air as others began shouting.

“You tricked us!”

“Let us go!”

“I don’t want to die!”

“You promised us!” a wraith yelled. “You promised we could live together! We trusted you! We… we fucking trusted you! Monsters! Monsters!”

But their voices fell on deaf ears. As Helion and I stood there, coffee in hand, the system activated. From the pipes overhead, fire began to drip down, faint at first, then growing stronger. The screams that followed echoed through the room, sharp and desperate. I sighed, finishing my coffee as the wraiths were burned alive. Fire was their greatest weakness—and this was the most efficient way to exterminate them.

Within a minute, the flames ceased. Silence filled the space. Not a single wraith had survived. Their bodies lay crumpled in the cages, the stench of charred flesh lingering in the air.

“Good riddance,” Helion muttered, setting his cup down. “Now, C, let’s move on to the Unforever group. Understand?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“The system doesn’t detect any heartbeats,” one of the scientists reported. “All 167 have been cleansed.”

“Good,” Helion said with satisfaction. “Let’s hope we get even more next month.”

“Here’s hoping, sir,” the scientist replied.

I exhaled slowly. “I’m off then, Cap.”

He gave me a nod. “Take care of yourself, C.”

“You too, Cap.” I turned away, making my way out.