The weight of Conrad’s words still lingered as the waiter returned to clear the remnants of our main course. I couldn’t shake the feeling of being pulled deeper into an intricate web, a game I didn’t fully understand yet. Sia, seated beside me, hadn’t spoken much since the start of the dinner. I couldn’t tell if it was caution or calculation that kept her quiet, but her eyes darted between Conrad and me, ever-watchful.

Conrad reclined with practiced elegance, lifting his glass of what I could only guess wasn’t wine. The crimson liquid caught the candlelight as he swirled it lazily, his eyes shifting to me like a hawk circling prey.

“You’ve been rather quiet,” he said to Sia, his tone warm but pointed. “I’d hate for my hospitality to feel… oppressive.”

Sia offered a small, tight-lipped smile. “Not at all. It’s been… enlightening.”

“Good,” Conrad replied, his smile deepening. “After all, conversations like this are rare. Don’t you agree, Kyon?”

I met his gaze, forcing myself to remain steady. “Rare, sure. But I can’t say I’ve figured out the point of it yet.”

Conrad chuckled, low and smooth. “The point, my dear boy, is understanding. You cannot hope to thrive in a world you barely comprehend. And I, well…” His smile turned sharper, fangs glinting briefly. “I enjoy peeling back the layers of potential in those who intrigue me.”

The waiter returned, this time with dessert. A pristine platter of intricately crafted confections—petite cakes, spun sugar, and rich chocolates—was set before us. Conrad gestured for us to help ourselves, but his own plate remained untouched.

As I reached for a piece of chocolate, my hand froze halfway. A door opened behind us, and the atmosphere shifted. I felt it before I saw it—a prickling sensation, as if the air itself had grown heavier.

Footsteps approached, measured and deliberate.

“Ah, right on time,” Conrad murmured, setting his glass down with a soft clink.

A man entered the room, middle-aged, perhaps in his early forties, with sharp features and a confident gait. I recognized him instantly—the human from the club. He’d been chatting with a female vampire that night, his animated gestures and wide-eyed curiosity standing out among the more subdued patrons.

He approached without hesitation, his eyes flicking to Conrad and then to me.

“This is Lucas,” Conrad said, gesturing for him to sit. “A willing participant in our little world.”

Lucas settled into the chair beside Conrad, his movements unnervingly calm. He looked at me with something like recognition, but there was no hesitation in his demeanor. If anything, he seemed… proud to be here.

“Lucas has been quite curious about the experience of immortality,” Conrad continued, his voice carrying a faint edge of amusement. “Haven’t you, my boy?”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Yes,” Lucas said, his voice steady. “It’s fascinating. To be part of something greater, something eternal…”

The way he spoke sent a chill down my spine. It wasn’t reverence; it was devotion.

Conrad leaned toward Lucas, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder. “And you’ve been most generous in your… contributions.”

Lucas smiled, his gaze unwavering. “It’s an honor, really.”

Sia shifted beside me, her fingers tightening on her fork. I could feel her tension radiating like heat, though her expression remained carefully neutral.

“Generous contributions,” I said, forcing my voice to stay even. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Conrad’s eyes gleamed, his smile never wavering. “Ah, there’s that sharp tongue I admire. But let’s not be coy, Kyon. You’re no stranger to this world, are you? Surely, you’ve felt the pull. The hunger.”

I clenched my jaw, my mind racing. He was baiting me, and I knew it.

“I’ve managed just fine without giving in,” I said, my tone clipped.

Conrad laughed softly, a sound as smooth as velvet. “How virtuous of you. But tell me, Kyon—have you ever killed someone?”

The question hit me like a blow. My pulse quickened, and I felt Sia’s gaze dart to me.

“No,” I said firmly.

“Not yet,” Conrad said, almost as if correcting me. He leaned back in his chair, his expression turning contemplative. “It’s an inevitable step, you know. Power demands sacrifice. To take a life is to claim your place in this world. It’s the ultimate act of dominance, the purest expression of survival.”

“I don’t see it that way,” I shot back, my voice colder than I intended.

Conrad’s smile deepened, his eyes narrowing. “No, I don’t suppose you would. But it’s only a matter of time. Even the most resolute eventually face the moment where survival outweighs morality.”

Lucas sat silently, his presence a silent testament to Conrad’s point. The room felt suffocating, the weight of Conrad’s words pressing down on me.

“I remember my first,” Conrad said, his tone almost wistful. “I was barely more than a fledgling, stumbling through the chaos of a world that seemed impossibly vast. He was a hunter—a mortal who sought to end my kind. And yet, in the moment of his demise, there was no hatred. Only… clarity. The understanding that his life was mine to take.”

He paused, letting the words sink in. “There is power in that clarity, Kyon. A freedom that comes from accepting what you are.”

I swallowed hard, my hands curling into fists under the table. “I’m not like you.”

“Not yet,” Conrad said again, his voice a low purr.

The room fell silent, the only sound the faint crackle of the fireplace. I felt trapped, the walls closing in around me.

And then, as if sensing the tension, Conrad turned to Lucas. “Perhaps we should offer Kyon a chance to explore his curiosity,” he said smoothly.

Lucas’s smile widened, and he shifted in his seat, baring his neck slightly.

“What the hell is this?” I said, my voice rising despite myself.

“A gift,” Conrad said, his tone calm and measured. “A chance to taste without consequence. Lucas is willing. Eager, even. Isn’t that right, my boy?”

“Yes,” Lucas said, his voice steady. “I want to help.”

The room felt impossibly small, the scent of blood faint but unmistakable. I could feel Sia’s tension beside me, her hand twitching as if she was ready to intervene.

“I’m not doing this,” I said firmly, standing abruptly.

Conrad’s smile didn’t falter. “No need to decide now,” he said, gesturing for me to sit. “But think about it, Kyon. The power you deny yourself is the power others will use to destroy you.”

I didn’t move, my chest tight with anger and something I didn’t want to name—fear, maybe.

And then, as if to punctuate the moment, Conrad clapped his hands lightly. The door opened again, and this time, a waiter entered carrying a small, gilded cage. Inside was a white rabbit, its nose twitching as it glanced nervously around.

“Perhaps something less… dramatic,” Conrad said, his gaze locking onto mine. “A first step, if you will.”

The rabbit’s eyes met mine, and my stomach churned.