Part 1: Quiet Morning
The apartment smelled like sugar.
And socks.
And something that might’ve once been popcorn, or possibly Suzu’s attempt at alchemy.
Candy wrappers glittered across the floor like tiny foil ghosts. A witch hat was draped over the lamp. Someone’s cape was on the kitchen counter. Rin suspected Suzu had worn it while making toast.
It was quiet — the sleepy kind of quiet that follows too much laughter.
Rin rubbed her eyes and pushed herself up from the couch. Suzu was asleep half on the rug, half on Mika’s arm, snoring softly. Mika lay flat on her back, staring at the ceiling with the hollowed-out calm of someone who’d woken up already and given up on moving.
Rin padded softly to the window.
Aurenya was there.
Sitting on the sill, knees drawn up, her cheek resting against the glass. Her hair was loose today, falling in soft waves down her back. And though she was in her younger form, there was something unmistakably grown about the stillness around her.
She glanced up when Rin approached.
“Good morning.”
Her voice was gentle — the kind that made Rin’s chest flicker in a way she didn’t want to examine yet.
Rin leaned against the wall near her. “You’ve been awake a while.”
Aurenya’s lips curved faintly.
“Vampires don’t sleep long after nights of… chaos.”
Rin smiled. “You enjoyed it.”
A soft nod.
“It felt like being… normal. Safe.”
Then quieter:
“I liked watching you laugh.”
Rin swallowed. Her cheeks warmed, and she hoped the lighting hid it.
“You could’ve laughed too, you know.”
“I did,” Aurenya said. “Inside.”
Rin snorted. “We’ll work on the external version.”
Behind them, Suzu groaned dramatically.
“Ughhh. Morning already? Mika, stop breathing. It’s too loud.”
“I’m literally not doing anything,” Mika replied, voice gravelly.
“Exactly! Keep it up.”
Suzu rolled over and promptly toppled off the rug, hitting the floor with a thud that made all four of them startle.
Rin shook her head, amused.
Aurenya hid her smile behind her sleeve — a soft, shy habit she’d picked up recently.
Suzu staggered to her feet like a new born deer.
“Okay — who wants breakfast? I can make eggs—”
Mika grabbed her wrist. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Why not?!”
“Because last time you made eggs they turned green.”
“It was a themed omelette!”
“It glowed.”
“It was festive!”
Aurenya leaned toward Rin.
“Do they always do this?”
Rin whispered back, “Every morning.”
Aurenya’s expression warmed — like she didn’t mind being here for any of it.
A Small Pause
The sunlight brightened, spilling soft gold across Aurenya’s face. It highlighted the faint shadows under her eyes, the soft tremble in her hands she hoped no one noticed.
Rin noticed.
She stepped closer, lowering her voice so only Aurenya heard.
“Are you okay?”
Aurenya hesitated — a fraction too long.
Then she nodded.
“I’m… trying to be.”
Not a lie. Not the whole truth.
Rin let her hand brush Aurenya’s — a fleeting, deliberate touch.
Aurenya’s breath caught.
And for a moment, in the quiet morning light, the world felt small enough to hold.
Breakfast Chaos
Mika eventually cooked, because someone had to.
Suzu tried to help by stirring the eggs and somehow created a vortex. Rin confiscated her utensils.
Aurenya sat at the table, listening to them bicker and bustle around her. The warmth in her chest was unfamiliar — not human, not vampire, something between.
A feeling she didn’t have words for yet.
Rin placed a plate in front of her. Aurenya looked up, meeting her eyes.
“Thank you.”
Their fingers brushed again.
Neither of them pretended it was accidental.
As the others argued over who spilled sugar across the counter, Aurenya glanced out the window.
A figure was standing across the street.
Still.
Watching.
She blinked.
Gone.
Her pulse thudded once, hard — the mark on her wrist tingling for just a moment before fading.
Rin saw the shift in her breathing.
“Aurenya? What’s wrong?”
Aurenya shook her head.
“Nothing. Just… morning.”
But her eyes lingered on the window a moment longer.
And this time, her reflection didn’t smile back.
Part 2: Strange Looks
School always felt a little harsher the day after something good.
Maybe it was the contrast — the noise of lockers, the fluorescent hum, the shoes squeaking on the polished floors. Or maybe it was the way Rin kept replaying last night in her head: Aurenya in the moonlight, in her adult form, asking Are you afraid of me?
And Rin whispering No.
Now the hall felt too bright, too sharp.
Suzu burst through the front doors like she’d been launched.
“Good morning, my children of despair!” she shouted, arms wide.
A teacher flinched.
Someone dropped their pencil case.
Mika sighed in defeat.
“Why are you like this?” Mika asked.
“Halloween energy, obviously.” Suzu leaned in and whispered, “Also I ate candy for breakfast. Don’t tell Rin.”
Rin raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t even ask yet.”
Suzu gasped. “You knew?!”
Mika smacked her gently with a notebook. “Everyone knows.”
Aurenya stood beside them, quiet, watching the chaos unfold like she was studying an unfamiliar but entertaining animal species. In her uniform she looked like any other student — except not at all.
Her presence had a subtle pull to it.
Like gravity.
A few students whispered when she passed.
Not loudly.
Not unkindly.
Just curious.
Aurenya noticed. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.
Rin stepped automatically closer to her.
Aurenya’s shoulders eased by a fraction.
In Class
Their teacher droned on about poetry forms, but Rin caught herself glancing sideways — at Aurenya’s calm posture, the way she held her pencil lightly, how her gaze softened every time she looked Rin’s way.
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
Half the class was pretending not to stare.
Suzu noticed too.
She scribbled on a sticky note, slid it to Rin without looking:
WHY IS SHE SO PRETTY TODAY?
Rin felt her face heat. She wrote back:
She’s always pretty.
Suzu read it, turned to Rin, then to Aurenya, then back again.
Slowly.
Meaningfully.
Suzu smirked like she’d just discovered a new species of scandal.
She scribbled:
OH. MY. GOD.
Aurenya tilted her head, confused by Suzu’s barely-contained excitement.
“Suzu,” Aurenya whispered, “is something wrong?”
Suzu choked on air.
“Nope!! Nothing!! Amazing!! Everything’s amazing!!”
Mika facepalmed.
The Glances
By lunchtime, the whispers had grown.
Something about Aurenya drew people’s eyes today — more than usual.
Rin wasn’t sure if it was her calmness, her grace, or the faint shadow of exhaustion under her eyes.
But students looked at her differently.
Not like she was strange.
Like she was luminous.
Aurenya hated it.
Rin saw it in the way Aurenya’s jaw stayed tight, the way she kept her eyes down, the way her breath hitched when someone stared a bit too long.
Rin nudged her gently.
“Hey. Come eat with us. It’ll be easier.”
Aurenya blinked once, like she was pulling herself back into her body.
“Yes. Thank you.”
At Lunch
Suzu was recounting her Halloween exploits at full volume, describing how she tried to scare a man dressed as a pumpkin and only succeeded in making him drop his fries.
Aurenya laughed softly — out loud, this time.
Everyone froze.
Rin stared.
Mika stared.
Suzu’s spoon dropped onto her tray.
Aurenya blinked, startled.
“Did I… do something wrong?”
Rin shook her head quickly.
“No. No, you— It’s just nice hearing you laugh.”
Aurenya lowered her gaze, shy but warm.
“I’m… learning.”
Then It Happened
Aurenya lifted her hand to brush hair from her face — and the sleeve of her uniform slipped up.
The mark.
Silver. Faint.
But visible in the sunlight.
Rin’s heart lurched.
She reached forward subtly, gently pulling the sleeve back down.
Aurenya froze.
Their eyes met.
Aurenya searched Rin’s face, fear flickering behind her composed expression — fear not of the mark, but of what Rin might think.
Rin whispered, steady and low:
“I’ve got you.”
Aurenya exhaled slowly, shaping a silent thank you.
But Suzu had seen the motion.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Hey Rin… is something up with her arm?”
Rin hesitated.
Aurenya went still.
Mika jumped in.
“Probably just a bruise. She tripped yesterday, remember? In the alley.”
Suzu nodded.
“Oh yeah! She did look kinda shaky.”
Rin caught Aurenya’s eye beneath the table.
Aurenya mouthed:
I’m sorry.
Rin shook her head softly.
You don’t have to be.
But as they left the cafeteria, a boy from Class 2B passed them — staring openly at Aurenya with a puzzled look, like he’d seen her somewhere before but couldn’t place where.
Like he was trying to match her to a different version of herself.
A different shape.
A different age.
Aurenya’s breath hitched.
Rin stepped between them immediately, shielding her.
The boy blinked, startled, and hurried off.
Aurenya whispered:
“Rin… something’s happening to me.”
Rin took her hand.
Not hidden this time.
“Then we’ll face it together.”
Aurenya’s fingers tightened around hers — the first time she’d ever held back.
Part 3: The Unravelling
The late afternoon sun stretched their shadows long across the pavement as they left the school gates.
Suzu was midway through a dramatic retelling of how she “nearly died” in PE — meaning she tripped over her own foot and did a perfect somersault in front of her entire class.
“I saw my life flash before my eyes,” Suzu declared. “Mostly snacks. And Mika yelling at me.”
“That sounds right,” Mika said flatly.
But the noise around them felt muted.
The world felt slightly off, like it was leaning in to listen.
Rin walked beside Aurenya, just a step behind the others.
Aurenya’s expression was calm, composed — but her steps weren’t as steady as usual. There was a faint drag in her gait, too subtle for most to see.
Rin saw it immediately.
“You’re slowing down,” she whispered.
Aurenya kept her eyes ahead.
“Just tired.”
Rin didn’t believe her. She had started to recognize the difference between Aurenya being tired… and something being wrong.
Aurenya’s hand drifted toward her sleeve, fingers brushing the hidden mark.
Her touch was light, as if the skin burned.
Rin stayed close.
A Flicker
They reached a quiet stretch of the street. Wind rattled through the trees.
And then Rin saw it.
Aurenya’s shadow — just for a heartbeat — didn’t move with her.
It lagged half a second behind, like something was deciding whether to follow.
Rin’s breath hitched.
Aurenya noticed the change in her expression.
“Rin?”
Rin reached out before she even thought about it, taking Aurenya’s hand.
Aurenya froze.
The warmth of Rin’s hand grounded her instantly, as if the world settled back into place.
Slowly — carefully — Aurenya laced her fingers through Rin’s.
Ahead of them, Suzu glanced back, saw the hand-holding, and immediately lit up with silent, explosive delight. She elbowed Mika so hard that Mika hissed.
“Suzu, what—?”
Suzu whispered loudly:
“They’re holding hands! Holding. Hands!”
Mika didn’t respond.
Her eyes softened, though.
And Rin didn’t let go.
At the Apartment Door
They stepped inside the apartment—Suzu kicking off her shoes in the most chaotic way possible.
“Home sweet home, my beloved universe of snacks!” Suzu announced.
“Stop yelling,” Mika sighed, already massaging her temples.
Rin moved to follow them—but Aurenya remained in the doorway.
Still.
Quiet.
Rin turned back.
Aurenya wasn’t looking at the others.
She wasn’t even looking at Rin.
She was staring at nothing.
Her eyes were distant, unfocused—like she was looking through reality instead of at it.
“Aurenya…?” Rin stepped closer.
Aurenya blinked, slow, heavy.
Her voice came out too soft.
“I don’t feel… here.”
Rin’s chest tightened.
“How long have you felt like this?”
Aurenya swallowed.
“…I don’t remember.”
Rin took her hand again—this time without hesitation.
“Let’s go inside.”
Aurenya nodded faintly.
The Mirror
As they stepped fully into the entryway, Aurenya’s reflection shimmered in the hall mirror.
Rin didn’t notice at first.
But then Aurenya turned her head…
…and her reflection turned a fraction late.
Just enough to make the air feel colder.
Rin’s breath caught.
She turned toward Aurenya—
And saw her eyes flicker that faint, haunting crimson.
Aurenya swayed.
Rin rushed forward just as Aurenya’s knees buckled.
She caught her around the waist and braced her against the wall.
Aurenya gripped Rin’s arm desperately, fingers trembling.
“Something’s wrong with me,” she whispered, voice cracking.
“And I don’t know how much longer I can control it.”
Rin didn’t flinch.
“Then I won’t let you face it alone.”
Aurenya looked at her like those words were a lifeline.
Her gaze softened into something warm, vulnerable, and afraid.
She opened her mouth—
And stopped.
A sound broke through the apartment.
The Sound
A soft, sharp thud.
From Aurenya’s bedroom.
Both girls froze.
Rin spoke first, barely above a whisper.
“Was that—?”
Aurenya’s expression changed.
All softness evaporated.
Fear settled cold and quiet along her features.
“I didn’t leave the window open.”
The lights above them flickered once.
Twice.
Then settled into a faint, unnatural hum.
Rin tightened her grip on Aurenya’s hand.
And together—
They stepped toward the dark hallway.
Fade out.
Part 4: What’s in the Room
The hallway felt longer than it ever had before.
Rin kept one arm around Aurenya’s waist, steadying her with gentle pressure. Aurenya leaned into her without protest, breath unsteady, eyes unfocused — like she was fighting to stay anchored in the version of herself Rin knew.
Every few steps, Rin felt Aurenya tremble.
Not fear.
Not exhaustion.
Something deeper.
Something fraying.
The apartment behind them was unusually quiet — even Suzu and Mika had gone still, sensing something was wrong. Aurenya’s room door stood at the far end of the hall, closed but faintly humming with unease.
Aurenya stared at it with a haunted look.
“Rin…” she whispered. “I don’t… feel fully here.”
Rin squeezed her hand.
“Then I’ll keep you here.”
Aurenya swallowed hard, as if those words alone pulled her back into her body.
The Door
Rin reached out and turned the handle.
The door creaked open.
Aurenya tensed behind her, but Rin stepped forward first — protective instinct overriding all fear.
Nothing was out of place.
No broken window.
No disturbed objects.
No intruder.
The air was cold, though — unnaturally so.
The light felt wrong, dimmed at the edges.
On the floor, near Aurenya’s bed, lay her notebook.
Open.
Rin moved toward it slowly, Aurenya hovering behind her like a frightened shadow.
The notebook wasn’t where Aurenya had left it.
She never left it on the floor.
Rin crouched.
Her breath caught.
A message filled the page, each letter cut sharply into the paper:
YOU LEFT HER.
Aurenya went utterly still.
Her breath hitched.
Then another.
Then broke into pieces.
“No…” she whispered, voice cracking. “No, no, I didn’t— she was already—”
Rin rose and turned toward her.
Aurenya’s face was pale, eyes wide, shimmering with fear and grief all at once. Her adult form flickered over her like a shiver of light and shadow — her outline sharpening, fangs extending just a little before she forced them back.
She wasn’t transforming out of hunger.
She was transforming out of pain.
Aurenya Breaks
Aurenya stumbled backward and sank onto the edge of her bed, hands shaking violently.
“She was dead,” Aurenya whispered. “My lover— she was dead when I found her. I didn’t leave her. I didn’t—”
Her voice splintered.
“Why would it say that? Why would I… write that?”
Rin knelt in front of her, taking both of Aurenya’s hands firmly between her own.
“Aurenya. Look at me.”
Aurenya shook her head, tears streaking silently down her cheeks — the tears of her adult form, shimmering faintly in the dim light.
Rin cupped her face gently.
This time, Aurenya obeyed.
Her eyes locked with Rin’s — crimson trembling at the edges, terrified and soft all at once.
Rin’s voice was low, grounding, certain:
“You didn’t write that.
You didn’t cause that sound.
You are not losing control because you’re dangerous.”
She brought her forehead to Aurenya’s.
“You’re losing control because you’re hurting. And you’ve been hurting alone for too long.”
Aurenya trembled.
Then the walls around her broke.
She leaned forward, collapsing into Rin’s arms with a quiet, broken breath. Rin held her tightly, anchoring her, grounding her, refusing to let her drift into the darkness curling at the edges of her magic.
“I’m not leaving,” Rin whispered. “I’m right here. I’m not leaving you.”
Aurenya clung to her like she believed her.
Like she needed to.
The Fading Words
When Rin finally glanced back at the notebook, she froze.
The harsh lettering had softened.
Not like ink drying.
Like smoke dissolving.
YOU LEFT HER
blurred
faded
and vanished.
Aurenya saw it too.
She whispered, almost too quiet to hear:
“I think… part of me wants to punish myself. For surviving.”
Rin pulled her closer again, one hand stroking the back of her head gently.
“Then I’ll help you fight that part.”
Aurenya closed her eyes, resting her forehead on Rin’s shoulder.
“I’m afraid, Rin.”
“Then be afraid with me,” Rin murmured. “Not alone.”
They stayed there on the floor — the human girl holding the trembling vampire girl — in a small room filled with fading shadows and disappearing words.
Neither of them moved until the cold finally eased and Aurenya’s shaking slowed.
The final quiet thought lingering between them:
Whatever was haunting Aurenya — whether memory, magic, or something in between —
Rin wasn’t going to let it take her.
Not now.
Not ever.
Aurenya sat.
Rin pushed the second mug toward her.
“I tried to make it like you like,” Rin said. “Or… how I think you like. I’m kind of guessing.”
Aurenya lifted the cup with both hands, holding it close for warmth.
“Thank you.”
Rin didn’t push.
Didn’t question.
She just waited in that gentle, patient way that made Aurenya want to lay down every piece of armor she had left.
Aurenya stared into the tea.
“I… don’t remember everything from last night.”
Rin nodded once.
Not surprised. Not tense.
“Want me to tell you?”
Aurenya took a breath.
“Yes.”
Rin kept her voice low, steady.
“Your notebook fell. When I picked it up, there was writing in it. Not yours. Something sharp. Almost carved. It said—”
Aurenya’s throat tightened.
Rin continued gently.
“—‘You left her.’”
Aurenya’s fingers tightened around the cup until her knuckles went pale.
She whispered:
“I didn’t leave her. She died before I escaped. I didn’t want to go. I just… didn’t want to die too.”
Something cracked in her voice.
Rin reached across the table, slowly, giving Aurenya time to pull away if she needed to.
Aurenya didn’t.
Their hands met.
Rin’s grip was warm, solid.
Anchoring.
“I know you didn’t leave her,” Rin said. “I believe you.”
Aurenya’s eyes softened, shimmering with something like gratitude.
And something like fear.
“Rin… I think it was me. A part of me. I think I’m doing things I don’t remember.”
Rin’s thumb brushed over her knuckles.
“Or maybe it’s the part of you that’s hurting the most.”
Aurenya swallowed, throat tight.
“I’m… scared.”
Rin answered without hesitation.
“I’m here.”
Aurenya exhaled shakily and lowered her gaze.
“Why are you so kind to me?”
Rin’s lips curved, small and sad.
“Because I know what it looks like when someone almost breaks.”
Aurenya looked at her—really looked at her.
And something inside her softened in a way that felt dangerous and necessary all at once.
Silence. Warm. Heavy. Honest.
Aurenya sipped the tea.
Rin watched her, eyes thoughtful but warm.
The apartment was quiet, lit only by the faint early light through the curtains.
It felt like the world had shrunk down to this small table.
Two mugs.
Two tired hearts.
And an unspoken connection neither of them fully understood yet.
Aurenya whispered:
“Thank you for staying with me last night.”
Rin shook her head softly.
“I didn’t stay with you,” she said, voice steady.
“I’m staying.”
The words landed like a promise.
And for the first time that morning, Aurenya breathed without shaking.
If something in it stayed with you — a moment, a line, or even just the mood — I’d love to hear what.
ko-fi.com/youngieii
