A Curse written in blood

Chapter 2

As if I’ve just been released from a predator’s snare, I let out a shaky breath. I feel so releaved, but still confuse. I still can’t understand—how did I end up here, in this place, with that mysterious, handsome man?

My gaze drifts around the room, and that’s when I realize how strange it is. The bathroom looks nothing like the kind you’d find in an ordinary house—it’s too beautiful, too perfect. The bathtub gleams with a golden hue, and the glass shower reflects the warm light like crystal. Everything smells faintly of roses and something sweet I can’t name.

I undress slowly, not sure if I’m allowed to, then slip into the tub. The water hugs my skin, warm and thick with fragrant bubbles. For a moment, my body relaxes, as if every piece of tension is melting away. It feels… unreal, so good.

When I finally step out, I reach for the towel and wrap it around my body. That’s when I realize—my clothes are gone.

“What the… where did they go?” I whisper, scanning the floor. Look around, I’m sure I left them there. But they’ve vanished, replaced by something else—

—a gown. A red nightgown. Thin. Revealing. The kind of dress I’d never dare to wear, not even in my wildest dreams.

My throat tightens. “No way… am I supposed to wear this?” I mutter.

But what else can I do? Stay wrapped in a towel forever?

After a long hesitation, I finally put it on. The fabric clings to my skin, and I instantly regret it. I barely have time to think when...

Knock. Knock.

My heart jumps.I immediately looked toward the door, my whole body tense with anticipatio.

The sound comes from the other side of the door.

I open it hesitantly, stepping out into the room beyond. The air feels colder here, heavier. My cheeks burn. The gown feels too short, too thin—like I’m not wearing anything at all.

Then I see him.

He’s standing by the window, half-lit by the pale light from outside. His eyes—sharp and unreadable—are fixed on me. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t move. Just stares at me with that sharp gaze.

And I freeze.

My breath catches when his footsteps start approaching.

Slow. Unhurried.

Predatory.

I look down, unable to meet his gaze. My pulse is racing so fast it hurts. Then—fingers. His fingers. They tilt my chin up, forcing me to face him. His touch is warm… too warm.

My eyes meet his, and suddenly the world stops.

Those eyes—cold, endless, and hypnotic—drag me under, deeper and deeper, until I feel like drowning.

His face moves closer, breath ghosting over my skin. I don’t realize what’s happening until I feel it—

a sharp sting on my neck.

Pain.

Real, searing pain.

“A-ahhh—!” I gasp, trembling as his mouth presses harder against my skin. I can hear the sound—wet, terrifying—the sound of him drinking. My blood.

I try to push him away, but he’s too strong. The more I struggle, the deeper his teeth sink in. My vision spins, colors fading to black. I feel my strength slipping away with every pull.

“P-please… stop,” I whisper weakly, desperate. “Please…”

But he doesn’t. Not until I’m too weak to resist, too numb to care.What the hell is going on...

Then, finally, the pain fades.

He lifts his head. Blood glistens on his lips before he licks it away, slow and deliberate. His eyes darken with something between hunger and satisfaction.

“You’re mine now,” he murmurs, voice soft but terrifyingly calm.

A shiver crawls down my spine—then everything goes black.

⸻

When I open my eyes again, the ceiling above me glows faint blue under dim light. My mind feels heavy, my throat dry. Then memory hits me like a blade—his eyes, his fangs, the blood.

“He… he sucked my blood.” My voice trembles. “That man—he’s a bloodsucker.”

I bolt upright, panic flooding through me. I have to get out. Now.

But when I rush toward the door, my legs give out. I collapse, dizzy, weak—like all the life has been drained out of me. My body feels hollow, my throat burns with thirst.

Crawling, I spot a glass of water on the table. I drag myself toward it and drink greedily, gulp after gulp, until the last drop is gone. Slowly, my head clears. But my fear doesn’t.

“What is this place?” I whisper to no one. “Who was that man?”

Could he really be what I think he is? A vampire? No—that’s impossible. There’s no way a mythological creature like that exists nowadays. Those bloodsucking creatures, those immortals who hunt in the dark. But they don’t exist in real life, right?

Yes… that must be it! Those things only exist in stories. In my stories.

Wait…

My stories.

I freeze, my heart pounding faster.

“I wrote this,” I whisper. “I wrote him.”

My fingers tremble as I touch my neck. There—two small punctures, bruised and real.

“No…” I stumble toward the mirror, staring at the marks. “This can’t be happening.”