A Curse written in blood

Chapter 5

I walk away as fast as my legs will take me, almost breaking into a run.

My chest tightens for no reason. There’s something about that man—something that grips me in a quiet, terrifying way. I barely know him, no, I only met him moments ago. Yet every part of me feels restless, as if my body is warning me before my mind can catch up.

When I reach my room, I slam the door shut and lean against it, breath coming in short bursts.

My heart won’t slow down. It just keeps pounding.

Who is that man? Why does his face feel so… familiar?

“Have I seen him before?” I whisper, pacing in small circles. My fingers clutch at my chest, trembling. The memory hovers near, close enough to touch—but no matter how hard I try, it slips away like smoke.

Then I hear voices from outside. His voice. Deep, smooth, unsettlingly calm.

Riftan. That’s the name my mother used. Even the way she said it makes me uneasy—like there’s a history between them that I was never meant to know.

I press my ear to the door. His tone is soft, almost gentle, but there’s an edge beneath it—cold, dangerous.

“It’s fine,” he says. “I only wanted to see her. But Nura, my time is running short. My body needs her blood. My strength won’t return completely until I taste her purity again.”

My breath catches.

My blood?

I press both hands over my mouth to stop the sound that wants to escape. My knees give way, and I slide down against the door, my heart is beating too fast. What does he mean by that? Who is he—really?

Third POV

Nura met Riftan’s gaze, her brows pulling together slightly.

“My Lord,” she said quietly, “will drinking her blood truly restore your strength?”

“Yes.” Riftan’s reply came low, edged with something that almost sounded like need. “I need her blood. Can you make her agree to let me bite her?”

There was a flicker in his eyes—hunger held in check, tangled with something darker.

Nura hesitated, then slowly shook her head. “It won’t be easy to earn her trust, Lord Riftan. But…” she lifted her chin, a faint, knowing smile touching her lips, “I might have another way to get what you need.”

Riftan’s gaze sharpened. “Are you certain?”

His tone was soft, but it cut clean through the air like a blade.

“Completely,” Nura replied without flinching. “Her mother and Lyra both trust me. They won’t question a thing.”

Riftan’s expression eased into a smile that was anything but kind. “Good. Then I’ll wait for your word.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

He turned toward the door, his steps slow and deliberate. “I’ll return in a week,” he said, pausing just before he disappeared into the dark. The faint gleam in his crimson eyes caught the dim light. “By then, I expect her blood to be ready.”

Nura bowed deeply, her eyes following him as his shadow slipped away—quiet, like the night swallowing him whole.

Lyra POV

The next morning, I wake earlier than usual, though I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s the sunlight sneaking through the curtains—soft, golden, and warm against the edge of my bed. I drag myself up, slipping into a white tank top and worn jeans, then lace up my favorite sneakers. Nothing special, but the girl staring back at me in the mirror looks… alive. Almost like she’s ready to start over.

I grab my navy-blue blazer and sling bag, inhale deeply, and head downstairs.

The dining room feels different today—quieter, almost too quiet. The usual chaos from my little siblings is gone. Their chairs sit empty, plates untouched. A small frown forms before I even notice it.

Then, behind me, my mother’s voice.

“Morning, sweetheart.”

I turn to see her standing by the counter, calm as always, a faint smile on her face.

“Where’s everyone?” I ask, tearing off a piece of bread.

“They’re out back,” she says softly. “I made breakfast for them earlier. Are you heading out early again?”

“Yeah.” I nod, reaching for my glass of milk. “There’s a seminar this morning. I need to meet my team before class.”

She hums a quiet note, the kind that trails off mid-thought. “Just don’t come home too late, okay? Oh, and Lyra… do you have time tomorrow?”

I pause, glass halfway to my lips. “Tomorrow? I only have an afternoon class. Why?”

“I want to take you to the hospital.”

My hand stills. The glass lands with a soft clink on the table.

“The hospital?” I echo. “Why? Is someone sick? Are you—?”

Her smile falters. Just barely. But I see it.

And somehow, the quiet morning feels heavier than it did a moment ago.

The air in the living room feels oddly calm that morning—too calm. Something about it makes my skin prickle.

“Not for that, sweetheart,” my mother says with a soft smile. “I just want you to join the blood donation event tomorrow. You’ll go, won’t you?”

I blink, unsure if I heard her right. “Blood donation? Since when do you care about things like that, Mom?” My tone slips sharper than intended. “You hate hospitals. You couldn’t even look at blood after… that incident.” I hesitate, memories pressing at the edge of my mind. “You’d lock yourself in your room if you saw even a drop of it. What changed?”

Her smile doesn’t waver, but there’s something about it—too gentle, too deliberate. “Mom’s just trying to be more open-minded now. So yes, you can donate freely. I’ll come with you tomorrow.”

I stare at her, trying to read her eyes. They don’t tell me anything. “Okay,” I murmur. “If that’s really the reason. I just thought it was a little strange, that’s all.”

She laughs quietly. “You and your suspicions.”

Her voice sounds normal, but something inside me doesn’t believe it. I force a small smile anyway. “Maybe I’ve just been overthinking lately. Oh, right—about that man from yesterday…” My chest tightens as the image of him flashes in my head. “Who was he, Mom? I swear I’ve seen him before. But when I looked at him… I felt scared.”

Her body stiffens for a split second. She tries to hide it, but I notice.

“Oh, him?” she says softly. “He’s just an acquaintance. A very important one. Like I told you before, Mr. Rifftan is a kind man. He donated the land for this orphanage—your father’s dream. Because of him, I can still keep it alive.”

She pauses, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before adding, quieter this time, “So please, Lyra… watch your words next time, okay?”

Her tone is gentle, but something about it makes the room feel colder—as if her warmth is only an illusion, carefully crafted to hide what’s beneath.

Mom’s voice turns calm again, but there’s a weight in it.

“So next time, please be careful with your words, Lyra. I think you’re old enough now to be wiser toward people who have helped our family. Don’t make him feel offended like yesterday.”

I nod slowly, forcing a small smile. “Okay, Mom. I’ll be more careful. I don’t want to embarrass you again in front of him.”

I grab my bag, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “I’m leaving now. Bye, Mom—love you.”

She watches me go, her expression unreadable, then whispers under her breath, almost like a prayer, “I just hope… you’ll never doubt what’s coming for you, my dear.”

Her voice fades behind me as I step outside.

The bus ride feels long today. Ten kilometers from the station to campus, but my mind drifts far beyond that. I glance at the watch on my wrist, then stare out the window, watching the morning blur into motion.

And then—something catches my eye.

A man. Standing by the roadside. Dressed entirely in black. His hat pulled low, his face partly hidden behind dark glasses. Even from a distance, I feel it—the weight of his stare.

He’s looking right at me.