Viviane was sitting on the edge of her bed, her palm covering her face as it became her only support. Her room was a mess: everything floated in disarray, except the bed itself.
The cupboard was upside down, the table hovered beside her, and her books spun slowly, forming a silent ring that circled her like orbiting moons.
"Damn it, how long is she gonna lock me up here?" she murmured.
Time moved differently in Isolde's world. It could slow to a crawl or spin faster than reality itself. She couldn't hold it in any longer.
"And what about Seamus… Is he fine?" she continued, her voice quiet, broken.
She couldn't imagine what might've happened to her weak, powerless boyfriend in the hands of her psychopathic, control-obsessed mother.
"He must be so scared… and I can't be with him..." her voice began to tremble, "He can't do anything without me…"
But god, how she loved that about him. How pathetic he could be sometimes. It made her feel needed—like she could protect him, love him properly, with no competition from any woman or man.
However, now Isolde had taken control. And inside her, a storm of rage burned hotter than ever.
"I shouldn't have told her! I should've just hidden Seamus somewhere, kept him safe and alone! Fuck!"
She screamed, her nails digging deep into her cheeks as black blood began to flow from the torn skin.
"Stupid Viviane! Stupid Viviane! Stupid Viviane!!!"
She shrieked, scratching harder, over and over, until the skin began to peel away, raw meat and tendons exposed beneath.
But the wounds healed fast. The blood stopped. The flesh regrew, layer by layer, until the only thing left was the black blood smeared across her face like war paint.
Isolde would pay.
But just as silence swallowed her again, a low crackle echoed through the air. The television blinked to life in the far corner of the room.
It hadn't been there before. The screen buzzed and shifted with static, flashes of color, and noise flickering into something coherent.
Viviane turned slowly, her face still smeared with dried blood. Her chest rose and fell unevenly as her eyes locked onto the screen.
She could see Seamus, the love of her life, her soulmate.
Isolde was on top of him. Her lips dragging along his throat, her eyes closed in twisted bliss. His voice escaped in muffled gasps, enjoyed it very much.
Viviane stood still, as if the air had turned to glass around her. The only thing she could feel was rage.
A powerful, overwhelming rage as she started to scream like a monster. She threw the TV, then books, over and over again, but it didn't even budge.
Viviane could still hear the sound of skin slapping against skin. Seamus's cock buried inside her mother pussy as they moaned in unison, drunk on each other's pleasure.
As if Viviane were dead. As if the only thing on Seamus's mind was Isolde alone.
That shattered her.
There was nothing Viviane feared more than being unloved, forgotten, replaced, discarded without meaning. Left behind, once again.
Viviane's rage twisted into desperation as she looked at Seamus, who didn't even try to fight back. He enjoyed it. And she couldn't handle that.
Her tears came strong and wrong as she stared at the floor, hands covering her face.
"I was wrong. I thought he would still love me more than the others..."
Viviane had no choice but to bring Seamus into this house—to protect him, to hide him—because she didn't have the confidence to do all that.
The only thing she had been sure of… was his love for her.
"I was too naive. Too confident... It hurts. It hurts."
Now, the pain wasn't in her body, it clawed deep inside her heart, something she couldn't tear out no matter how she tried.
She wanted to hurt others. She wanted to hurt her mother. She even wanted to kill Seamus.
The rage inside her burned so violently, it felt like her whole body was turning into a furnace. Hurting herself wasn't enough. She wanted to burn until nothing remained.
"Seamus, why? Why are you betraying my love?"
Viviane's tears hit the floor with a hiss, eating through the marble like acid. Her howl tore from her throat as her head snapped back, eyes blazing red, her mouth glowing with the same eerie light.
From her body, red strings erupted like bleeding veins, slicing through the air. Fire poured from her skin, rushing along the strings, setting the room ablaze.
The evolution had begun.
***
"What is evolution, actually?" Seamus asked the system.
He had no idea how much time had passed in this strange mansion. All he did was sleep, eat, and have sex... It was as if he were being pampered, coddled into complacency. His mind had dulled.
Seamus's level now has up to fourteen, one more so he could evolve.
But for someone like him—who had always lived on hard mode—there was a constant voice echoing in the back of his head, warning him this was dangerous. He needed to act.
[Every vampire—newborn, young, or mature—must evolve their power.]
[The higher the evolution, the more control a vampire has over their abilities. New 'evolutions' of Blood Style skills can also be acquired.]
"Blood Style skill?" Seamus asked, intrigued now.
[Yes. The Blood Style has four Insignias:]
[Elemental Blood Style: Vampires who forge a bond between their blood and the raw forces of nature.]
[Psyche Blood Style: These vampires wield psychic blood arts. Their mind is their biggest power.]
[Mutation Blood Style: Their bodies are ever-shifting weapons; bones become blades, veins harden into armor, and many more.]
[Dominion Blood Style: They manipulate blood to control limbs, nerves, even entire bodies.]
Seamus rubbed his chin. "So that means I can evolve to one of four Blood Styles?"
[You are special, so—]
Before the system could finish, a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the mansion, followed by violent tremors that made the entire room shake like an earthquake.
The walls cracked. The ceiling groaned. Chunks of stone collapsed to the floor, revealing a gaping hole above, pitch black, like a void swallowing the light.
"What the hell is happening?" Seamus staggered to his feet, swaying as he made his way toward the door.
But outside, in the hallway, he saw it.
A monster.
Her glowing eyes were wide, and her mouth hung open in a distorted scream. Red strings whipped and slithered all over her body like living veins.
Seamus froze in horror. Because that monster was calling his name.