Seo Yu-na
The Sun — once the mortal enemy of vampires — now rose on the horizon as part of almost everyone's routine.
And that day — the most important of the year so far — its golden light seemed to herald more than just another dawn.
There were still purebloods, those whose flesh burned and disintegrated under the slightest ray of light.
For them, the Sun remained an immediate death sentence.
The others — hybrids, descendants, the adapted — had learned to live with daylight.
But that gift came with a price: they would never reach the same raw power as the purebloods.
And facing a pureblood, even today, bordered on madness.
The older they were, the more dangerous they tended to be.
They carried not only strength, but experience — and against that, speed, and power meant very little.
At Council gatherings, near-mythical figures often appeared alongside the families — not to intervene, but to mark their territory.
A silent display of power.
Sometimes, however, that silence broke — betrayals exposed, open provocations, tempers flaring before the session even began.
That morning, the Seo family mansion buzzed with preparation.
Even so, I needed something different — a moment alone with the Patriarch.
— I'd like to speak with the Patriarch.
— Name? — the man asked, lifting his eyes from nothing, as if I were some random intruder.
— Seriously, Jae-hyun? — I replied, already irritated.
— Name.
— Unbelievable.
— Never heard of anyone called that.
I rolled my eyes.
— Seo Yu-na. Want my ID too?
He raised his hands, mockingly.
— Relax. Just following protocol.
— Does he have a schedule or not?
— No, but... for you, the new heir, probably. I'll let him know.
— Finally.
His expression carried doubt — or amusement, maybe both.
He made the call, murmured a few words, and hung up with the same bored face as always.
— He said you can go in. But be quick.
— I just need five minutes.
As I walked down the corridor, irritation pulsed with every step.
Soon, I saw the Patriarch's glass office — discreet, but isolated by soundproof walls so dense that not even a vampire with the sharpest hearing could catch a scream.
Before I could enter, I noticed two figures inside with him — a man and a woman, both middle-aged, both strangers.
I waited, forcing myself to hide my impatience.
The Patriarch didn't tolerate curious looks or the slightest hint of spying.
He had already set someone to watch me in recent weeks; I didn't need to give him more reason.
When the couple finally left, I stepped in.
His smile greeted me — I couldn't return it.
— My Yu-na, — said the Patriarch, with his usual calculated calm. — What can I do for you?
— Good morning, Patriarch. I know you're busy. I'll be brief.
— Go on, my dear.
I took a deep breath.
— Why did you put someone to watch me?
His silence was heavy, like a blade still in its sheath.
— I do that with everyone. It's training for future hunters.
He leaned slightly forward.
— Besides... you must admit, you've been acting more active — and more suspicious — than usual.
— I thought my position had earned enough trust to not need that.
His eyes hardened.
— Listen, child. Don't question my methods. You're not heir yet. Not until the end of today's Council.
His voice sharpened.
— Don't think I can't replace you. I can — and I will, if necessary. Never underestimate me.
It thundered without raising in volume.
— No one is irreplaceable, Yu-na. Not even me.
— The family always comes first.
— I've been stabbed too many times to trust even my own shadow.
— If you've got nothing to hide, you've got nothing to fear.
I swallowed hard.
— Forgive me, Patriarch. It won't happen again.
He nodded, still unsoftened.
— Then tell me — why are you so restless lately?
— The city feels... too calm. Too quiet.
— Something feels wrong in the shadows.
— I've tried to find out, but... nothing. Either they're hiding it well, or there really is nothing.
He studied me for a long moment before answering.
— Excess caution is never wasted. But don't forget — the Seo clan has survived many councils before. We are prepared.
I didn't share his confidence, but only bowed my head.
— Thank you. I won't take more of your time. My apologies, sir.
— See you later... heir, — he said with a faint smirk. — Ah, one more thing, Yu-na...
After his final words, our conversation ended — but the unease clung to me like gum on a shoe.
Jae-hyun waited in the corridor.
— So? The old man gave you what you wanted?
— Don't call him that! If he hears, he'll rip your tongue out.
He shrugged.
— Didn't mean it disrespectfully. He's old. So, how'd it go?
— I don't owe you an explanation.
— Aish, you woke up grumpy, huh? What's the harm in telling me?
I ignored him. My mind was already drifting through suspicions. Not even Jae-hyun's whining could pull me back.
The Council would take place underground — at the very heart of Seoul.
That was no coincidence.
Built over centuries — alongside humans, in exchange for favors and blood — it formed an entire city beneath the human one.
Tunnels, bases, halls. A refuge for a civilization that could not live fully on the surface.
Few humans knew the secret. Those who got too close didn't live to tell.
At the center of it all rose the greatest structure — a colossal temple, built for one purpose: the Councils.
There, each family was allowed a limited entourage — the Patriarch, counselors, generals, warriors, a diplomat, and, when there was one, the heir.
More than that was considered a threat — or a warning.
The Seo family gathered in the mansion's main hall: Patriarch Min-ho, with his unreadable gaze; counselors Seo Joon and Seo Jia, veterans of countless meetings; generals Jun and Ye-jin, ready to improvise under pressure; warriors Yong, Hoon, Hae-un, Bo-ra, and Gyeong-hui — a balance between brute force and tactical mind — and the diplomat and my former master, Min-seok, older than the house itself, survivor of eras and treaties, and an old friend too.
My presence, as heir in announcement, completed the picture.
The trip was silent.
The Patriarch, the diplomat, and I shared the car. Not a word.
Perhaps strategy. Perhaps distrust.
Perhaps both.
My thoughts clashed violently. I didn't trust the city's silence — nor the Patriarch's.
When we arrived, the other families were already there.
The air reeked of tension. Suspicious eyes crossed at every corner.
More cars, more people than expected — considering the usual numbers per family.
The Council was about to begin — and deep down, I knew: nothing would go as planned.