Irene tightened her grip even more on Carlo's hand.
Carlo felt a sharp pressure now, enough to make his eyebrows tense.
And then she spoke.
"Are you… perhaps… afraid?"
Her sudden question cut through the silence.
Both Carlo and the boy froze.
Carlo's eyes widened slightly.
His anger didn't fade, but curiosity slipped in, slow, confused, questioning.
The boy blinked.
Surprise flickered across his face for the briefest moment…
before he pulled himself back together, returning to that calm, unreadable expression.
He lowered his gaze a little.
"…Are you?"
She would be right, wouldn't she?
She should be afraid of me. Who wouldn't?
I attacked her. I hurt her. I made her bleed…
…And I drank her blood.
…
The boy's thoughts spiraled.
Blood…
That taste, sweet, warm, overwhelming
was that why he couldn't hold himself back?
His chest tightened at the memory.
But Irene's voice pulled him out of it.
"…I am."
The boy's eyes widened slightly.
Her answer brought him back into the present, grounding him.
She didn't stop there.
"But I won't run anymore," Irene continued, her voice trembling but steady.
"I know you're not going to attack me again… I hope you don't."
Her words were simple, but they carried something unexpected,
trust.
Not complete trust, but a fragile piece of it.
A small step toward him instead of away.
The boy stared at her, unsure how to process it.
The boy remained silent.
"…"
Irene took a small step forward, intending to move closer,
but Carlo immediately grabbed her arm, holding her back.
His grip wasn't harsh, but firm enough to warn her:
Don't go near him.
"It's fine," Irene said softly.
"He's not from this town."
Carlo's eyes flicked toward the boy again.
Even he could tell.
The stranger's face, his refined features, the quality of his clothing,
none of it matched anyone from the town.
Carlo couldn't recall seeing any child who looked like him.
Certainly not one of the local bullies who tormented Irene.
But still…
…
Irene shook her arm, slipping free from Carlo's grip with surprising ease.
Carlo's eyes widened, he hadn't expected her to pull away from him like that.
She stepped forward.
Slowly.
Her legs trembled, her breathing uneven… but she kept going.
She wanted to be brave.
"Can you tell me your name?" she asked.
The boy looked up at her.
Seeing her trembling body standing so close, choosing to approach him instead of run, something flickered in his expression.
"Are you… very scared of me?" he asked quietly.
What a strange question
Out of everything he could say
"I wouldn't be this close if I were,"
"…"
The boy stared at her, unsure, trying to understand her, his scarlet eyes reflecting confusion.
The boy didn't answer her question.
He stayed quiet, lips pressed refusing to speak his name.
Irene continued instead.
"You're not from this town."
"Does it matter?"
"No," she said, shaking her head. "But… I'm curious about you."
Curious?
Before the boy could respond, Carlo's voice cut in from behind her.
"Why did you attack her?"
Carlo still stood in the doorway, still blocking the exit with his body,
"It was an accident," the boy said.
"Accident?"
Carlo's tone sharpened again.
His anger hadn't faded, not completely
but now there was curiousity in it too.
He wanted answers just as much as Irene did.
Feeling the tension rising again, Irene spoke quickly.
"Your eyes… they're, "
"Red," the boy interrupted flatly.
"…Why did you, "
"Drink your blood? It's just my weird habit."
Drink her blood?
Carlo's eyes widened. He questioned what he had just heard.
"No," Irene said quietly. "Why did you attack me?"
"…"
The boy tensed.
He searched for a proper excuse
a lie, any explanation that would let him walk out of this without further trouble.
"As I said, it was an accident."
"Are you sure it was really just an accident?" Carlo challenged him.
Their gazes clashed again
Carlo's sharp and unyielding,
the boy's guarded and unreadable.
Then Irene acted.
She quickly reached out to grabbed the boy's hands.
The boy flinched, startled, yanking them back immediately.
"Your nails,"
Nails? Carlo echoed silently, confused.
"…What about them?" the boy answered.
"The sharp nails from before. They disappeared."
"You're imagining things," he responded, avoiding her eyes.
Irene lifted her arms.
The scratches from earlier had stopped bleeding, but fresh blood still clung to her skin, wet and dark.
The moment the boy saw it, blood
he reacted.
His eyes flickered.
A flash of bright red.
then dark.
then bright again.
His expression began to shift, the calm slipping away.
Irene's breath caught.
She sensed something stirring inside him and instinctively took a step back.
Carlo noticed it too.
His body tensed.
He was ready to move.
"…I'm really sorry, alright," the boy spoke. "I'll… pay you back another time."
"What are you saying?" Carlo shot back. "You think I'd just let you walk away?"
His voice hardened, sharp as a blade.
Irene stayed quiet.
Her eyes were fixed on the boy in front of her,
because he had begun to tremble.
Instinctively, Irene lifted her hand toward him,
a small, hesitant gesture, as if trying to steady him… or comfort him.
But the moment her hand drew close,
snap
The boy flicked her hand away, sharp and defensive.
His eyes locked onto her, glowing faintly.
"Don't touch me," he warned
"…Do not move."
"…"
Irene froze.
Seeing him tremble, she felt her own body begin to shake again.
Their fear seemed to feed into each other, neither knowing what the other might do next.
Suddenly, both Carlo and Irene felt it
a pressure tightening around their bodies.
A heavy, invisible force pressing down on them.
Even if they wanted to move,
their limbs refused to obey.
The boy was losing control again.
The sight of blood had awakened something inside him,
not fully,
but enough to shake the room.
"Don't… don't touch me"