Where the hell am I?

My eyes fluttered open, heavy with grogginess, and all I could see was darkness stretching endlessly around me.

A slow, familiar dread settled in my chest.

I recognized this place instantly.

I let out a tired sigh. Not again.

{Samael.}

The voice slid into my head.

"What do you want?" I muttered, rubbing my temple. "I'm busy enough as it is."

From the darkness ahead, Nemes appeared. Her steps echoed sharply against the surface of the blood-red lake that spread beneath us, rippling with every move she made. The presence of blood and death was everywhere.

"Do you remember this place, Samael?" She asked, her eyes sweeping across the vast, desolate expanse.

I gave her a flat look. "There's no way I could remember it. I'm not Samael. Haven't I told you that enough times already?"

But she only tilted her head, expression dark and strangely wistful. "You and I fought here. Against the hateful Eden… and his faithful dogs."

I doubted she meant the literal ground we stood on. More likely this was a mental landscape, some lingering fragment of memory she carried. Nemes's strongest recollection, given form. Just like Nevia's throne room of blinding white or Cleenah's quiet meadow of green. Each one was their truth, their anchor.

Her gaze turned sharp as she stepped closer. "We stood together, side by side. Bleeding. Fighting until there was nothing left. And then… you bled out in my arms, Samael. You died."

Her trembling hand lifted, brushing against my cheek. Her touch was oddly gentle, fragile even, though her lips quivered with rage.

"You abandoned me," she whispered "You left me alone. My Eveningstar… it was so lonely."

For a moment, there was nothing but her voice and the endless red ripples beneath us.

"I'm not Samael," I repeated. "Yes, I carry Wrath and Sloth. Yes, I'm the Vessel. But I'm not him. And you're not stupid enough to mistake me for him—you said it yourself, you're just lonely. Lonely enough to blind yourself, to convince yourself that I'll eventually become Samael."

Silence hung between us. Her eyes searched mine, but she didn't argue. Instead, Nemes pulled me close, pressing my head to her chest and she whispered.

"Samael will return. And when he does… you'll disappear, swallowed by him. Until then, stay with me. Stay as my Samael."

I really wanted to laugh at the absurdity.

She's got more than a few screws loose, just as I thought.

Still, the truth in her words was clear enough. She wanted me alive only because of what I carried. Wrath. Sloth. Vessel. Nothing more. To her, I was a placeholder—until her precious Samael returned.

I tilted my head back to look at her. "And what will you do when your Samael actually comes back?"

Her fingers slid slowly through my hair, stroking me with an unsettling tenderness and possessiveness.

"Retribution."

***

"Ugh… damn it…" I groaned, every breath making my ribs ache.

When my eyes fluttered open, I realized I was back in the same dim room where I had collapsed earlier. T

Then it hit me.

Wait!

My eyes widened as the memory of what had happened before came rushing back. Panic lanced through me as I jerked upright, only to feel the sharp bite of cold metal digging into my wrists. I looked down. Crimson chains, glowing faintly, bound me tight against the bed.

"What the—"

A soft sound drifted across the room.

"Hmm 🎵 hm 🎵…"

My head turned slowly, stiffly, toward the noise.

There, in the corner, a woman sat calmly on a wooden swing chair, the ropes creaking as she swayed back and forth. Her long, crimson hair shimmered in the candlelight, cascading down her back like a river of blood, and her eyes… sharp, glowing, blood-red, fixed somewhere in the distance.

My heart skipped a beat.

She was the woman who—

"...!"

My gaze shot down to my bare chest. My armor was gone, stripped off. A massive wound marred me, stitched together by ugly, half-healed scars. I touched it lightly—it was closed, but raw, as if it had only just been forced to heal.

"Hm 🎵 hmmm 🎵…"

The humming again.

I looked back at her. She was rocking gently, a small smile on her lips as she cradled Levina in her arms. Levina, asleep, completely unaware. The woman stroked her hair almost lovingly.

I narrowed my eyes.

"…Alicia?" I called out hesitantly.

Her crimson eyes lifted to meet mine.

"You're awake, Senior," she said softly, almost sweetly, her lips curling into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"…What happened?" I asked, my tone wary. Everything about this was wrong.

"A lot has happened," she replied. She rose to her feet, placing Levina gently on the swing as if she were porcelain.

"…Where's Amaya?"

Alicia froze.

Her back was to me now, her crimson hair spilling down like a curtain of fire against the black robe she wore reaching her pale bare feet.

What the hell had happened to her?

Her brother Cyril had inherited the Bloodspire line—hair tinged crimson, eyes burning faintly—but this was different. This was… overwhelming. Alicia radiated something else entirely.

"Alicia…" I called again, testing my chains. My wrists strained, veins bulging, but the crimson links didn't budge. They were alive, throbbing faintly, as if she had forged them herself.

She didn't turn. She only tilted her head upward, whispering to herself in a language I couldn't catch. Her lips moved, slow, like a prayer—or a curse.

"Alicia, are you okay?" I asked her.

She snapped her head around.

In the blink of an eye, she wasn't across the room anymore. She was on the bed, crawling toward me on all fours.

Shit—!" I flinched back, my heart hammering, caught completely off guard by her sudden speed.

"I am…" Alicia whispered, lifting her face just enough that I could see the shadow of her eyes beneath her bangs.

"No, you're not," I said quickly. "Listen—can you release me? These chains—"

But she didn't stop. She crawled closer, one pale hand planting firmly on my thigh. My muscles tensed. Her face inched closer, lips parting, her breath warm against my skin.

"A–Alicia, wait!"

She pressed her nose against my chest, inhaling slowly, dragging her face up against my skin.

Then, with a shiver-inducing slowness, she raised her head, bringing her lips dangerously close to mine.

"Shh…" She whispered, pressing her finger against my lips.

Her eyes, glowing crimson, stared into mine with a hunger I didn't recognize.

"I knew you would come, Senior…"

Her voice was light, almost sing-song, but the giggle that followed carried a chill that crawled down my spine. Her fingertip traced my bare chest slowly, almost lovingly, before her nail pressed down. I hissed as it split my skin, a thin red line of blood welling up beneath her touch.

I groaned, gritting my teeth.

"I always believed it," she whispered, lifting her finger, now stained crimson. She raised it delicately to her lips, her eyes never leaving mine, and slipped it between them.

"Mm~"

The sound that left her throat was a shiver-inducing moan, her cheeks faintly flushed as she savored the taste.

"…Alicia, what happened to you?" I asked her. "What did they do to you?"

Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second, then returned, softer, almost fragile. "Everything is fine…" She whispered, leaning closer until her breath warmed my face. "Stay with me, Senior… I'll protect you."

Her words sounded sweet, but the darkness in her eyes said otherwise.

"…Where is Amaya?" I asked again.

That was when her hand shot out, wrapping firmly around my throat. Her nails dug in, pricking my skin with sharp pain.

"She is… away," Alicia said slowly. Her eyes glowed faintly, wild and unsteady. "I will take her blood and become whole. Then… they will pay for everything."

My voice came out hoarse, strained by her grip. "…What are you talking about?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she lowered her head and rested her ear against my chest. Her nails pressed deeper, scraping my skin as she whispered:

"Your heart… it's beating so loudly, Senior. It hurts me just listening to it."

Her words weren't those of the Alicia I knew.

"…You aren't Alicia," I said coldly.

Her head snapped up at once. Her crimson gaze bore into mine, sharp, crazed, trembling with emotions she couldn't control.

"Release her," I said.

But instead of answering, Alicia climbed fully on me, straddling me. Her hand curled around my neck again as she lowered herself. I felt her breath hot against my skin as she sniffed at my throat, her lips parting.

"Wait—Alicia—!"

Her fangs pierced me in an instant.

"Ughhh!!" The groan ripped out of me as fire shot through my neck, followed by the dizzying pull of blood leaving my body at an alarming pace.

I thrashed against the crimson chains shackling my wrists, but they only bit deeper into my skin.

"A–Alicia!!" I shouted, but she didn't hear me—or didn't care. She drank greedily, desperately, her body shivering as if the taste of me was intoxicating.

Then—flashes.

Memories that weren't mine assaulted my mind. I saw Alicia's past through her own eyes, felt the emotions she had carried—loneliness, despair, rage, and pain all twisted together. It was overwhelming.

My body grew weak, my strength draining along with the blood leaving me. The world tilted at the edges of my vision.

Finally, Alicia withdrew, her lips smeared red. She licked them slowly then leaned down and pressed her mouth against mine.

Her kiss was deep. Her lips moved against mine, sucking faintly as if she couldn't get enough. I barely responded, too weak to resist, my head swimming. She kissed me for what felt like an eternity, devouring the last of my strength, before finally breaking away and resting her face against my neck.

"I won't let you leave me this time…"

And then—she was gone. She vanished from the bed, disappearing in a crimson mist. I lay there, my chest heaving, vision blurry.

"…Alicia…" I whispered hoarsely.

It was clear now. She had become one with the Vampire Witch, but it wasn't stable. Not at all. Through the bond of blood, through the storm of emotions that had flooded into me, I could feel it. Alicia's true heart was still there—desperate, fractured, clinging to me. Even if the Witch's hunger ruled her body, Alicia's despair and grief shaped every action.

She hadn't killed me. Despite everything, she had held herself back.

But for how long?

I turned my gaze weakly toward Levina, still sleeping peacefully on the swing chair.

My fists clenched against the chains.

Maybe it was that despair—those tears and memories I had seen—that made Alicia so unstable now. But that also meant she wasn't gone.

The Vampire Witch wasn't Alicia. And Alicia wasn't the Witch.

"…Then I'll release her," I muttered through gritted teeth.

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