“I often have this dream.”
In the dream, I recall those days when humans experimented on me.
Pure white drowns me, the cold metal floor seeping through my bare feet into my marrow. The light from above is harsh and piercing, forcing me to squint against the burning pain in my eyes.
Muffled voices always reach my ears, as if coming from deep underwater or through thick glass.
Back then, I could never make out full sentences, only catching cold words after waking.
“Sample compatibility”
“First tolerance test”
“Pain threshold detection”
These icy terms tear at my remaining consciousness…
In the dream, I am often strapped to a cold metal chair. Any struggle triggers shrill alarms, bringing even harsher restraints.
In every blurred memory, shadowy figures appear in my vision—wearing white uniforms, holding instruments that gleam with cold light.
I cannot see their faces, only glimpsing in the reflection of a metal tray a curled-up, shivering silver-haired girl.
The air is always thick with the sharp smell of disinfectant and a faint… sweet, metallic tang.
Those are the times I least want to remember.
The times I fear most.
And the reason I hate humans…
Then, pain surges like a tidal wave.
I feel cold needles piercing my skin, consciousness forcibly stripped away, some agony tearing at my soul.
Fear, suffering, despair envelop me. Crying or begging only invites harsher punishment.
But in this despairing pure-white hell, it is not entirely darkness.
In the dream…
In that one remaining blurred memory…
A girl… enters this painful white hell.
And then… grants me “salvation.”
She is a girl, appearing younger than me, yet with eyes far tougher than mine.
We wear the same white experimental clothes, the oversized fabric making her look even smaller.
But in my feelings, in that instinct beyond memory… she is the strength that keeps me alive.
For some reason, I feel she is like my big sister—an existence I would follow with everything, look up to.
She is my only light in that white hell, my only solace, the sole reason I pull back from the brink of collapse time and again.
Yet in the dream, she is always “blurred.”
Her voice, her face, the warmth of her palm… I remember none clearly.
But whenever that blurred figure appears in the dream, I feel… my long-frozen heart in my chest begin to pound wildly again.
Not from fear, but from a near-“pathological” throbbing.
In the dream, she always gently strokes my hair, with those unseen eyes and a hazy, unfamiliar yet tender voice, softly saying.
“Don’t… be afraid… Big sister will… protect you.”
Protect me?
How laughable.
She is clearly smaller than me, clearly trembling herself, yet always trying to shield me.
But it is that foolish bravery that makes me irredeemably fall.
In those days drowned in pain, she is my only light. I greedily absorb every bit of warmth she gives, every glance, every word of comfort.
When she hugs me, when she touches me—even in the dream—I can clearly feel my heart truly beating.
When she smiles at me, I want to offer her the entire world.
“I protect you like my little sister.”
She always says that in the dream.
But I never dared tell her.
I never simply saw you as a sister.
This feeling has long surpassed sisterly affection, surpassed dependence—becoming a fervent faith.
She is my only salvation when on the verge of collapse, the only warmth I can feel in endless darkness.
This fervor, this obsession, makes me in the dream desperately want to hold you in my arms.
But I don’t dare…
I fear scaring you, fear losing this only warmth.
Even… though it’s in a dream.
You are my only light!
My one and only!
And in the moment just before waking, I always hold something, smiling as I offer it to her.
Then calling out something.
“This… is for you!”
“I often have this dream.”
…
The grand hall lay in heavy silence…
Candle flames struggled to flicker in the cold air, their light casting across the crimson throne and onto Klal’s stunning face, eyes tightly closed.
She slowly opened them, her crimson pupils trembling slightly, as if feeling something.
Along with… the powerful heartbeat, thumping again and again, echoing faintly in the hall—almost impossible to calm.
“Another dream…”
Whenever she closes her eyes, she feels that abnormally scorching, intensely powerful emotion.
So intense that Klal cannot imagine it coming from her proud and mighty self.
She often denies it, telling herself that dream, those blurred memories, are mere false illusions. Yet when she wakes… that racing heartbeat feels so real, that fading voice so painful.
Klal lazily reclined on the throne, one arm propping her head, the overwhelming emotions surging in her eyes lingering for a long while.
She took a deep breath before barely calming her fiercely pounding heart.
“…”
Silence spread…
Her crimson eyes stared vacantly into the darkness ahead, lost in thought, seemingly still unable to recover from the intense, real emotions of the dream.
She slowly closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling faintly. When she opened them again, all prior emotions had settled, leaving only indifference.
“Never mind… Tell me the latest situation.”
“Yes.” Sulga replied respectfully.
He paused to gather his thoughts, organizing his words before beginning the report.
“Since the human invasion, the Eastern and Western Districts have tripled patrol forces, conducting nonstop searches day and night on major streets and dark alleys. However…” Sulga’s voice grew grave.
“As of now, we still haven’t rooted out those hidden rats. They seem extremely familiar with the city’s layout, always managing to evade our searches skillfully.”
Klal’s crimson eyes narrowed slightly, her fingertips lightly tapping the throne’s armrest, the aura around her dropping a few degrees.
“As for the northern penned districts that were ambushed… Under the noble enforcers’ leadership, we’ve reclaimed most of the lost territory, but…”
He paused, his voice sinking lower.
“The blood livestock in those districts—aside from a few too weak and frail that were abandoned—were almost entirely taken by the humans. They selectively transferred them, specifically choosing the healthy and strong individuals.”
The air in the hall seemed to freeze. The candle flames danced uneasily, casting shifting shadows across Klal’s face, deep hatred glinting in her crimson eyes.
“Selecting the healthy ones… Heh.” Klal repeated softly, letting out a cold snort, a chill flashing in her eyes.
“It seems their laboratory’s ‘little white mice’ have run out.”
“Anything else?” she asked icily.
Sulga thought for a moment, hesitation and conflict actually appearing on his face, as if debating whether to say it.
“There’s also… Miss Sylvie has awakened.”
“Oh?” Her voice rose with pleasure.
“Where is that child now?”
Without waiting for Sulga’s answer, she confidently guessed, her tone full of certainty.
“After waking, did she immediately rush to kneel outside the hall?” Klal chuckled lightly, fingertips tapping the armrest.
“No doubt she’s anxiously waiting for my summons right now, begging for my forgiveness. After all…”
Her voice carried a hint of smugness.
“Unauthorized feeding of a strange vampire is a serious overstep. As her master, she should naturally feel shame and remorse for her actions. But given how devoutly she’s repenting, I might consider…”
“Your Majesty.” Sulga suddenly interrupted, his voice carrying rare hesitation.
“In fact… after waking, Miss Sylvie hurried straight to the Eastern District without stopping.”
Klal’s smile froze instantly on her face…
…