The words in the letter were like a red-hot branding iron, searing her heart.
Ella knew her too well, exposing her deepest inferiority and cowardice with a single sentence. It wasn’t that Tulia didn’t want to find her; she simply didn’t dare.
She was afraid that her “dirty” state would tarnish the bright future Ella had worked so hard to achieve. She feared that her status as a Vampire would bring Ella endless trouble and danger.
She had believed that disappearing was the best way to protect Ella.
“I… I just… didn’t want to drag you down…” she whispered to the paper, a silent defense. But her tears betrayed her first, surging forth without warning.
At first, she wept quietly. The scalding liquid slid down her cheeks, drop by drop, hitting the letter and blurring the ink into small, messy stains.
She bit her lower lip hard, refusing to let a single sound escape. Only her shoulders began to tremble uncontrollably.
But her grief was like a rising tide, quickly overflowing the dam she had forced herself to build.
“…I’d rather return to that drafty shack and share a piece of dusty bread with you.”
When she read that line, Tulia’s breath hitched violently.
Her heart felt as if it were being squeezed by an invisible hand. The pain was so intense that she curled her body inward, her forehead resting against the edge of the cold wooden box.
“Wu… nnh…”
An irrepressible moan, like the whimper of a wounded animal, squeezed out from deep within her throat.
She hurriedly covered her mouth with her hand, her nails nearly digging into the soft flesh of her cheek, trying to plug the sound of her breakdown.
But it was useless.
More tears poured out in a torrential flood, and her vision blurred completely.
She began to gasp uncontrollably. Her breathing became rapid and shallow, her chest heaving violently, yet she felt as if no air could reach her lungs. A terrifying sense of suffocation wrapped tightly around her.
“Ha… ha-ah…”
“Sor… sorry… Ella… I… I didn’t… mean to…”
Her mouth hung open.
Every breath brought a violent, broken sob, turning into intermittent gasps.
Her words were sliced into fragments by her panting, almost losing their melody entirely.
Countless images flashed through her mind—Ella wearing holy white robes, standing on a high platform under the gaze of thousands.
Meanwhile, she herself was hidden in the shadows of the city, using the Chicken Roast Shop to hide her identity. Their life paths had already diverged into different worlds.
“I… I’m dirty… I… can’t… go to you… I’ll… I’ll only hurt you…”
She murmured in broken fragments, as if explaining to Ella, or perhaps as if she were slowly carving away at her own soul.
“I… I miss you so much… Ella… I miss… you so much…”
That final cry, filled with a despairing sob, finally broke through all restraints.
She could no longer support herself. Clutching the wooden box, her entire body went limp on the carpet, curling into a small, pathetic ball.
Her crying was no longer suppressed. It turned into a heart-wrenching lament, a mourning so deep it felt as if she were vomiting out her very soul.
She cried until her whole body shook, until she was out of breath.
The violent sobbing made her words unintelligible. Her breathing was so frantic it seemed she might suffocate. Because she was crying so hard, she would occasionally suck in a sharp, sudden breath, making a high-pitched, agonizing sound.
“Wu — *cough, cough*… ha… ha…”
She began to cough. Her face was a mess of tears and snot, looking utterly wretched, yet she didn’t care at all.
Every breath was accompanied by a violent shudder of her body, as if she might faint from hyperventilation at any moment.
Outside the door, the light was dim.
Sophia leaned against the wall, having never left.
At first, there were only muffled, intermittent sounds of weeping. She knew Tulia must be biting her lip, her shoulders shaking, refusing to make a sound.
But then the sound changed.
It was no longer just crying; it was that kind of gasping where one cannot catch their breath. The words were incomplete, sounding as if someone were clutching her throat, as if she were on the verge of choking.
One after another, the broken sounds drifted out.
Sophia’s hands hung at her sides, slowly clenching into fists.
Her nails dug deep into her palms, but she felt no pain.
It wasn’t until a warm liquid began to flow through the gaps of her fingers—one drop, two drops—falling onto the dark carpet and quickly vanishing that she noticed.
The person inside coughed and gasped, saying in a completely hoarse voice, “I’m dirty… I’ll only hurt you…”
Sophia swayed slightly and closed her eyes.
She understood.
Tulia wasn’t just crying because she missed Ella. It was because she felt she was unworthy. And who had caused this sense of “unworthiness”?
It was her—Sophia.
‘I am the one who turned her into a Vampire. I am the one who locked her by my side. I am the one who made her feel dirty.’
She wanted to go in. Right now, this second. She wanted to hold the person who was shaking with sobs. She wanted to tell her, ‘You aren’t dirty, you’re wonderful,’ and beg her to stop crying.
But her feet felt as if they were nailed to the floor.
‘What right do I have to go in?’
She was the one who made Tulia feel dirty. She was the one who stood outside as an onlooker while Tulia’s heart broke for someone else.
‘If I reach out now, would Tulia even want it?’
‘Would my touch be a comfort, or just another reminder?’
‘A reminder that all her shameful past is connected to me?’
‘What is my comfort worth in the face of her longing for Ella? Nothing but a joke.’
She wasn’t even sure if Tulia would want her to see her like this—so fragile, so completely defenseless.
The thought was like a bucket of cold water, extinguishing the impulse in her heart.
She could only stand there like a thief, listening to the person inside crying her heart out for someone else.
That person was clean, lived in the light, and could give Tulia things Sophia never could.
For the first time, Sophia felt utterly lost.
Forceful methods would only push the girl further away.
Clumsy attempts to please seemed so ridiculous.
And now, she couldn’t even bring herself to push the door open and walk in.
The crying inside continued, accompanied by those gasps that sounded like she was running out of life.
Every sob was like a blade, carving into Sophia’s heart.
What on earth was she supposed to do?
She didn’t know. She really didn’t know.
How could she ever mend those scars?
How… could she ever be worthy of holding the person who was crying?
Inside the room, Tulia’s crying persisted. Those intermittent, life-draining sobs struck Sophia’s heart again and again.
Outside, she simply stood still, her silhouette in the dim hallway looking exceptionally lonely and… helpless.
—
The room finally fell completely silent.
Sophia stood outside for a long time before she finally pushed the door open gently.
Tulia was curled up on the carpet, asleep. Tear tracks still stained her face, and Ella’s letter lay scattered beside her. She had cried herself into exhaustion.
Sophia walked over, her movements so slow it was as if she were afraid of breaking something.
She carefully brushed the sweat-dampened hair from Tulia’s forehead, then bent down and lifted her up with extreme gentleness.
She tensed every muscle in her body and controlled her breathing, as if she were holding a fragile dream.
After settling Tulia into bed and tucking her in, Sophia sat by the bedside and watched over her, not closing her eyes for the entire night.
Dawn broke.
Tulia opened her red, swollen eyes and saw Sophia sitting by the bed. The two of them stared at each other in silence.
“Sophia,” Tulia said in a raspy voice, “let’s go home.”
Sophia’s body stiffened, and her heart sank. She asked dryly, “…What about me?”
Tulia looked at her tired, anxious face and spoke softly yet clearly.
“We are going home.”
Sophia froze. After a long moment, she slowly nodded.
“Okay.”