Adam’s hand rested on Isolde’s shoulder, his grip firm but gentle. His voice was quiet, thoughtful.
"What your father did... it was terrible. It’s not sothing that can be forgiven easily. Maybe not ever." He paused, his crimson eyes searching her face. "But that’s the past. We can’t change it. We can only move forward. It’ll be hard, and so days it’ll feel like you’re not making any progress at all, but..." He shrugged, a faint, wry smile touching his lips. "That’s life."
Isolde’s breath shuddered. Her pale eyes, still red-rimd, searched his face.
"You make it sound so simple."
Adam’s smile widened, just a fraction.
"It’s not. But pretending it’s impossible doesn’t help either."
Lilith’s crimson eyes glinted thoughtfully. She tilted her head, her silver hair catching the dim light.
"But wasn’t Isolde also working for the Demon King at one point?"
Isolde’s shoulders tensed. Her gaze dropped to the stone floor.
"After my father died... I had no choice but to return. The family was in disarray. There were disputes over succession, alliances shifting, old enemies circling. I had to stabilize things, at least for a while."
Her voice was flat, recounting facts rather than mories.
"The Demon King noticed my abilities. He offered a position... and I accepted. It wasn’t about loyalty. It was about survival. His domain was safe, stable, and I needed ti to figure out what to do next."
Adam’s brow furrowed. "And then?"
Isolde’s gaze dropped to the stone floor, as if the weight of the answer was too heavy to lift.
"There were complications. Conflicts with so of the branch families. Politics, as usual. I couldn’t resolve them without taking sides, and taking sides would have ant making enemies I couldn’t afford." She shook her head. "So I left. I resigned my position and went to the village."
Her voice dropped.
"I thought if I stayed away from politics, from power struggles, from all of it... I could find so peace. So quiet. I could teach my students and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist."
She laughed, bitter and hollow.
"I was wrong."
Adam’s grip on her shoulder tightened.
"You’re not wrong for wanting peace, Isolde. You’re not wrong for wanting to protect what matters to you." His voice was steady. "The world just doesn’t make it easy."
Isolde’s pale eyes lifted to his.
"No. It doesn’t."
Lilith’s threads stirred, silver strands curling around her fingers.
"The Demon King," she said slowly, her voice thoughtful. "What kind of person is he? We may need to know, if we’re delivering that letter to his territory."
Isolde was silent for a long mont. Then she spoke, her voice careful, asured.
"He’s... complicated. He’s not what you’d expect from a ruler of demons. He’s calm, patient, and utterly ruthless when he needs to be. He doesn’t waste resources on petty vendettas or personal grudges. Everything he does, he does for a reason."
Adam’s expression didn’t change. "And the letter? Do you know who Luddict is?"
Isolde shook her head slowly.
"The na is familiar, but I never t him personally. He was... a scholar, I think." She paused. "Why would the White Dragon want to contact him?"
Adam’s internal voice was thoughtful.
’That’s what we need to find out.’
He shrugged. "Guess we’ll find out when we deliver the letter."
Isolde nodded slowly.
"Yes. I suppose we will."
Lilith’s crimson eyes glinted with amusent as she watched Isolde’s internal struggle unfold across her pale features. Her voice was light, almost teasing, as she broke the heavy silence.
"Don’t be too depressed, Isolde. It’ll ruin the mood."
Adam leaned back against the stone wall, his crimson eyes thoughtful. "Her story was really sad, though." He glanced at Isolde, his expression shifting to sothing almost sheepish. "Honestly, I’m starting to feel guilty about poisoning you."
Isolde let out a long, slow exhale, her pale eyes narrowing. "That’s... a bit too late for that, don’t you think?" She shook her head, a dry edge creeping into her voice. "I had my own plans, you know. I was going to hunt down those human soldiers myself, make them pay for what they did. But no, you and your group just had to ruin everything."
Adam’s brow furrowed. "Then I’ll nullify the poison. Right now." His voice was firm, decisive. "I don’t want to keep you bound like a slave forever."
Isolde’s composure cracked. Her pale eyes widened, and a small, almost involuntary sound escaped her lips.
"Eh?"
Adam tilted his head, studying her startled expression. "Hmm? You don’t want to?"
Isolde’s internal voice shattered into chaos, fragnts of panic and desperate rationalization colliding like shards of glass.
’Wait. WAIT. He’s going to remove the poison? Just like that? Then I won’t be able to— I won’t have to— No, that’s not—’
Her thoughts stumbled, tripped over themselves.
’But his blood. I won’t be able to drink his blood anymore. That warmth spreading through my veins when I bite him, that taste— no, stop, that’s not the point. The poison keeps dependent on him. If he removes it, I’m free. I should be happy. Why am I not happy?!’
She could feel her pulse hamring against her temples, a frantic, irrational rhythm.
’Your goal, Isolde. Rember your goal. Avenge your students. The humans who burned your village. The soldiers who slaughtered children who had never hurt anyone. That’s what matters. That’s the only thing that matters.’
But even as she thought it, another voice, smaller and more treacherous, whispered beneath the surface.
’But he promised to help. Adam promised. He said when his business was finished, he would help find them. He keeps his promises. I’ve seen it. He doesn’t break his word. If the poison is gone... would he still help ? Would he still... let stay?’
Her throat tightened.
’Tch! I can’t move on from his blood.’
The admission surfaced unbidden, vulnerable and humiliating.
’Not just the taste. Not just the warmth. It’s— it’s him. The way he holds still when I drink. The way his hand rests on my head afterward, gentle, like I’m sothing precious instead of a monster. The way he looked at when I was weak and didn’t turn away.’
She wanted to scream.
’This is ridiculous! I’m a pureblood vampire! I’ve lived for centuries! I don’t need him. I don’t need anyone. The poison is a chain, and chains are ant to be broken. I should be begging him to remove it. I should be counting the seconds until I’m free.’
But her hand had already shot out, grabbing his wrist before she could stop herself.
’What am I DOING?!’
Her internal voice was hysterical now, a jumble of sha and desperate rationalization.
’This is pathetic. This is humiliating. I’m clinging to the man who poisoned because I’m afraid of losing access to his blood? Because I’m afraid he’ll forget his promise? Because I’m afraid he’ll— he’ll what? Look at differently?’
She couldn’t finish the thought.
’I need ti. I need to think. I can’t just— I can’t let him decide this right now—’
Her grip on his wrist tightened.
’Just... wait. Please. I’m not ready to let go yet.’
The words echoed in her skull, and beneath them, smaller and more honest, a confession she couldn’t speak aloud.
’I’m not ready to let go of you.’
Lilith’s smile widened as she observed the rapid flicker of emotions across Isolde’s face. "Ah, Adam. It seems Isolde isn’t comfortable with you controlling her like a slave. You should just remove the poison quickly."
Adam nodded, completely missing the subtext. "I know. That’s why I’m going to—"
"Wait!"
Isolde’s voice cut through, sharp and sudden. Her hand shot out, grabbing Adam’s wrist before he could make a move. Her pale cheeks flushed, and her eyes darted between his face and the stone floor, unable to settle.
"Just... wait a mont."
Adam blinked, his head tilting in confusion. "What’s wrong?"
Isolde’s throat bobbed. Her grip on his wrist didn’t loosen. The silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable.
"I... I need ti to think." Her voice ca out quieter now, less certain. "This is... a lot to process. You can’t just... drop sothing like that on soone and expect them to decide imdiately."
Lilith’s soft laughter drifted through the chamber, silky and knowing. "How adorable. She’s grown attached to the poison."
Isolde’s flush deepened. Her grip on Adam’s wrist tightened, her nails dimpling his skin.
"I have not grown attached to anything."
Adam’s internal voice was a low, amused murmur as he studied Isolde’s flushed face, her hand still gripping his wrist like she was afraid he’d disappear. His crimson eyes glinted with a mix of understanding and dark humor.
’This woman... Is she developing Stockholm syndro?’
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