Chapter 145: The Morning

The morning sun filtered through the curtains of my bedroom, casting a warm golden light across the wooden floorboards.

I blinked my eyes open slowly, my vision blurry as my brain fought off the heavy fog of sleep. For a second, my mind was still stuck in that damp, crumbling vault—listening to the roars of the dragon man and the echoing screams of the collapsing gate.

Then, the soft chirping of birds outside my window reminded me where I was.

I was in my own bed.

"Ugh..." I groaned, rolling over to sit up on the edge of the mattress.

Every single muscle in my back, shoulders, and legs screamed in protest. My left thigh felt stiff and sore, but when I unwrapped the dirty bandage from the night before, I saw that the deep slash had stopped bleeding completely.

I checked my phone on the nightstand.

It was 8:15 AM.

’Still no messages from Elena,’ I noted with a small sigh of relief. ’That means she’s still busy at the Association office. We got lucky.’

I stood up, stretched my aching arms until my back popped, and grabbed a clean white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. After changing out of my ruined, dust-covered clothes from the gate, I unlocked my bedroom door and quietly stepped out into the hallway.

The floor was dead silent.

I walked past Viora’s room—her door was slightly open, showing an empty bed. She was already awake.

I stopped outside the end room where Carmilla and her cousins were staying. Standing there in the quiet corridor, I held my breath, listening carefully. I couldn’t hear any crying or panicked movements from inside.

I gently pushed the door open an inch and peeked through the crack.

The room was bathed in the morning light. Carmilla’s two young cousins were still fast asleep under the thick duvet, their small hands holding onto each other.

Carmilla wasn’t in the bed. She was sitting motionless on the wide window sill, her knees pulled tightly against her chest, staring blankly out at the green trees in the back garden. The soft morning light hit her pale face, making her red eyes look strangely clear, but totally lifeless. She didn’t turn her head when the door creaked. She just kept staring into nothingness.

I didn’t disturb her. I quietly pulled the door shut and made my way downstairs.

When I reached the living room, I saw Viora sitting silently on the soft sofa.

Her pale, beautiful face was turned slightly toward the front window, her blind, clouded eyes staring straight ahead into the darkness that always surrounded her.

Even without her sight, the moment my boot touched the bottom step of the staircase, her head tilted slightly in my direction.

"Good morning, Woo Jin," Viora said quietly, her tone calm and steady as usual.

"Morning, Viora," I smiled, walking over to the living room. "How long have you been awake?"

"Since the sun came up," Viora replied, resting her hands in her lap. "I can feel the heat of the light on the window glass."

"Did you get any sleep at all?"

"A little," she said plainly. "And my stomach is telling me it is morning."

I chuckled softly, rubbing the back of my neck. "Right. Let me make us some breakfast. You just sit tight and relax."

Since Viora was blind and had zero cooking skills, letting her anywhere near a burning stove or hot oil was a disaster waiting to happen.

I walked into the kitchen, opened the large refrigerator, and looked through our food supplies.

"Let’s see..." I muttered to myself. "We have eggs, bread, sausage, and some fresh milk."

Knowing we had three extra mouths to feed upstairs, I pulled out a heavy skillet, cracked a dozen eggs into a large bowl, and began whisking them together. I set the pan on the stove, turned on the heat, and started frying up a big batch of scrambled eggs, toasted bread, and sliced sausages.

Within ten minutes, the rich, delicious smell of warm butter, fried meat, and toasted bread filled the entire kitchen.

Viora walked into the kitchen, her soft footsteps making almost no noise against the floorboards. She guided herself effortlessly using her incredible spatial awareness, stopping right next to the kitchen island without bumping into a single chair.

"It smells good," Viora noted, her nose twitching slightly. "Is it meat?"

"Sausages and eggs," I smiled, using a spatula to plate a huge pile of food onto four large ceramic plates. "Simple, but it’ll fill everyone up."

Just as I was setting the plates down on the wooden dining table, soft, hesitant footsteps echoed from the staircase out in the hallway.

We both turned our heads toward the kitchen entrance.

Carmilla was standing near the doorway. She was wearing a simple, loose white shirt that Viora had left in the room for her last night. Her dark hair was messy, hanging loosely over her shoulders, and her pale skin made her look like a fragile glass doll that would shatter at any moment.

Behind her dress, two small heads peeked out timidly.

The two young cousins—the little boy and girl—were clinging to the hem of Carmilla’s skirt. Their big red eyes were wide with fear as they looked around the large, modern kitchen, clearly overwhelmed by the strange human appliances and unfamiliar surroundings.

"Carmilla," I said gently, keeping my hands visible and stepping back a bit so I wouldn’t intimidate them. "Good morning. Did you sleep okay?"

Carmilla didn’t answer right away. Her red eyes darted from me to Viora, and then down to the boiling pot of stew on the counter.

"Where... are we?" Carmilla’s voice was raspy, barely above a whisper.

"This is my home," I explained in simple, calm words.

The little boy behind Carmilla let out a small, trembling stomach growl. He quickly buried his face back into Carmilla’s dress, his cheeks turning red from embarrassment.

A tiny, almost unnoticeable flicker of emotion passed over Carmilla’s pale face. She looked down at her cousins, her small hands gently touching their heads.

"The kids haven’t eaten since yesterday," Carmilla whispered, her voice tight with suppressed pain.

"Sit down at the table," Viora said, setting down four ceramic bowls on the wooden dining table. "The stew is ready."

Carmilla hesitated for a moment, but seeing her cousins staring longingly at the steam rising from the bowls, she slowly guided them toward the table. The two little kids scrambled up onto the high wooden chairs, their small legs dangling in the air.

I poured three glasses of sweet fruit juice and placed them in front of the children. The little girl looked up at me timidly, her small fangs poking slightly over her bottom lip, before she whispered a tiny, "Thank you, mister..."

"You’re welcome," I smiled softly, pulling out a chair across from them.

For the next ten minutes, the kitchen was quiet except for the sound of spoons scraping against ceramic bowls. The two young kids ate ravenously, blowing on the hot broth before gulping down pieces of beef and potatoes.

Carmilla sat between them, holding her spoon, but she only took a few tiny sips. Her mind was clearly miles away, buried under the heavy weight of her grief.

I waited until the kids had finished their bowls before I leaned forward slightly, resting my hands flat on the table.

"Carmilla," I began quietly. "I know this is hard, and I know you’ve lost almost everything. But we need to talk about what happens next."

Carmilla set her spoon down. She didn’t look up at me; her eyes remained fixed on the table. "What is there to talk about? We are survivors of a fallen gate. We have no kingdom. We have no army. In your world, we are just monsters."

"You’re not monsters to us," I said firmly, making sure my tone was clear and honest. "Viora and I won’t let anyone harm you. But you can’t leave this house right now. Human hunters hunt gate creatures on sight. If you walk out on the streets without a disguise, the Hunter Association will track you down immediately."

Carmilla let out a bitter, hollow laugh. "Then we are prisoners here."

"No," Viora interrupted smoothly, setting a fresh plate of sliced bread on the table. "You are guests. A prisoner is locked up to suffer. You are here to eat and stay alive."

Carmilla blinked, looking up at Viora’s calm, expressionless face.

I took over the explanation. "You can stay here in the villa for as long as you need. Elena—the owner of this house—is rarely here during the day, and the second floor is big enough to hide you three comfortably. But I need you to promise me one thing."

"What promise?" Carmilla asked, her voice cautious.

"Don’t do anything reckless," I said, looking straight into her blood-red eyes. "Don’t try to go back to the gate area, and don’t try to fight any hunters. Your mother gave her life to get you and these kids out alive. Right now, your only job is to protect them and survive."

Carmilla looked down at the two children sitting beside her. The little boy had fallen asleep again, leaning his head against his sister’s shoulder, his belly full and warm. The little girl was softly patting her brother’s hair, looking up at Carmilla with trusting eyes.

Carmilla’s shoulders slumped, the tension slowly draining out of her frame. The faint flame of anger and despair in her posture gave way to a tired, quiet acceptance.

"...I understand," Carmilla whispered softly. "I will not cause trouble for you, Viora. I will keep the children inside."