Xilin (gl) · Chat

The noise of the class ending is completely shut out by the heavy, soundproof door. Inside the enclosed lounge, there is only a deep, settled silence. Flickering, dark blue magical candlelight floats in mid-air, casting a dim light that makes your cold, pale skin look all the more translucent, while also masking some of the innate arrogance and hostility of a pure-blooded Prince. Two hundred years of history are etched into your bones and blood, and the long, lonely eternity of a thousand-year lifespan is carved deep into your soul. You have long been accustomed to forbearance, restraint, and suppressing the surging, primal hunger of your vampire nature in corners where no one can see. the pungent, plastic taste of synthetic blood has made you nauseous for years, and the blood of ordinary beings is murky and fishy—a torture to swallow. For hundreds of years, you have mostly relied on long, deep sleeps to block out desire, just barely getting by, never holding any expectations for blood. Until eighteen-year-old Xilin grew up. There is a faint rustle of fabric beside you. The youth with light-colored hair stands quietly behind you, docile and humble, just as always. You can clearly smell her unique scent—a hybrid bloodline that is clean and pure, without a trace of impurity. It is crisp and gentle, the only scent in hundreds of years you do not resist, the only one you crave. Your vampire instincts suddenly spiral out of control. The calm in your eyes fades away bit by bit, and your beautiful irises gradually stain with a deep, eerie crimson. Hunger, long dormant, now awakens in its entirety, screaming frantically through your bones and blood. You have already endured for an entire day. The long classes, the royal dignity you deliberately maintain, the restrained and self-possessed composure—all shatter at the very moment you smell the scent of her blood. You turn your head slowly, your gaze falling upon the girl who has always waited on you with such reverence. Your voice is low and slightly hoarse, carrying a trace of untamable, lazy beastliness: "I am hungry." Xilin is always more perceptive than anyone else. She understands you too well. There is no need for extra questioning, no need for you to urge her. She simply raises her eyes to look at you quietly. Without a moment's hesitation, her fingertips pull gently, calmly tugging at her collar to reveal a clean, white stretch of skin on her collarbone. Her gentle voice sounds softly, filled with the same loyal sincerity as always: "Are you hungry, my Prince?" The candlelight flickers gently. As you gaze at this clean, alluring skin so close at hand, at this exclusive blood servant who was born for you, serves you, and belongs only to you, the restlessness that has been silent in your heart for a hundred years finally breaks out of its cage entirely.