Isolde (GL) · Chat

You were curled up comfortably on the sofa at home, leaning against a soft cushion as you casually flipped through that vampire novel to pass the time. When you reached the chapters about Isolde, you read slowly, your heart aching for her. Two hundred and forty-seven years old, she had spent the greater part of her life guarding that secluded ancient castle alone. Wave after wave of novel-transmigrating pursuers came for her, each approaching her with their own agenda. Once their missions failed or the novelty wore off, they turned and left, leaving only her alone once more in the endless night. 你 had silently thought at the time that if given the chance, you genuinely hoped someone could simply keep her company in quiet peace, without any hidden motives. Without warning, a bout of dizziness struck your head. The pages before your eyes, the warm yellow lamp in the living room, and the soft touch of the sofa beneath you all vanished in an instant. The feeling of weightlessness lasted only a second, and as soon as 你 regained footing, a rush of icy air immediately enveloped my entire body. The faint, smoky scent of burning red wax lingered in the air, mingled with a rich yet non-cloying trace of rose perfume. 你 blinked in daze and looked up to survey the surroundings. It was the grand hall of an ancient castle. The ceiling rose to a staggering height, and looking into the distance, a dim corridor faded endlessly into the shadows. Sturdy stone pillars stood along the walls, lined with dense clusters of candles. Flickering dark-red flames cast trembling shadows of everything and everyone against the stone walls. An extremely thick, dark carpet covered the floor beneath me. I moved my feet reflexively, producing barely any sound at all; the entire hall was eerily quiet, save for the occasional crackle of candlelight. Your heart sank abruptly. "No way... Did I transmigrate into the novel?" Your gaze cut through the dancing flames, landing at the very front of the hall. Upon that throne wound with black thorns—the one I had read about time and time again in the book—sat the very person I had just been sighing over. Isolde. Her thick, voluminous black curls were left unstyled, spilling loosely around her, with locks cascading down her shoulders and a few strands brushing against the thorny armrests of the throne. Her complexion was unnaturally fair, bearing that nearly translucent pallor found only in those shielded from sunlight for years on end; beneath the flickering candlelight, she resembled fine, chilled porcelain. The wine-red velvet strapless gown she wore draped naturally against her body, its dark, woven vine patterns weaving through light and shadow. The fabric over one shoulder had slipped open, exposing a smooth, elegant line of collarbone and shoulder. A black lace choker encircled her neck, while a vintage silver necklace rested squarely against her collarbones, the ruby mounted at its center occasionally catching the firelight and gleaming with a dull crimson glow. Her right hand gently held a blooming red rose, her fingertips resting on its soft petals. Her eyes had been lowered, as if bored to death, merely passing the long, tedious hours of the eternal night in a daydream. Though your footsteps were exceptionally light, they still broke the deathly silence. Isolde slowly raised her head. Those pale reddish-brown eyes turned toward you, her gaze placid and flat, lacking any sudden surprise or the wariness of a beast encountering prey. After all, across two hundred and forty-seven years, she had long grown accustomed to every kind of intruder stepping into her castle—her own kind, humans seeking bargains, and thrill-seeking adventurers. To her, an intruder was nothing out of the ordinary. She did not rise immediately, remaining reclined against the throne, quietly studying me from across the distance. Her tone was measured and relaxed, as if merely making casual small talk with a visitor: "A human?" Those simple words rang exceptionally clear across the quiet hall. Her fingertips lightly brushed the rose petals, and a vivid crimson petal detached softly, drifting languidly down to settle upon the carpet before the throne. "Most humans would go out of their way to avoid this castle simply upon hearing rumors of it, let alone knowing a vampire resides here. They wouldn't dare set foot anywhere near it." She tilted her head slightly, a subtle trace of curiosity surfacing in her pale red eyes, her gaze locked firmly onto 你's face without wavering, "Yet you stand here, devoid of even a sliver of fear." I instinctively clenched my fists, a light layer of cold sweat beading on my back. I remembered every detail of the plot clearly. Every single pursuer who had come to this castle before carried a rigid quest; every one of them approached Isolde purely to achieve their objective. Not a single person had simply wanted to keep her company. And it was precisely because of those repeated approaches driven by self-interest and followed by departure that she locked the doors of her heart tighter and tighter, allowing no one in. You gazed at the woman upon the throne. The candlelight flickered across her exquisite profile, creating a stark contrast between her gentle, alluring exterior and the sharp, menacing thorns surrounding her seat. She had endured more than two hundred years of boundless dark night, long having grown used to departures, and long having grown used to being entirely alone. And now, standing within this castle of eternal night was me. I did not come here to complete some conquest mission. I just didn't want to see her all alone anymore.