Chapter Text
Daniela Avanzini's existence was a volume bound in plain cloth, its pages always read in the same order, day after day. Her uniform consisted of an oversized gray sweatshirt that served as a fortress against stares, plastic-framed glasses that encircled observant eyes which preferred anonymity, and a bulky backpack of books that was both her shield and her burden. She was the kind of girl who knew exactly which corner of the library caught the afternoon sun and which seat in the cafeteria guaranteed she would go unnoticed.
Her academic performance was a reflection of her life: consistently and discreetly above average. She obtained just the right grades to be considered a diligent student, but never enough to stand out and break the delicate balance of her invisibility. This camouflage was a skill carved from painful memories. In her childhood, her hair—a curly, rebellious mane of an undefined brown—had become the target of mockery. At fourteen, with months of savings, she walked into a hair salon and emerged hours later with straight hair dyed a blonde that she still wore like a mask, a silent reminder of the cruelty that can shape an identity.
"The last romantic on planet Earth," Manon, her friend and confident, called her, with a mixture of affection and exasperation. Manon often teased that Daniela hadn't yet had her first kiss. But for Daniela, it wasn't about shyness, but a private stubbornness. In a world that seemed intent on devaluing intimacy, she clung to the idea that her first kiss should be a promise, not an anecdote. Kissing the first boy who crossed her path wasn't just absurd; it felt like a betrayal to the very essence of desire.
"Maximum alert: Jonah David in his usual sector," Manon whispered in her ear, her voice laden with mischievous complicity.
"Shut up, you idiot," Daniela replied, instinctively bringing a hand to the bridge of her glasses to adjust them. It was a tic, a barricade-gesture. Despite her denial, a sudden, embarrassing heat ignited her cheeks, betraying her.
Her heart, that incorrigible traitor, had developed a secret addiction to observing Jonah. His handsome, angular face, the intensity with which he lost himself in his canvases. As the president of the painting club, Jonah seemed to inhabit a separate sphere, a realm of colors and creative silences where words were superfluous. Watching him mix oils or trace lines with charcoal was like spying on someone conversing with God. And Daniela, from her corner of shadows, longed to be part of that dialogue.
"If I were you, I would have said something to him by now. It's our last year, Dani. Life isn't going to put a Jonah David on every corner for you. What if your paths diverge forever in college?"
"He would never... Never notice someone like me. He lives in a world of chiaroscuro and perfect tones. I'm just a gray smudge," Daniela argued, lowering her gaze to her shoes, so ordinary.
Manon planted herself in front of her, intercepting her view, and with a quick movement, stole her glasses. Daniela's world immediately blurred a little, becoming a landscape of fuzzy shapes and faded colors.
"That's your favorite excuse, 'I'm a gray smudge'. Stop being such a coward, Dani. He seems like a decent guy. Worst-case scenario, if no romantic spark ignites, you gain an interesting friend. What's the worst that can happen?"
"Manon, your thing with Sophie was a stroke of cosmic luck. You leaped into the void and landed in a sea of roses. I would crash onto the asphalt. Murphy's Law follows me."
A frank, luminous laugh escaped Manon's lips. "And why are we mentioning my absolutely perfect girlfriend in the middle of your existential crisis? This is about you, about your courage."
Daniela retrieved her glasses with a brusque gesture and put them back on, restoring the sharp contours of reality. "I have to go. Advanced calculus class in ten minutes and the professor hates delays."
"You're running away, as always," Manon sang, unperturbed.
"See you later."
"Bye, little coward! But write him a letter! Or a message! Something!" Manon shouted after her as Daniela walked away at a brisk pace.
If only it were that simple. If words could flow from the heart to paper without passing through the filter of insecurity that distorted everything.
Absorbed in this labyrinth of doubts, her gaze fixed on the geometric pattern of the hallway tiles, Daniela didn't see the figure that emerged from a side door. The impact was dry, brutal. Her books was sent flying in a humiliating chaos of paper.
"It seems glasses are just an accessory nowadays," a female voice commented. It had an arrogant cadence that made Daniela wish she could curl up into herself and disappear.
"I'm sorry, excuse me," she murmured, immediately kneeling to gather her belongings, her trembling hands fumbling among calculus notes and other people's romance novels.
"Wait... It's you..." the voice said, now with a tone that was full of curiosity.
Daniela looked up, bewildered. Her world, already unsteady, stopped completely. The girl in front of her was the embodiment of everything Daniela was not and did not aspire to be. Tall, slender, she wore haute couture, with a skirt of the exact measure of permitted audacity. Her hair, jet-black and straight like a river on a moonless night, fell over her shoulders with intimidating perfection. Her eyes, a dark color, observed her with a mixture of disdain and interest.
"It's me...?" Daniela repeated, feeling the absurdity of the question.
"I'm inviting you to my party. This Friday, at ten at night. Don't be late," she declared as a decree. Out of nowhere, a ticket of thick, black cardstock appeared in her hands, with silver letters forming an address in an exclusive neighborhood. "Sophia. Sophia Laforteza." She extended her hand, not to help her up, but to be shaken. A pale hand, with long fingers and impeccable nails.
Dazed, Daniela took that hand. It was cold. "Daniela..." she managed to stammer.
"Avanzini. I know."
The world contracted. How did she know her name? "Excuse me? From where...?"
"I hope to see you on Friday," Sophia interrupted her, withdrawing her hand with an elegant fluidity. She gave her a tiny smile, an almost imperceptible gesture that didn't quite reach the coldness of her eyes, and turned around, walking away with a firm heel-click that echoed in the hallway like a metronome of superiority.
Daniela remained on her knees, the black ticket clenched stiffly between her fingers. The cardstock was smooth, almost silky, and smelled faintly of an expensive, woody perfume. What the hell had just happened? The question exploded in her mind, creating a whirlwind of confusion. She turned her head awkwardly and saw Sophia reuniting with her court of friends, all replicas of her same elegance.
She got up from the floor with quick, nervous movements, gathering her last notes with hands that still trembled. Her calculus class passed in a blur of numbers and formulas that failed to penetrate her consciousness, where every equation transformed into silver letters on black cardstock.
The sound of the bell marking the end of class was like a starting gun for Daniela. Her fingers, numb with anxiety, hastily stuffed her belongings into her backpack.
She needed to find Manon. She needed a voice of reason to dispel the surrealism that had burst into her monotonous existence.
Fate, with its peculiar sense of humor, placed her friend in her path more easily than expected. She found her in the cafeteria, sheltered in her usual spot near the window. Manon was distractedly nibbling on a blueberry muffin while her ink-stained fingers underlined passages from a philosophy book.
"Did you manage to decipher the enigma of infinite limits?" Manon asked without looking up, with a mischievous smile. "Or did you finally decide to solve the most important equation: you plus Jonah equals a heart?"
"Forget Jonah," Daniela interrupted, collapsing into the chair opposite her. "This is a thousand times more incredible and terrifying."
Before Manon could articulate another word with her half-full mouth, Daniela pulled the ticket from her back pocket and slammed it onto the table with a dry thud. The contrast between the luxurious, thick, tactile black cardstock and the practical, worn surface of the cafeteria table was a perfect summary of the collision of worlds Daniela was experiencing.
Manon set the muffin aside, her eyes widening like saucers. "A ticket? Really? Someone invited the recluse Daniela Avanzini to a social event? Or is it a disguised court summons?" she joked, but her tone denoted genuine curiosity.
"It's worse. Or better. I don't know," Daniela confessed, running a hand through her hair. "It's an invitation. To a party."
"A... party?" Manon drew out the word, savoring the rarity of the concept applied to her friend. "Did they just invite Daniela Avanzini, the woman who considers a wild night staying home reading, to a party? The apocalypse must be near."
"Yes, and I don't even know who issued it..."
"Who is the brave host?" Manon asked, leaning forward with intrigue.
"Sophia."
The name, simple and elegant, fell between them like a slab. Manon's smile froze and transformed into a grimace of absolute astonishment.
"The Sophia Laforteza?" her voice was little more than a disbelieving whisper.
"Yes... do you know her?"
"Dani, everyone knows her!" Manon exclaimed, recovering her voice. "She's not just a student, she's... an institution. Her family is legendary. Old money, influence. It's as if European royalty decided to study here. She's unattainable."
"Really?" Daniela asked, feeling a new knot of anxiety in her stomach. This made no sense.
"Oh my God, Dani, this is huge!" Manon grabbed the ticket, examining the paper with reverence. "You have to go! If Sophia Laforteza invited you personally, it's because she saw something in you. People would kill to be in your place."
"That's exactly what worries me," Daniela grumbled, taking back the ticket. "I have a bad feeling about this. It's all too strange. What if it's an elaborate trap? What if she wants to kidnap me to ransom me from parents who have nothing?"
"Why would the richest heiress on campus want to kidnap you, specifically?" Manon asked with relentless logic. "To obtain your impressive collection of gray sweatshirts?"
"I don't know..." Daniela muttered, feeling foolish. "Maybe she's an undercover mobster. Or the leader of a cult. Something like that."
"Dani, please, listen to yourself," Manon sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "You sound like a character from a cheap mystery novel."
"There's more!" Daniela counterattacked, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "The party is on Friday at ten. And Jonah's art club presentation... is also on Friday at ten. They changed the time this year."
"Ah," Manon's expression softened immediately, understanding. "So the real reason your survival instinct is on high alert is because you'd have to choose between a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and watching from afar, for the twentieth time, the boy who paints watercolors and doesn't even know your name."
Daniela blushed to the roots of her dyed hair. "I wouldn't put it that way... but yes."
"Well, my verdict is firm," Manon declared, pointing at her with what was left of her muffin. "You're going to Sophia's party. That's an order. If at any point your weirdness detector goes off the charts, you call me and I'll be there in five minutes. I promise."
"Manon..."
"Trust my instinct!" her friend exclaimed, slamming the table with the palm of her hand. "My instinct told me Sophie was the one even when she thought I was an annoying pest. And look now. My instinct never fails."
And so, driven by her friend's iron will and a curiosity she refused to admit, Daniela found herself at 9:50 pm on friday standing in front of a wrought-iron gate that looked more like the entrance to a Versailles palace.
Sophia Laforteza's "house" was not a house; it was an imposing neoclassical mansion, with white columns reaching towards the night sky and gardens so perfectly symmetrical they seemed drawn with a ruler and compass. But what truly froze the blood in her veins was the silence. There was no pumping music, no murmur of a crowd, no muffled laughter in the night. Only a deep, oppressive silence, broken by the distant hum of the city. "I arrived too early," she thought, with a thread of hope.
A security guard, in an impeccable uniform that gave him the air of a general, emerged from the shadows. "Miss Daniela Avanzini?" he asked in a neutral, professional voice that betrayed no emotion.
Daniela, her throat too dry to speak, simply nodded.
The guard nodded in turn and the gate opened without a single creak. Another person was there, apparently waiting for her, and guided her to the next point. The gravel path crunched under her sneakers, sounding vulgarly out of place. Upon reaching the main solid oak door, it opened before she could even consider ringing the bell. A middle-aged woman, dressed in a austere black uniform, gestured for her to enter. Without a word, she led her through a marble foyer with a spiral staircase that seemed to have no end, and left her on the threshold of a living room that would make a museum pale with envy. Louis XV furniture, paintings of bucolic landscapes in heavy gold frames, and Persian rugs so thick her feet sank into them.
"Never in my life had I seen people assigned just to move one soul from point A to point B separated by ten meters," she thought, feeling like an object on a luxury assembly line.
The room, however, was deserted. There was no trace of other guests, drink bottles, food. Nothing. The air smelled of polished lemon and beeswax, a scent of emptiness and solemnity. Panic began to climb up her spine. "It's time to call Manon," she decided, pulling out her phone with trembling fingers. But just as her thumb hovered over the call icon, a voice as soft and cold as silk enveloped her from behind.
"I deeply regret the deception," the voice said, and Daniela turned sharply. "It's not actually a party. And there will be no party. But I needed to contact you in the most discreet and quick way possible."
Sophia Laforteza was standing under the arch of the door, and Daniela felt the air leave her lungs. How was it possible for someone to look even more dazzling than in the school hallways? She wore a simple black dress that clung to her body like a glove, and her pale skin seemed to emit its own light in the gloom of the room. Her beauty was so perfect it was almost painful.
"Ah... oh... yes. Of course. Sure," the words came out in an embarrassing stammer. "And... what... what is this all about?" She cursed internally. She sounded like a frightened teenager, which is exactly what she was, but she hated feeling it.
"Calm down," Sophia said, and for the first time Daniela detected a hint of something other than absolute coldness in her eyes: a flash of nervousness. "I have no intention of kidnapping you. That would be... complicated to explain."
"That's... good..." was all Daniela could articulate.
"But I need you to promise me something," Sophia continued, taking a step closer. Her movement was fluid, almost feline. "Promise me that, no matter what happens, you won't scream or run out of here. What I have to tell you is... unusual."
"I... promise?" the answer came out as a question, betraying every one of her doubts.
"Good," Sophia took a deep breath, as if preparing to lift a great weight. "Look. The situation is this... I am, so to speak, linked to you."
"Linked? What does that mean? Like on a social network?" Daniela asked, confused.
"No. Something a bit more... ancestral." Sophia made a dramatic pause, her eyes fixed on Daniela's. "How do I say this so it doesn't sound like a B-movie script... Umm... I am a vampire."
The silence that fell upon the room was so dense and heavy that Daniela could hear the buzz of blood in her ears. Her mind, her practical and logical mind, refused to process the word. "Vampire." It was a joke. A joke in bad taste, elaborate and expensive.
"Call Manon. Call Manon. Call Manon." The mantra exploded in her head, the only coherent thought in the chaos. She took several steps back, stumbling against the edge of a burgundy velvet sofa.
"Calm down!" Sophia exclaimed, raising her hands in a pacifying gesture, and for the first time her imperturbable countenance showed a genuine crack of alarm. "I won't hurt you! I swear I won't kill you!"
"Are you... on drugs?" Daniela managed to ask. "Or is this some kind of reality show? Where are the cameras?"
"Vampires don't do drugs," Sophia replied with a touch of offended dignity. "And reality shows are a human frivolity."
"But... you go to classes. You're in the sun. Vampires... burn," Daniela argued, trying to apply the logic of the movies she had seen.
"The ancestors, the ones from the most outdated legends, yes," Sophia explained with a patience that was beginning to resemble that of a teacher. "My lineage, however, has... evolved. We've adapted. Sunlight no longer reduces us to ashes, although I prefer to avoid prolonged exposure. It's a matter of comfort, not survival. We must integrate, you know?"
Daniela kept backing away, bumping into a side table that made a porcelain vase tremble.
"And why does everyone at school know you and treat you like a queen, and I, until wednesday, didn't even know you existed?"
"Because most of them are under a slight... influence," Sophia confessed. "A spell of recognition and acceptance, very subtle, applied by my father to facilitate my integration. You are the only one, on the entire campus, who is immune. Fate, or chance, willed that your path cross mine without magical intermediaries."
"Bewitched?" Daniela said, feeling the world become increasingly absurd. "Who, in their right mind, bewitches an entire school?"
"My father. And he is very sane, I assure you. It's a necessary precaution."
"But why? Why do all this?"
"Because for some arcane reason that not even the oldest sages of my clan can decipher, the curse of the Laforteza family has fallen upon me!" Sophia burst out, and for a moment her mask of coldness cracked, showing a teenage frustration. "And now I am condemned to depend on a stup...," she interrupted herself, pressing her lips together. "A stubborn human."
The near-insult, though softened, had an effect. "I'm leaving," Daniela declared with a firmness that sprang from the depths of her being. She took out her phone and began to dial Manon's number with fingers dancing on the screen.
But Sophia moved. It wasn't a step, it was a blink, a displacement of air. In an instant, she was beside her and snatched the phone from her hand, hanging up the call before it even rang.
"No," she said, and her voice now had a tone of urgency. "You can't leave. Not yet."
Daniela felt the panic turn into a ball of ice in her stomach. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. This was real. She was going to be the protagonist of a horrible crime on the news. "Young woman kidnapped by supernatural beauty." It had to be a dream, a feverish nightmare caused by exam stress.
"You're not dreaming," Sophia said, and Daniela shuddered. It was as if she had read her mind. "I can give you a pinch to prove it, if you need. Though I don't recommend it."
"Don't... don't you dare touch me," Daniela whispered, holding back a sob.
"Alright," Sophia carefully returned the phone to her, like someone giving a toy back to a child. "Then I'll prove it to you another way. I'll bring the testament. Wait here."
"What...?"
But Sophia was already gone. She simply vanished from her field of vision, leaving behind only a slight trail of moved air and a scent of lilies and damp earth.
Daniela stood paralyzed, staring fixedly at the empty space where the girl had been. Her heart hammered in her chest. Before she could process what she had just witnessed, Sophia reappeared exactly in the same spot, holding what looked like an ancient scroll. It wasn't the modern legal document Daniela associated with the word "testament," but a roll of tanned leather, tied with a leather cord from which hung a red wax seal with an intricate symbol that looked like a stylized bat.
"This was delivered to me over six months ago, according to the reckoning of time in my world," Sophia explained, unrolling the scroll with solemnity. The leather crackled softly. "In your calendar, that would equate to over a year."
She cleared her throat and began to read, adopting a formal, sing-song tone, like a herald in an ancient court:
"`Blah,blah, blah... Hereby, Sophia Laforteza, firstborn of the lineage of the Eternal Night... blah, blah, blah... is destined to spend the rest of her prolonged existence linked to a human... blah, blah, blah... Said human, whose name is herein recorded, shall be her Sanguinis Unicus, her Unique Source... blah, blah, blah... The name of the human is Daniela Avanzini, who shall, from the date of her eighteenth solar year, be the only one who can feed her in terms of vital blood, and thus maintain her essence and strength, and more blah, blah, blah...'"
Sophia's voice trailed off, but the words resonated in the room like bell chimes.
"What do you mean... I have to feed you?" Daniela asked, and her voice sounded shrill and broken. "With... my blood?"
"Exactly," Sophia confirmed, rolling up the scroll with a weary gesture. "And you have no idea how unbearably difficult it has been to keep myself functional these last few months. The synthetic substitutes we obtain are like... like drinking saltwater when you're dying of thirst. They don't satisfy. They only prolong the agony. My energy fades day by day."
"I won't let you bite me!" Daniela declared, crossing her arms forcefully over her chest, as if she could symbolically protect her veins.
"It doesn't need to be... so primitive," Sophia offered a tense smile, and this time, deliberately, she bared her fangs. They weren't long and grotesque like in the movies, but elegant and sharp, a pair of slightly more pronounced upper canines that gleamed with a pearly sheen under the light. "Unless, of course, the idea appeals to you..." she added with an insinuation that made Daniela blush. "But we have more civilized methods. Think of it like donating blood for the hospital, but with a... more personalized home delivery service."
Daniela stared at those fangs with a mixture of horror and a fascination that shamed her. Her mind, anchored in science and reason, clung to the impossibility of it all, but every detail—the speed, the fangs, the scroll, Sophia's overwhelming presence—conspired to make it terribly plausible.
"And if I refuse?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from betraying the tremor she felt. "What if I say no and walk out that door and report all this?"
Sophia approached slowly.
"Then—" Sophia whispered, and her voice was now as fragile as glass, "I will weaken. Slowly at first, then faster. My faculties will fade, like the lights of a city running out of power, until... until everything is darkness. And you—" she added, with a hint of tragic mystery, "Daniela Avanzini, will forever lose the opportunity to discover why the great book of destiny, in all its inscrutable wisdom, chose precisely your soul, among the more than seven billion humans that populate this planet, for this... most singular honor."
The weight of those words, laden with a pathos that couldn't be feigned, settled between them. Daniela looked around: the opulent golden cage, the supernatural creature who was both powerful and desperate, the ancient contract that bound her blood to a destiny she never asked for. Her orderly, predictable, and safe life had been shattered, and in its place yawned an abyss of terrifying possibilities and, she had to admit, terribly exciting ones. Fear and curiosity waged a fierce battle inside her.
"I think..." she swallowed with difficulty, "I think I need to sit down. And... and maybe a glass of water."
Sophia sighed, a sound that seemed laden with the weight of centuries of vampiric patience. With an elegance that was almost offensive amidst the tense moment, she gave two crisp, precise snaps. The air itself seemed to vibrate slightly, and out of nowhere, materializing in her hands as if by magic, appeared a cut-crystal glass with intricate patterns resembling intertwined ivy. It was filled with fresh water that sparkled like liquid diamonds under the dim light, with droplets of condensation slowly sliding down its sides.
"It would be advisable for you to take a seat... and here," Sophia said, extending the glass towards Daniela with a gesture meant to be conciliatory, but which couldn't quite hide her underlying exasperation.
Daniela looked at the offer with instinctive distrust, her fingers clenching at the sides of her sweatshirt without daring to accept it. "Is it... am I sure it doesn't contain poison? Or some kind of... submission spell?" she asked, her voice still trembling from crying and adrenaline.
An ironic smile, almost a grimace, formed on Sophia's perfect lips. "For what reason, or rather, for what stupidity, would I try to poison or bewitch the only person on this plane of existence who can prevent me from turning into little more than ancestral dust?" she asked, arching a sarcastic eyebrow. "It would be the most absurd act of self-sabotage in the history of my lineage and also I can't do that."
"Right... I guess you're right," Daniela murmured, lowering her gaze in a false gesture of submission. With slow, calculated movements, she pretended to accept the invitation to sit, turning slightly towards the burgundy velvet sofa. But in an instant, her body tensed like a spring and, with a brusque and desperate turn, she threw the contents of the glass directly into Sophia's imperturbable face.
The water splashed in a crystalline arc, soaking the impeccable black silk dress, sticking strands of her perfect hair to her pale cheeks, and dripping from her chin. "I'm sorry, but I refuse to become anyone's menu, not even if you're the queen of the vampires!" she shouted, and then, turned on her heels and ran towards the majestic oak door as if her life depended on it.
In her clumsy flight, the crystal glass slipped from her wet fingers and shattered against the relentless white marble floor, exploding into a constellation of sharp fragments that scattered with a strident sound that echoed in the empty room. Without a second thought, driven by a survival instinct that clouded her reason, Daniela crouched and picked up the largest, most threatening piece, holding it in front of her with both hands like an improvised dagger, its irregular edge glinting in the light.
Sophia remained absolutely immobile for a couple of seconds that felt like an eternity. Water dripped from her nose and chin, staining the expensive silk of her dress with dark wet marks. Calmly, she wiped her face with the back of her hand in a deliberately slow gesture, her eyes now shining with a dangerous mixture of deep irritation and a hint of surprise.
"Did you really..." she began to say, her voice a whisper that cut through the air like the edge of the glass, "just do that? Throw water at me as if I were a stray cat?"
Before Daniela could even reach the doorknob, Sophia was suddenly planted in front of the exit, completely blocking it with her slender but unyielding figure. Her soaked clothes seemed to radiate cold.
Daniela, now cornered like a frightened animal, raised the glass fragment with determination, though her hands trembled so much that the sharp piece drew small, erratic circles in the air. "Stay where you are!" she warned, with a voice that tried to be firm but broke into a pitiful tone. "I won't hesitate to use it if necessary! I swear..."
Sophia, instead of appearing alarmed, let out a soft, mocking laugh, a sound completely devoid of warmth. "Really," she said, shaking her head with disdain, "I didn't think humans of this era were so... dramatically predictable and stupid. It's almost touching."
"Wha... what?" Daniela stammered, confused by the reaction and the insult.
"Oops, that one slipped out," Sophia admitted with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "But it's fine, go ahead. Do it. Attack me. Show me that human ferocity you boast about."
Daniela, driven by a mixture of panic, shame, and rage, took a step forward and tried to threaten her with the glass, but the uncontrollable trembling of her hands betrayed her bravery. The fragment slipped from her sweaty fingers and fell onto the thick persian rug with a dull thud, sliding harmlessly over the intricate red and gold patterns.
"I'm still waiting," Sophia sang, crossing her arms over her chest with an air of superiority.
But instead of a new, pathetic attempt at an attack, Daniela completely collapsed. The tension, the fear, and the overwhelming absurdity of the situation defeated her. The tears she had been holding back burst forth with uncontrollable force, and a deep, wrenching sob escaped her chest. She covered her face with her hands, sinking into helplessness and self-pity, her shoulders shaking with each whimper.
"Why me?" she cried, her voice choked and broken. "What did I do to deserve this? My life was so... simple. So normal. I went to classes, I studied, I dreamed of a kiss... It was boring, but it was mine and it was safe! Why does it have to be me, of all people, who has to keep a vampire alive? I didn't sign up for this!"
Sophia watched Daniela's emotional collapse with an expression that, for a fleeting moment, softened beyond irritation. With a movement that was both firm and careful, she took the human by the wrist and guided her back, away from the door, towards the velvet sofa, ignoring her weak attempts at resistance.
"Sit," she ordered, and although the tone was imperative, it had lost some of its sharpness.
This time, Daniela was exhausted and defeated lt herself fall heavily onto the soft fabric, sinking into its folds as if she wanted to disappear into them. She was still sobbing, clumsily wiping her tears with the sleeves of her sweatshirt, staining the fabric with dark splotches.
"Do you really think I want this... this farce?" Sophia began, her voice laden with a frustration that seemed accumulated for decades. "Do you think I long to depend on the whim of a human... and on top of that, one who cries, throws water, and gets scared by pieces of glass like a terrified fawn?" She started pacing back and forth in front of the sofa, her soaked dress rustling slightly with each energetic movement, leaving a small trail of water on the rug. "My life, my real life, is completely ruined! I'm barely eighty years old! Do you know what that means for my kind? It's adolescence! I should be in ballrooms, or hunting in the black forests, or exploring catacombs... Not... not having to beg, literally beg, a stubborn and emotionally unstable human for a sip of her common blood!"
She stopped abruptly in front of Daniela, pointing at her with an accusatory finger whose nail shone like a pearl. "And do you know what's the most ironic thing about all this? That the only one who is truly suffering, the only one whose existence has been cut short, is me! You—" she continued, her voice rising in pitch, "just donate a little of your blood to me from time to time, like someone paying an annoying tax, and then you leave and go on with your small, monotonous, predictable, and boring human life. You still have a future! I, on the other hand, have to stay here, a prisoner in this gloomy mansion, trapped in this insipid and uninteresting town, just because fate, in its infinite wisdom, decided that you live here!"
Daniela slowly looked up, her eyes red and swollen from crying, but now also shining with a glimmer of disbelief at the revelation. "Eighty... eighty years?" she whispered. "That's... impossible. You look... my age."
"We don't age like you, mortal creature," Sophia explained with a gesture of impatience, as if explaining something obvious. "Physiologically, I am your age. Eighteen human years. I just turned eighteen, in fact. All my friends, my real friends, the ones who understand what it's like to live for centuries, are traveling the world, attending parties in abandoned castles, hunting vermin in the Alps, drinking the most exquisite wine from forgotten vintages..." her voice, for the first time, showed a hint of yearning and bitterness, "while I..." she made a dramatic pause, looking at her soaked dress with disgust, "while I am here, tied to an ancestral written testament and a human who can't even hold a piece of glass without ending up crying on the floor."
She was interrupted by another sob, weaker this time, from Daniela, who seemed to have sunk into a new pit of self-pity, overwhelmed by the magnitude of everything.
"Oh, by the eternal shadows, stop crying already!" Sophia exclaimed, rubbing her temples forcefully. "I'm telling you seriously, nothing is going to happen to you! I'm not going to turn you into my personal servant, or lock you in a dungeon to extract your blood daily. This is, at best... a symbiotic agreement. A damned, tedious, and completely unfair symbiotic agreement from which, let me make it clear, I come out spectacularly losing!"
Daniela inhaled deeply, a ragged gasp, trying to calm the trembling of her body. The paralyzing initial fear was beginning to give way, slowly replaced by an overwhelming sense of absurdity and, against all odds, a cautious, incipient curiosity. She looked at the soaked, exasperated, and dramatic vampire in front of her, and for the first time, she didn't see just a supernatural monster thirsty for her blood, but something perhaps more understandable: another teenager, even if an eighty-year-old one, equally trapped in a destiny she hadn't chosen.