Days passed, each one marked by anticipation of Rosie's return. The mansion seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the news of her performers. But when the day finally came, the atmosphere was different—heavier, more somber.
The carriage rolls up the gravel drive, but the usual fanfare and excitement is absent. Lord and Lady Thompson emerge first, their faces etched with sadness. The staff, who had gathered once again to welcome their young lady home, exchanged confused glances. Something is wrong.
As Rosie stepped out of the carriage with the help of a maid, a gasp went through the crowd. Her leg is encased in a splint, and she leans heavily on a cane. The vibrant, joyful girl they had known seemed to have vanished, replaced by pale, fragile figures.
Frank's heart aches at the sight. To see her now, broken and vulnerable, is almost too much to bear. His fingers clenched into fist as he struggled to contain his emotion.
"Please, everyone," Lord Thompson said, thick with emotion. "Rosie needs to rest, we ask that you respect her privacy during this difficult time."
The staff nod in understanding, their faces reflecting their collective sorrow. As Rosie is helped into the mansion, Frank catches her eye for just a moment. He tries to convey his support and sympathy, but she looks away, her expression distant and unreadable.
From that day on, Rosie remained secluded in her room. The curtains were down, and the mansion fell into a quiet routine, the joy and laughter that had once filled its hall disappeared just like it never once happened.
Frank continued his work in the garden, hoping the flower could cheer the lady again, but her window remained closed. He often looks at Rosie's window, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, it's never open, and a few years have passed.
At the beginning of spring, Frank is sent to Paris by Lord Thompson to collect a few pots of flowers which were given by his close friend. Frank had a hard time finding the address and ended up staying until evening to be able to return. Since the air is still cold at night, Frank decides to get some brandy to warm up his body on the road.
While walking in a dimly lit alley, he stumbles upon a sight that makes his blood run cold. A man, dressed in fine attire, is holding a woman close, his lip pressed to her neck. Frank froze in terror, but as he watched, he noticed something strange—the woman was not struggling.
Instead, she is moaning softly, as if in pleasure. When the man finally released her, she stood up, her eyes glowing with an unnatural light, her body radiating strength and vitality.
"Come out," the man said, with a stone-cold face.
Frank's body is trembling in fear as the man speaks to him. He slowly comes out from his hiding and kneels upon these two, looking down, afraid to make eye contact with the man.
"It's rude to peek at people enjoying their feast." He glared at him with an intimidating eyes.
In a glance, Frank immediately knows that the man standing in front of him is an Aristocrat, "I.. I apologize, my lord," Frank said, his voice shaking.
The man suddenly smiles with interest, "You are working for the Aristocrat, aren't you?"
"Yes.. my lord," he answered genuinely.
The man walks closer to Frank, "Rise your head," he is waiting patiently. And when Frank raised his head, he continued, "Why don't you become a vampire, I can make you my servant."
Frank's body is washed by cold sweat when he meet eye with the nobleman. "If I can ask, what is a vampire, your grace?"
When Frank finishes with his word, he can see the woman is hissing at him, making him fall back to looking at the ground. It was like she was jealous, that her master's attention was taken away from her.
"Well, a vampire is a perfect being with incredible power, we won't die of illness and can live forever. See, how strong a vampire is."
Frank's fear immediately turned to hope. He looked up and asked the nobleman in desperation, "Can a vampire cure a broken leg, your grace?"
The nobleman lifted one of his brow and asked in confusion, "A broken leg? Well, if one becomes a vampire, their leg might heal by itself."
Frank's heart race. He thought of Rosie, trapped in her room, her dream shattered. "It's my lady, your grace. She needs treatment."
The nobleman's smile widened. "I'm not a doctor, I can't see her," he said and returned to the woman's side. "But I can help you turn into a vampire so you can turn your lady yourself."
"I can do that?" he asks.
"Of course, you can," the nobleman said and gestured to the woman beside him. "She will turn you."
Frank didn't hesitate. The woman steps forward, her gaze fixed on him with a hunger that both terrifies and thrills him. She bit down on his neck, and in that moment, Frank's world went dark.
The nobleman smiles wickedly, and leaves Frank's by himself to disappear into nowhere with the woman.
When he awakens, he feels a surge of power coursing through his veins as well as an incredible thirst that he never felt before. But he didn't want to waste more time, so he hurried back to the mansion holding back the thirst.
That night, under the cover of darkness, he slipped into her room. Rosie, laying on her bed, her eyes were dull, reflecting the years of pain and sorrow she had endured. Her once radiant beauty had wither away, replaced by pale, fragile form.
When she saw Frank, she barely recognized him, but there was something in his eyes that gave her pause.
"Frank?" she whispers, her voice weak.
"I can make you whole again, my lady," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I can make you dance again."
Rosie's eyes fill with tears. She had long given up hope, resigned to a life of misery. But the promise of Frank's voice, the desperation in his eyes, gave her a glimmer of something she hadn't felt in years—hope.
Before coming here, Frank had thought of turning Lady Rosie without disdaining her Aristocrat status, so he decided to do it in another way, "Your hand, my lady," Frank said.
She nodded, extending her wrist to him, too tired and too broken to resist. Frank takes her hand, his heart pounding, and bit down gently, his new fang piercing her skin.
The moment Frank's taste the first blood, his mind suddenly went blank. His eyes glowing with strange light, the only thing his head thought of is "Not enough," he murmured.
He raised and pin Lady Rosie on her bed and violently bit down on her neck sucking her blood. Rosie didn't resist him, instead calmly stroking Frank's back and telling him, "Slow down, Frank."
Frank is able to return to his senses when he hears Rosie's weak, yet warm voice. He jumps away from her immediately and kneels on the floor. "I apologize, Lady Rosie, I didn't mean to, I was…"
"It's fine," Rosie gasps as the pain in her neck and wrist vanish, replaced by a surge of energy. She could feel her strength return, her body mending itself. Within a moment, she is standing, her once broken leg now fully healed.
Rosie begins to dance impatiently, it is as if no time has passed, as if the year of pain had never happened. She twirls and leaps across the room, her heart soaring with joy. Frank watched, tears streaming down his face, as the woman he admired became an angel once more.