"I have been waiting for someone to come and kill me all these years," Rosie said, while placing her hand against Marx's hand and leading the sharp edge of the silver dagger pointed at her heart.
"If you want to die, why don't you do it yourself sooner?" Marx asks in a spurt of moments.
Tears welled up in her eyes, her sorrow evident in every word she spoke, "I'm not allow to die, as long as that man is alive." she let out a sob, her body shaking with the effort of holding herself together.
Marx looks up at her, his expression is a mix. He didn't let his guard down a slight but he did understand her plea, with a deep breath, Marx nod, a silent agreement to grant her wish.
Meanwhile, in another room, Cherie is interrogating Frank, the gardener. Frank's face is lined with the weariness of the years, his eyes fill with memories of the fateful night. Cherie's patience is wearing thin as he presses for detail about the nobleman vampire.
"Tell me, where did you meet this nobleman vampire? What did he look like? Give me something useful." His tone is sharp.
Frank shakes his head slowly, his expression one of regret and confusion. "I only met him once in Paris, and it was a long time ago. I don't even know his name, and the night was dark. I barely saw his face. I only know he wore fine nobleman attire but beyond that…I don't recall"
Cherie sighed, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "It's no use talking to you anymore. Perhaps it's best if we end this now."
Frank nods, a sad smile on his face. "I understand. She might as well can't wait any longer for me to die." He closed his eyes, a single tear rolled down his cheek as he thought of Rosie and reminisced about the night that changed everything.
Day turns into weeks, since that fateful night turns both Frank and Rosie into a vampire. Frank stands in the garden, staring at the moon. The nobleman's words echoed in his mind, but they now ring hollow and deceptive. The promise of a cure for Rosie had come at a terrible cost.
"I was a fool," he whispered, clenching his fist. The nobleman had not mentioned the price, the inability to bask in the daylight, the insatiable hunger for blood.
As Frank walked back to the mansion, his mind was filled with sorrow and regret. He wanted to help Rosie, to see her dance again and be happy. But now, she was even more trapped than before. Instead of dancing under the sun, she was confined to her room, living in the shadows, her existence hidden from the world.
Each night, it became Frank's duty to provide Rosie with what she needed to survive. He would hunt animals in the forest, squeezing the blood from their body into a glass, and then bring it to her. He knocks gently on her door before entering, his heart heavy with guilt.
"Excuse me, lady Rosie, It's me, Frank"
Rosie sits by the window, smiling at him with dull and distant eyes. She takes the glass from the table, her hand trembling slightly as she drinks. The blood sustained her, but it did not satisfy her. It's a poor substitute for what her body craves for.
"Thank you, Frank." she said softly, her voice barely a whisper.
Frank shakes his head, his eyes fill with regret. "I'm sorry, my lady. I thought this would make things better. But I see now I was wrong."
Rosie managed a small smile, trying to comfort him despite her own pain. "You did what you thought was right. I don't blame you."
After leaving Rosie's room, Frank would venture out again, searching for another victim to feed on. His own hunger was growing stronger as well, but his concern for Rosie is greater. He wants to find a way to ease her suffering, to make things right.
That night, as Rosie sits alone in her room, she feels the familiar pang of hunger gnawing at her inside. The animal blood is no longer enough to satisfy her. She tries to push the thought away, to distract herself with memories of her dancing day. But the hunger was relentless, and it was becoming harder to ignore.
Suddenly, a loud thud echoed through the mansion, followed by a sharp cry of pain. Rosie's senses are sharper, her eyes glowing with unnatural light. The scent of blood filled the air, and she knew what it was. A maid has fallen from the stairs and is bleeding.
Rosie's heart pounding in her chest as the hunger surged within her. Her body moved on its own, driven by instinct she could no longer control. She opens the door and steps out into the hallway, her gaze fixed on the source of the intoxicating scent.
As she approached the top of the stairs, Rosie saw the maid lying at the bottom, her head bleeding, the sight is both terrifying and mesmerizing, and Rosie's mouth water at the thought of tasting the warm, rich blood.
"No," she whispered to herself, trying to resist the urge. But something inside Rosie snapped and the hunger had taken over, and she is no longer in control. With a cry of despair, Rosie leaped down the stairs, her fang bared and her eyes blazing with terrible light.
One by one, she hunts down the member of the household, her parent, the servant. The massacre was swift, brutal, and in the end, the once-grand mansion was filled with nothing but death.
Frank returns to the mansion that night, only to find Rosie standing alone in the garden, surrounded by the body of those she had once loved. She was covered in blood, her once beautiful dress stained red, her eyes wild with madness.
He approached her slowly, his heart breaking as he realized what she had done, "Lady Rosie…"
She turned to him, her face twisted in sorrow and rage, "You did this to me." she whispered, her voice was filled with hatred so deep it cut him to the core.
The angel had fallen from grace.
Marx sat alone on the grand entrance stairs of the mansion, his gaze fixed on the moon. The pale light cast a silvery sheen over the grounds, reflecting off the marble steps and the tree swaying gently in the night breeze.
The air is cold, but Marx hardly notices it. His mind is elsewhere, replaying the moment he thrust the silver dagger into the vampire's heart. He could still see her eyes, filled with a haunting mix of sorrow and relief.
A vampire with no will to live, someone who had begged for release from the torment of her existence. The memory weighs heavily on him, a knot of conflicting emotion, tightening in his chest.
As Marx sits lost in thought, the sounds of footsteps on the gravel path catch his attention. He turned his head to see Cherie approaching, a cheerful smile playing on his lips despite the late hour. Cherie's bright green eyes sparkled in the moonlight, and his blonde hair caught the faint glow, giving him an almost ethereal appearance.
The moment Cherie emerges from the mansion, he immediately hugs himself and grit his teeth. "So cold—-" his elegant stance immediately vanished.
Cherie rushed toward Marx and sat by his side, "You look like you need a hug, especially on a cold night like this. Want to warm up with some company?"
"No." Marx replied with a stone-cold expression.
Cherie makes a disappointed face, "Why??"
"Just shut up." He demanded.
Cherie immediately sealed up his mouth. The two men sit in a comfortable silence for a moment, each lost in their thoughts.
"I've fought vampires for years, but this is the first time I:ve seen one who wanted to die." Marx said suddenly.
Cherie leaned back, looking up at the moon. "Well, sometimes that happens."
Marx sighed, his breath forming a mist in the cold air.
The two men sit there, sharing the quiet of the night. As hours pass, the sky begins to lighten, the star fading one by one as the sun prepares to rise.