Chapter Text
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Yeonjun stood in front of the mirror and smoothed his hair back into a small ponytail. He noted that he was probably due for a haircut before deeming his looks acceptable and exiting the bathroom. He pressed his ear against his younger brother’s door, listening for signs of movement, before knocking loudly.
“Hurry up, Beoms,” he yelled. “We can’t be late.”
He heard Beomgyu groan through the door.
“I thought vampires were nocturnal creatures, so why do we have to be up at the ass crack of dawn?”
“Hilarious,” Yeonjun replied flatly. “Try telling that joke today and see where you end up. We’re leaving in five minutes, by the way – even if I have to drag you out myself.”
He walked into the kitchen to find that his mother was already awake. Her eyes were slightly glossed over, which told Yeonjun that today was not going to be a lucid day for her.
“Morning, Ma,” he said, walking up and placing a soft kiss on her forehead.
“Morning,” she beamed. “What have you boys got planned for today? A trip downtown, maybe?”
“No, Ma. It’s Benefaction Day, remember?” Yeonjun replied, taking one of her hands in his and running his thumb along her protruding knuckles.
“Oh, right.” She added, her brows furrowing momentarily, “But maybe after, you two could head into the city. There’s probably a game on tonight at the stadium, right? Your father used to drag me to them all the time when we were young.”
Yeonjun hadn’t yet been born when the war broke out in his town. So when his mother spoke fondly about life before, he wasn’t sure which parts she was making up. His father had been a soldier who lost his life fighting the blood-sustaining demons that now made up the ruling class. The loss had been hard on their family – both financially, as he had been the sole provider, and emotionally. Yeonjun’s mother had never fully recovered. Some days she acted as if he was going to walk through the door that night; on others, she didn’t leave her bedroom.
The only slight benefit of her condition was that the vampires deemed her blood poisoned, and she was exempt from the monthly donation required from all adult humans in the town. The vampires considered this tithing to be generous, and they consistently reminded the humans that they should be eternally grateful for the opportunity to live a relatively “normal” life – while conveniently ignoring the fact that they displaced thousands of humans when they claimed the downtown area as clan territory.
“We aren’t allowed to go downtown, Ma.”
His mother’s brow furrowed, her mouth parting in confusion.
Beomgyu strolled into the kitchen at that moment, his hair still messy, wearing a brown pullover and plain black jeans.
“He’s kidding, Ma. Heading downtown sounds like a fantastic idea,” he said lightly.
Yeonjun’s eyes shot Beomgyu a warning, but he turned back to his mother.
“We’ll be back later, okay? Make sure you eat something.”
She smiled faintly and turned to open the fridge, her movements slow and absent-minded.
Once they were out the door, Yeonjun rounded on Beomgyu.
“You shouldn’t validate her delusions. It’ll just make things harder for her on the days when she’s actually aware of what’s going on.”
Beomgyu shrugged, unbothered. “Isn’t protecting her feelings more important than the truth sometimes?” he asked, his tone softer now.
Yeonjun gave a short, humourless laugh. “You are naive.” He paused, studying Beomgyu’s face. “Anyway… are you nervous about your first Benefaction Day?”
Beomgyu shook his head. “Not at all. I’m excited to gorge myself at the feast afterwards. Is it true they don’t limit your portion sizes? I can’t remember the last time I ate a meal I didn’t have to ration.”
Yeonjun felt his cheeks warm slightly. The military had given their family a lump sum when his father was killed – money meant to tide them over until their mother could find work. But by the time Yeonjun was thirteen, he’d realised she would never be mentally able to hold a job, and he knew he had to take matters into his own hands.
One of his classmates had introduced him to the underground blood-selling trade. Apparently, the monthly blood tithing wasn’t rationed evenly amongst the clan, and many vampires sought other ways to obtain their sustenance. While the thought of being forced to donate his blood every month was demeaning, profiting from it made Yeonjun feel marginally more powerful. It also meant he could provide for his family.
He made sure that whatever remained after paying their bills went into an account for Beomgyu’s tertiary education. The university in the city was extremely prestigious, offering only ten spots to humans each year. Those who graduated were almost guaranteed powerful jobs – and often exempt from Benefaction Day.
The downside was that it left just enough money to keep the family barely fed. Yeonjun and Beomgyu had never known the luxury of feeling full as children. But when Yeonjun thought about how their sacrifices might give Beomgyu a better life, he knew he didn’t regret a thing.
“Make sure you don’t just gravitate towards the desserts. Personally, I always get an intense sugar craving after losing so much blood. But you need iron the most – and vitamin C will help your body absorb it,” Yeonjun scolded.
“Yes, Dad,” Beomgyu replied.
The closest clinic to their house was only a ten-minute walk away, which Yeonjun was grateful for. The medium-sized brick building had clearly once been some kind of shop; faded signs still hung from the ceiling, their lettering barely legible after years of neglect.
Three lower-level vampires stood guard at the entrance, checking names off a register as people entered. Yeonjun wasn’t overly familiar with the intricacies of vampire hierarchies – despite the subject being an entire unit at school – but he knew the powerful ones didn’t waste their time with menial jobs at blood clinics.
He stepped up to the vampire on the left, pulling Beomgyu along beside him.
“Names?” the vampire asked.
“Choi Yeonjun.” He turned to Beomgyu, who was paling by the second. Yeonjun supposed there was something unsettling about all vampires the first time you saw one – the way their skin looked cool to the touch, the faint red tinge in their eyes. But after enough encounters, the effect dulled.
“This is Choi Beomgyu. It’s his first time,” he added.
The vampire grunt flipped through some pages before marking their names off.
“If it’s your first time, you’ll have to see one of the nurses first for an evaluation. Head inside and immediately to the left.”
Beomgyu looked at Yeonjun, horrified, his eyes wide and trembling. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, fingers twitching nervously.
“Can I escort him?” Yeonjun asked.
“No. Head to the right, as usual. He’s an adult, no?”
Yeonjun nodded and pulled the shaking Beomgyu through the doors. He turned to face him and placed his hands on both his shoulders, lowering his voice.
“It’s okay, Beoms. They just ask a couple of questions about your health to assess your eligibility. Trust me, this whole thing doesn’t even hurt. It’s just a little uncomfortable. And in no time, we’ll be stuffing our faces with food, okay? I’ll wait for you.”
Beomgyu’s breath came in short, uneven gasps. His legs wobbled slightly, but he nodded. Yeonjun squeezed him reassuringly and let him be taken by a nurse before turning and heading to the right.
Yeonjun felt horrible that Beomgyu even had to be subjected to this, and he wished he could shelter his baby brother forever. He hoped that Beomgyu would be accepted into the university – and then he would never have to do this again.
He sat down on the nearest seat in the hallway, staring at the faded yellow curtains that separated him from those currently having their blood drawn. He wondered how the vampire staff who ran these clinics kept from going crazy and stealing the blood for themselves, considering how potent the smell must be in this place. Yeonjun was born without a sense of smell, so it was hard for him to imagine the amount of control vampires needed to be around so much blood.
“Yeonjun, come in!”
He looked up to see Yunjin, the vampire he sold his blood to.
“Yunjin,” he said, stepping behind the curtain and heading to the upright bed in the middle of the room. “I didn’t know you were a nurse.”
It wasn’t that Yeonjun would call Yunjin ‘one of the good ones’ – his distaste for vampires ran deep because of how their actions had hurt his mother – but he had known her for almost ten years now, and she paid him handsomely for his blood. So, in some twisted way, he was grateful for her existence.
“I’m trying something different,” she said. “Immortality can be boring. Besides, I’m practically an expert at drawing blood.” She winked.
While Yunjin looked no older than Yeonjun himself – with sharp, angular features, waist-long chocolate brown hair that contrasted strikingly with her pale, flawless skin, and dark eyes flecked with hints of red – he knew she was closer to three hundred years old. She carried herself with an effortless grace, every movement controlled and precise. He also knew she was extremely wealthy – not just from dealing in human blood – but likely from being a noble or well-respected vampire in their clan.
Yeonjun pulled the sleeves of his hoodie up so Yunjin had easier access to his veins and rested his head on the headrest behind him.
“You seem on edge today,” Yunjin noted, her eyes sharp but not unkind as she wiped the crook of his elbow and pressed two fingers gently on his arm.
“It’s my younger brother’s first Benefaction Day.”
She paused for a moment, “Makes sense. He’s the princess of the family, right?” she said flatly. “This will sting a bit.”
Yeonjun clenched his jaw as she slid the needle into his vein, sucking in a breath but forcing himself not to watch the dark blood fill the bag beside him. The sterile quiet of the clinic felt heavier today, the faint hum of machines blending with the distant footsteps outside.
“I protect him, if that’s what you mean,” he finally said, his voice low but steady.
A small, almost knowing smile touched her lips as she taped the needle in place. Her fingers lingered for a moment – a brief, almost imperceptible gesture of reassurance.
“You know the drill. I’ll be back in about half an hour to check on you. If you need me, just hit the button to your right.”
Yeonjun rested his head on the back of the chair and stared up at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. He wondered how Beomgyu was doing. Hopefully, he was being cooperative – Yeonjun knew Beomgyu had a tendency to be stubborn and dramatic. Without Yeonjun there to diffuse any potential conflict, he started to feel nervous that something might be going wrong.
Through the thin curtain, he could hear the general buzz of chatter, which, he had to admit, sounded louder than usual today. He tried to hone his hearing to figure out what the excitement was about – sue him, he was nosy – but all he could really catch were snippets like “really?” and “why would he be here?”. It was just intriguing enough to pique his interest, but frustratingly vague.
Yunjin came back in when the donation was finished and removed the needle from his arm, holding a cotton bud to the wound.
“All done,” she said, smiling. “Are we still meeting at our usual time next week?”
“Yes,” Yeonjun responded. “Did the rich mystery buyer buy again last month? I’m almost there with Beomgyu’s university fees, but I also want to give him a gift before he goes.”
“Oh, are congratulations in order?”
“He hasn’t received his offer letter yet, but he will. He’s incredibly smart and charismatic – it’s only a matter of days now.”
“Well, don’t worry about it. That buyer hasn’t missed a sale in three years. You can buy your little brother a gift. Now get out of here and enjoy your feast.”
Yeonjun waved goodbye and headed down the hallway towards the large common room at the end. He opened the door and peered inside, hoping somehow Beomgyu had beaten him there – but his brother was nowhere to be seen. He lingered around the tables to see what this month’s offering of food was. There was almost every kind imaginable, from fresh fruits and cheeses to cooked meats and vegetables. Even a dessert table was adorned with different flavours of jelly and ice cream.
For the first few Benefaction Days, Yeonjun refused to eat. He couldn’t bear the thought of joining the humans who chatted excitedly about the meal, pretending it was a celebration rather than a grim necessity. He didn’t want to diminish the fact that vampires were subjugating humans, forcing them to give up their life essence every month to sustain the lives of those who raped and pillaged their city.
But after the fourth or fifth time, walking home alone, the weakness hit him like a wave. His vision blurred and whitened at the edges, his face flushed with heat. Darkness closed in before he collapsed onto the grass a block from his house. When he came to hours later, staring up at the indifferent stars, he knew he couldn’t keep pushing himself like this.
That night, his mother was lucid. When he told her what had happened, she sighed deeply.
“My darling,” she said softly, preparing him a bowl of soup. “Don’t hurt yourself more. Your pain isn’t worth it. Next time, make sure you eat plenty – for me, not for the vampires, okay?”
Yeonjun had agreed. Since then, he spent every Benefaction Day feast eating as much as his stomach could handle, thinking of his mother with every bite.
Beomgyu walked through the doors to the feast shortly after, looking a little pale and frantic. He resembled his child self, and Yeonjun’s heart throbbed, thinking about how he couldn’t shield his brother from every bit of pain.
Scooping up a cupcake, Yeonjun rushed to Beomgyu’s side and held him steady.
“Eat this.” He handed over the cupcake. “Let’s get you sat down.”
Beomgyu nodded and let himself be led to a row of plastic chairs along the outer walls of the room.
“I thought you said I should be going for iron-heavy food first?” Beomgyu said weakly.
“Yeah, but you looked like you needed this.”
Beomgyu smiled and ate his cupcake. After a few minutes, Yeonjun could see the colour return to Beomgyu’s face, and his chest loosened a little.
“Vampires are so eerie,” Beomgyu commented. “They smell like vanilla.”
“Isn’t vanilla a pleasant scent, though?” Yeonjun wasn’t certain, but he enjoyed vanilla-flavoured sweets, so he assumed the smell was the same.
“Yes, but it’s sort of… artificial. I don’t know, I can’t explain it.”
Now seeming much more his normal self, Yeonjun took Beomgyu to the tables and watched as Beomgyu’s eyes lit up with delight at the wide array of food available. The room wasn’t too busy yet, so they could eat whatever they wanted without worrying it would disappear soon.
Yeonjun was halfway through a sausage patty when the doors to the blood donation rooms burst open and Yunjin beelined straight for him. She grabbed his arm and scanned the room.
“Where’s your brother?” she said hurriedly.
“What’s going on?”
“You both need to get out of here now. Just go home. I’ll explain everything when I see you next week – if I see you next week.”
“What are you talking about?!”
“Just GO! Now!”
Yunjin’s eyes were deepening to a darker shade of red, and her grip on his arm was iron-tight. Against his better judgment, Yeonjun agreed.
He grabbed Beomgyu’s arm and dragged him toward the back exit, shushing his protests as they hurried out of the building.
They ran for a couple of minutes before Beomgyu pulled on Yeonjun’s arm to stop him.
“Jun,” Beomgyu said, out of breath, “can we slow down? I feel light-headed.”
“Yeah, let’s go here so we can’t be seen,” Yeonjun replied, pulling Beomgyu into an alley between a small convenience store and a laundromat.
Beomgyu stood with his hands braced on his knees, trying to catch his breath, while Yeonjun scanned the perimeter to see if they had been followed.
“So,” Beomgyu said eventually, “do you want to explain what in God’s name that was about?”
“I’m not entirely sure myself. Yu– this vampire came up to me and told me to get out. I don’t question evil demons when they tell me to leave a place.”
Beomgyu gave Yeonjun a look like he thought Yeonjun wasn’t being entirely honest – which was technically true. Sort of. If omitting that the vampire was one Yeonjun secretly dealt blood to so they could make money to survive, could be considered lying.
After Beomgyu had recovered, and Yeonjun was certain no one was gaining on them, they continued briskly walking home.
As they rounded the street where their house stood, Beomgyu scrunched his nose.
“Hyung. It smells like something’s burning.”
It almost didn’t click for Yeonjun – then it hit him. They lived in a relatively empty area, the houses around them nearly all unoccupied.
He didn’t know who started running first.
The anxious feeling growing in the pit of his stomach deepened when he saw their house in the distance, engulfed in thick, choking black smoke that billowed relentlessly into the grey sky.
“Ma!” Yeonjun yelled, his voice cracking with desperation.
His feet pounded the pavement, heart hammering as he sprinted toward the house, breath ragged in his chest.
When they reached the front door, Yeonjun immediately threw it open. Smoke filled his lungs, and he doubled over, coughing violently.
Regaining his composure, he pulled his T-shirt up over his nose and continued into the house. He found his mother sitting at the kitchen table, looking none the wiser.
“Ma,” he said worriedly, “can’t you see the smoke? Where is it coming from?”
“Hm?” she said, looking around. “Oh, I’m not sure.”
Yeonjun ushered her to follow Beomgyu outside and then hurried back into the kitchen. The entire oven was engulfed in flames.
He felt helpless as he frantically searched the room for something to smother the fire.
Eventually, he ran into the bathroom, tore down the shower curtain, and threw it over the flames. It seemed to help a little, so he dashed to his bedroom, ripped off his quilt, and threw it across the remaining fire.
He stepped back and watched as the lack of oxygen began to suffocate the flames. As the smoke cleared, he took in the damage to the kitchen – it was severe. Most of the appliances were unrecognisable, and the wallpaper curled and bubbled off the walls.
Trying to compartmentalise, he headed outside to check on his mother. She and Beomgyu were sitting on the grass out front, and Beomgyu was holding one of her hands, which appeared to have sustained moderate burns.
“What happened?” Yeonjun asked, voice tight with urgency.
Beomgyu looked up at him, his eyes heavy with sadness.
“She was cooking morning tea for Dad.”
“Yes!” their mother said, her face lighting up for a brief moment. “He’ll be home soon. I need to prepare something for him. He works so hard protecting us.”
Yeonjun’s heart clenched painfully. “Ma,” he said firmly, “he’s not coming home.”
“Yeonjun,” Beomgyu warned through clenched teeth, his voice low but fierce.
“Don’t be silly, darling,” their mother insisted, pushing past him and moving toward the house, her steps unsteady but determined.
Yeonjun’s gaze followed her, a storm of frustration and helplessness brewing inside him. He knew arguing was useless; the part of her still clinging to hope was stronger than any truth he could force on her.
“We need to get her medical attention for the burns and all the smoke she inhaled,” Yeonjun said, turning to Beomgyu. His voice softened slightly, but the urgency remained. “Run to Namjoon’s and see if he’ll drive us.”
Beomgyu nodded without hesitation, already moving toward the street.
The local clinic was about a fifteen-minute drive from their house and only ever had two staff doctors on at any given time. Yeonjun prayed his mother’s injuries weren’t severe. If they were, they’d have no choice but to go to the hospital downtown – and that meant getting approval from the vampires first.
The waiting room was cramped, with faded plastic chairs and a front desk wedged in the corner. A fan hummed overhead, doing nothing to cut the stuff heat.
Yeonjun kept one arm wrapped around his mother’s shoulders as Beomgyu handled the paperwork. Every so often, his mother tried to stand, muttering about needing to get home to make tea, and Yeonjun had to gently press her back down.
A nurse in pale green scrubs emerged from behind the desk, her eyes flicking over them with professional detachment before settling on his mother’s burned hand. “We’ll take her through now,” she said, voice clipped.
Yeonjun stood to follow, but the nurse blocked him with a glance. “Only one of you. Clinic rules.”
Beomgyu looked between them. “I’ll go,” he said quickly.
Yeonjun hesitated. He didn’t like being shut out, especially now, but lingering in the waiting room was safer than pressing his luck. He sank back into his seat, listening to the distant murmur of voices from behind the curtain. Every second felt drawn out.
When Beomgyu finally returned with their mother, she had fresh gauze wrapped around her hand and a faint smear of ointment on her cheek. She was quieter now, but her gaze was still fixed somewhere far away.
“She needs rest,” Beomgyu said simply. “And… they told us to watch her breathing. If it gets worse, we’ll have to go to the hospital.”
Yeonjun nodded, his jaw tight.
When they got home, and their mother was in her bed, Yeonjun flopped onto his mattress, but he didn’t sleep at all.
Part of it was the cold – his blanket lay in the kitchen, blackened and stiff from the fire – but most of it was the thoughts gnawing at him.
Now that the smoke had cleared, the reality was impossible to ignore. The kitchen was destroyed. They had no insurance, no savings for this sort of disaster.
Well. He did have the money to replace it, technically – but it sat in a separate account, carefully saved for Beomgyu’s university fees. The thought of touching it made his stomach twist. That fund was Beomgyu’s escape route. His ticket to something better. And Yeonjun was about to snatch it away before his brother even had the chance to use it.
He lay in the dark, tossing and turning, running through impossible options. No matter how he twisted it, the answer was the same: they couldn’t live without a kitchen, and they needed one now.
The weight of it pressed down until he couldn’t hold it in. He buried his face in the pillow and let the sobs come quietly, shaking his shoulders. He felt like a failure – like every sacrifice their father had made, every plan Yeonjun had clung to for their future, had just gone up in smoke with the wallpaper.
Beomgyu deserved more than this life. More than him.
The day of his usual meetup with Yunjin came, and Yeonjun debated not going. After their strange interaction at the blood clinic the previous week, he wasn’t sure if she would even show up.
On top of that, he still felt deflated from draining Beomgyu’s university fund to pay for the new kitchen. He hadn’t worked up the courage to tell him either, and the guilt made him feel physically sick every time he looked at him. He was a coward. A pathetic coward of an older brother who had ruined Beomgyu’s life, and Beomgyu – sweet, trusting Beomgyu – had no idea.
It was that guilt that eventually pushed Yeonjun out of the house. He felt like he couldn’t breathe when he watched his baby brother giggle and smile, completely unaware that Yeonjun had doomed him.
He pulled on a hoodie and zipped it up before making up a lie about where he was going, then stepped out the door. He’d considered not wearing the hoodie – the daytime sun was growing warmer as summer approached – but the night air still carried a chill that settled deep in his bones.
The streets were quiet under the soft hum of streetlamps. There was an unofficial curfew, so hardly anyone was out. Even though vampires rarely ventured to the scattered clusters of human civilisation outside the downtown districts, the old fears still lingered – echoes of a war that had ended two decades ago, but never really left. He eventually reached their usual meeting place – an old restaurant that had been closed for years, yet still stood like a snapshot of a time that had long passed.
Inside, Yunjin sat at one of the tables, but she didn’t have her usual equipment set up. Instead, she was hunched forward, staring at nothing, her fingers drumming restlessly against the wood.
Her head snapped up the moment the door creaked shut behind him. Her eyes were wild – haunted – and Yeonjun froze. He had never seen her like this. Yunjin was normally the picture of control, every movement deliberate.
“Yeonjun,” she said, her voice trembling in a way that set off alarm bells in his chest. “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t have time to process what she meant.
From the shadows, two tall vampires stepped forward. Their presence seemed to swallow the dim light, making the room feel suddenly smaller.
Yeonjun turned, ready to bolt, but his human reflexes were laughable in the face of theirs. The taller of the two – a lean vampire with black hair and sharp, steady eyes – was already behind him, blocking the door.
“Sit down,” he commanded. The voice was deep, but not laced with anger.
Yeonjun obeyed without hesitation, lowering himself into one of the empty chairs. The legs scraped across the floor, the sound far too loud in the silence.
He glanced at Yunjin. She still hadn’t moved, her posture stiff, her eyes fixed on him with something between guilt and dread.
The vampire stepped closer, his presence pressing in like a shadow stretching too far.
“My name is Choi Soobin,” he said evenly, his gaze never leaving Yeonjun’s. “And I need you to do me a favour.”