Hanging upside down from the obsidian chandelier above, the youngster contemplated his plight.
His situation was quite awkward and swinging….'literally'.
The chains swung back and forth, showing him the same gruesome yet tantalizing scene over and over. Blood, guts, flesh, boots, thighs and more blood.
A never-ending cycle of poor decision-making and terrible timing.
There was silence in the dim room.
The atmosphere was filled with anticipation and mild amusement, rather than silence.
"Done staring?" the woman finally questioned. Her voice was soft and sophisticated, like velvet steeped in wine, but there was something piercing below.
A blade wrapped in silk.
she smiled.
The kind of smile that unnervingly said, 'I find you cute.' It was in the way a cat finds a mouse cute before it chews off its legs.
"…Ah..Yes. For now, I'd say I'm just hanging out," he replied with dry humour, trying to sound braver than he felt.
The words came out strained, upside-down lungs weren't exactly designed for silly remarks after all.
She tilted her head slightly, studying him like he was an abstract painting she couldn't quite decide whether to mock or burn.
"You're quite composed for someone who is dangling in front of his possible death."
"I've had worse mornings."
"That so?"
"I once woke up with a rat in my mouth. Alive at that. This….This is almost mild in comparison."
A lovely chuckle escaped her lips, and something inside his gut squirmed—not just from gravity.
No, the worst part wasn't the danger. It was how much fun she seemed to be having. Like he was the appetizer to her boredom.
He looked in her way again, this time with slightly more clarity.
There was no blemish or scar, simply unholy perfection that made you want to reach out to ensure she was genuine.
But everything else about her seemed incorrect.
Not the kind of wrong that gets in your face. The sort that sends shivers down your spine and causes your instincts to curl up and cry.
And the shocking part?
This woman was the vampiric maid's so-called 'Madame.'
The mother of the two sisters he saved.
'What mother? This sexy bitch looks like she's their cousin or third sister!' he screamed inwardly to the high heavens.
'Why, fucker!, Why in the seven hells do the women I've seen today look like walking sin? Fuck. Here I am, cute little gremlin barely sixteen and she's a goddess, or worse, a damn succubus, despite being old—'
He halted the thought midway as her crimson eyes narrowed sharply.
"You just thought something disrespectful, didn't you?" she asked, voice calm, but laced with a deadly poison.
"...…."
"I-I did not dare to, ma'am," he stammered, doing his best to sound innocent, but a deadly chill slithered down his spine. Or… up in his case.
Gravity was being a bitch for him today.
'Damnit! Is she reading my mind?' he wondered, sweat trickling…or climbing on his skin.
What he didn't realize was that women also have a sixth sense. It's simply highly tuned for age-related issues.
Especially when the one raising the 'issue' was a sixteen-year-old brat, dangling upside down, and practically disrespecting a vampire who looked like royalty on that eerie throne—and probably was.
'Nope. She's definitely someone powerful. My bitch of a sixth sense is screaming it... so it's probably right ... .Hopefully.'
Across from him, she shifted slightly, just enough to cross one smooth leg over the other, her expression unreadable but her gaze absolutely devouring.
"Oh?" she said lightly, tapping a blood-slick nail on the armrest. "But contrary to what you say, your heart rate just jumped."
'She can hear my heartbeat?!'
Panic flared in his chest. 'No. Not now. Think, idiot—divert, distract her!'
He blinked hard, forcing a shaky smile.
"No, no. I was just… admiring a very charming lady who I absolutely do not want to offend in any way possible. Ever."
There was a moment of silence.
A long one.
Her eyes bore into him, unreadable.
Then her smile widened, just enough to reveal the edge of her pearly canines.
"I hate liars."
Her voice dropped, velvet still, but with an unmistakable edge of steel.
"Petty deceits won't work on me, human brat. Butter me up again, and I'll peel your tongue off for the effort."
She tapped the armrest.
"I despise those who fake their way through appearances. Speak the truth. No pretense in front of me. And if you'd like a demonstration of what happens to those who don't, I'm more than happy to oblige."
"..."
'Shit, she's not bluffing.'
He went still for a beat, something about her words poking at a part of him he didn't like people seeing.
There was no malice in her words—no venom or rage.
Just... a flat disinterest in masks.
And somehow, that was more unnerving than outright hostility.
'Here I was thinking I was the only one who could sniff out lies. The weird one.'
A dull numbness settled in his mind.
As far back as he could remember, the streets had been full of masks, thin, cracked veils of deceit worn like armor.
Even a tiny speck of trust in another person can become your bane.
And for a weak and lone slum rat like him, lying wasn't a sin.
It was a means of survival. It was how he got bread in his mouth.
He bit back a sigh, bitter amusement curling at the edges of his thoughts
'Nope. This woman? She's on a whole other plane of lunacy.'
His eyes flicked toward the ground, then back to her.
Then again...
'Screw it. I'm just some street scum. Probably won't make it past the week, anyway.'
He squared his jaw and stared up at her, awkwardly, given the upside-down position, trying not to flinch at the sheer pressure in her gaze.
"Really?" he asked, hesitantly.
"Really," she replied.
"Like, for real really—"
The chandelier groaned loudly.
He swayed a little and received the message.
Or a threat, more like.
So, he instantly shut the fuck up.
"What's your name, boy?" she asked casually, like she was picking a wine, not addressing someone dangling upside-down.
"Raven. Just Raven," he replied, a beat late.
Her eyes rested on him with mild curiosity now. Not warm, not cold—just... interested.
Like someone spotting an odd bird mid-flight.
"Raven?" she repeated, arching a brow. "Dramatic, aren't we?"
He gave a lopsided grin, awkward, sheepish, and a little annoyed.
"Wasn't my idea originally."
She waited, clearly expecting more.
He sighed. "It was the hair," he muttered, rolling his eyes up, not in defiance, just habit. "Black as a raven's wing, those scums said. Real creative stuff."
Her brow lifted slightly, intrigued.
"And back then I used to, uh... pick through garbage. Scavenge food. Like a damn crow over shiny wrappers," he added with a self-deprecating chuckle. "So the street rats started calling me that. 'Raven.' Guess it stuck."
He shrugged as much as his bound body allowed. "Could've been worse. 'Trash Rat' doesn't exactly roll off the tongue."
He paused.
"Anyway... I liked the sound of it. Simple and a hundred times better than not having a name at all."
Her tapping stopped.
She leaned back, something unreadable crossing her face, half-thoughtful, half-amused.
Then her fingers resumed their slow rhythm on the throne's armrest.
"So, Raven, did my maid tell you I dislike males?" she asked bluntly.
'Dislike?' he echoed mentally. 'You dare use that soft word, you blood sucking vampiric woman… From what I've heard and can see, and 'feel' while hanging upside down, you don't just dislike them. You 'despise' them.'
His eyes drifted to the corner of the room, to the grotesque head of the corrupted ghoul abomination who was thrown like trash, mouth agape, tongue lolled out, eyes still wide with frozen terror.
'Just look at this poor bastard. What have you done to such a pitiful creature…'
"..."
He looked at the creature's ugly visage for a few seconds and felt his lip twitch.
'...Well, fuck that. This bastard deserved it anyway.'
Still, not daring to say any of it out loud, he nodded his head quickly like a chicken who'd just spotted the butcher sharpening his knife.
She watched, amused.
"Then you can also guess why you're still alive," she said, voice like honey laced with poison.
"…Cause I saved your daughters," he replied hesitantly.
But then he saw her expression shift.
Her smile stretched, just a little too wide to be comforting. A low chuckle slipped past her lips, dark and honeyed, the kind that danced dangerously close to the edge of sadistic amusement.
"Good to know you finally stopped with the annoying bullshit," she said, voice light, but her crimson eyes narrowing like razors. "If not, I'd have crushed your skull like an overripe plum."
———
A/N : Hello fellas! Hope everything's good on your end.
So, it's been about half a month since I dropped the first chapter of my fanfic on both WebNovel and ScribbleHub. Originally, I had big plans, writing and posting almost a chapter a day.
But then life happened. this year I graduated college, started worrying about my future career, and yeah... things got delayed.
Still, I'm carving out time to write this story because I've realized I genuinely enjoy both reading and writing (a recent self-discovery, btw).
Even though this is technically a fanfic, in my eyes it's kind of like an original novel.
Sure, I'm borrowing species, characters, and power systems from other works, but I'm remixing them into something that fits my own twisted little vision.
Anyway, if you're reading this, I'd really appreciate it if you could drop a comment or review. Anything to let me know I haven't completely messed things up. Plus, your feedback is the fuel that keeps me writing, especially when life's being a whole circus.
Stay chaotic.