The Brotherhood Of The Damned.

The night unfolded like a dream I wasn't sure I wanted to be part of. Plates of delicacies I couldn't name were placed before me, each one a masterpiece of culinary art. The kind of food I'd only ever seen on TV or in glossy magazines. Roasted duck glazed with honey and orange, a creamy soup dotted with gold flakes, and a dessert tower of rich chocolate and spun sugar that looked more like a sculpture than something edible.

I glanced at Sia, who was picking delicately at her plate, clearly more accustomed to such extravagance. Me? I was out of my depth. The flavors exploded on my tongue, each bite reminding me how far removed I was from the life I'd known.

Conrad watched me closely, a faint smile tugging at his lips as I tried to savor each bite without looking too awestruck. He didn't eat, of course. His plate remained pristine, untouched, a mere decoration at this feast.

"You seem to enjoy the food," he said smoothly, his voice pulling me from my thoughts.

"It's... incredible," I admitted, wiping my mouth with the linen napkin. "I've never tasted anything like it."

His smile widened, but there was something calculating in his expression. "I imagine not. These chefs are among the best in the city, flown in from across the globe. Such craftsmanship is wasted on most, but you... you seem to appreciate it."

"I appreciate a lot of things I can't afford," I said dryly, earning a soft chuckle from Sia.

"Humility," Conrad said, lifting his glass in a mock toast. "A rare trait in our kind."

His words hung in the air, and I caught the shift in his tone, subtle but deliberate. I took a sip of my water, watching him out of the corner of my eye.

Conrad leaned back in his chair, cradling his glass of dark liquid. At first glance, it might have been red wine, but the metallic tang in the air told me otherwise. Blood. The glass was tall and slender, its contents swirling lazily as he tilted it in his hand, the motion hypnotic.

"You're not eating," I pointed out, my voice even.

He raised an eyebrow, his smile never wavering. "We all have our sustenance, Kyon. Mine doesn't involve... this." He gestured toward the table, his tone almost amused.

I set down my fork, suddenly aware of how strange this must look to him—a half-vampire enjoying food like any human.

"You find it curious," I said, meeting his gaze.

"Curious, yes. Fascinating, even," Conrad replied, his eyes gleaming with interest. "You're the first of your kind I've encountered, you know. A half-breed who eats like a mortal yet wields the power of Flux. Tell me, is this a quirk of your human side, or perhaps something more... unique?"

His question was innocent enough on the surface, but I knew better. Everything he said was a probe, an attempt to peel back the layers of my identity.

"I couldn't say," I replied, shrugging. "I've never had the chance to compare myself to others like me."

"Hmm," Conrad mused, taking a slow sip from his glass. The motion was deliberate, almost theatrical. "It's remarkable. You're remarkable. A bridge between worlds, one foot in each. I imagine it must be... challenging at times."

There it was again—the subtle shift, the trap hidden in his words. I didn't take the bait.

"I manage," I said simply, returning to my plate.

Conrad chuckled softly, a sound that felt more like a predator's growl than genuine amusement. "I admire your composure, Kyon. Truly. But tell me... have you ever felt it?"

I froze, my fork hovering inches from my plate. "Felt what?"

"The Thirst," he said, the word hanging in the air like a challenge.

I placed my fork down slowly, meeting his gaze. "No."

"No?" He leaned forward slightly, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. "Not even once? Not even a flicker of hunger for something... more?"

His words sent a chill down my spine, but I kept my face neutral. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, but you do," Conrad said, his voice low and hypnotic. "That gnawing need, that insatiable hunger. It's in your blood, Kyon. It's who you are. You can deny it, suppress it, but it's always there. Always waiting."

My pulse quickened, but I refused to let him see my discomfort. "If you're trying to scare me, it's not working."

"Scare you?" Conrad's smile widened, revealing the faint glint of his fangs. "No, Kyon. I'm trying to enlighten you. The Thirst isn't a curse; it's a gift. A connection to something greater than yourself. When you give in, when you allow it to consume you, you'll understand true power."

I clenched my fists under the table, my mind racing. His words were dangerous, seductive. A part of me wondered if he was right, if I was denying something essential about myself. But another part of me, the part that clung to who I was, refused to believe him.

"That's not who I am," I said firmly.

"Not yet," Conrad said softly, his eyes boring into mine. "But the day will come when you'll have no choice. The Thirst will demand to be fed, and you'll realize that resisting it was never about nobility. It was about fear."

His words struck a nerve, and I looked away, my thoughts swirling. Was I afraid? Afraid of losing control, of becoming something monstrous? Or was I afraid of what I might enjoy if I gave in?

"You don't know me," I said, my voice quieter now but no less resolute.

"Don't I?" Conrad asked, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smirk. "I know more about you than you realize, Kyon. I know you've tasted power. I know you've felt the pull of the abyss. And I know that, deep down, a part of you is curious. Aren't you?"

I didn't answer, my silence speaking louder than words.

Conrad's smirk deepened, and he raised his glass in a mock toast. "To curiosity," he said, taking another slow sip.

The room felt suffocating, the weight of his words pressing down on me. I glanced at Sia, who watched the exchange with a wary expression, her presence a lifeline in the sea of Conrad's predatory charm.

This was his game, and I was the prey.