After sobbing uncontrollably just moments ago, Zamora had finally calmed down on her bed. She stared at the sky, now bathed in the golden light of the setting sun streaming through her open bedroom window.
Fear still gripped her heart. She dreaded the thought of Dante appearing again tonight. It was already tormenting enough to be chased in her dreams—now the man had crossed over into her reality.
Knock! Knock!
"Zamora! Zamora!" a girl's voice shouted, impatient and sharp—perhaps more angry than anything else. Zamora swung her legs off the bed and staggered toward the door.
Standing outside was a young girl, likely about Zamora's age. Her hands were on her hips, her eyes wide and piercing as she glared at the room's owner.
"Where's the dye I asked for?" the girl demanded, her hand stretched out expectantly.
"Oh no! I completely forgot, Maggie."
"Hey! You know I need it for tomorrow morning! What's wrong with you?!" Maggie snapped, her shrill voice making Zamora wince in pain.
"Do you want me to get punished tomorrow?!" Maggie shouted, her voice rising with each word.
"No, Mag. I'll go get it right now," Zamora replied quickly, trying to defuse her cousin's temper. She returned to her room, grabbed her jacket, and threw it on.
Maggie scoffed. "Make sure it's exactly the kind I asked for! Don't mess this up," she warned, spinning on her heels and walking away.
"Alright, Mag," Zamora answered obediently.
As Zamora stepped out of her room, Aunt Merry passed by and handed her a list. "Get some kitchen spices too. Here's the list," she said without slowing down.
In that house, "no" wasn't an option. Refusing even once meant forfeiting her dinner entirely.
After making sure the neighborhood was still bustling with people, Zamora finally stepped outside. Truthfully, she was still shaken from Dante's sudden appearance in her room.
"You're going out at this hour?" a middle-aged woman called out to her.
Zamora turned toward the voice. "Good evening, Mrs. Lucy," she said politely.
The woman smiled and approached her at the front gate. "Where are you going? It's getting late."
"I need to run to the minimarket across the street. My aunt and cousin asked me to pick up a few things," Zamora answered gently.
"Can't it wait until tomorrow? You've heard the news—girls have been disappearing lately without a trace."
"Auntie will get angry if I delay their orders," Zamora replied with a soft smile. "But thank you for worrying about me."
"Your aunt can be so demanding. Alright, just be careful, okay? It's still busy out, at least."
Zamora nodded and picked up her pace toward the minimarket. The evening air was neither cold nor warm. She could feel the gentle breeze brushing against her skin and flowing through her unbound hair.
The minimarket was already in view when something made her stop. Someone was standing in her path, back turned toward her.
A tall man wearing a cloak that draped over his broad shoulders. A strangely sweet aroma wafted from him.
"E-excuse me, you're blocking my way," Zamora said hesitantly.
Cold sweat trickled down her forehead like droplets of rain. Her instincts screamed that something was wrong. She immediately turned around.
"I-I'm sorry! I'll find another way," she said quickly and started to walk away.
"No one escapes from me," growled the man behind her.
Zamora instinctively turned back—and in an instant, the entire world around her morphed into a wild forest. Frozen in place, she could only collapse to the ground.
The man began walking toward her slowly as Zamora sobbed uncontrollably. The speed of the transition had left her body paralyzed. All she could do was watch this being approach—he might look human, but she knew deep down he was a demon.
Panicking, Zamora got up and ran as fast as she could through the forest, hoping she could somehow escape Dante—even if she knew it was a hopeless wish.
Her small strides made it difficult to get far. Dry leaves crunched beneath her feet as she fled through the forest floor.
She'd barely gained any distance when a black shadow moved faster than any human could and quickly caught up with her. Dante appeared in front of her in a flash, making Zamora freeze.
Her face drained of color, breath catching in her throat. It was as if her soul was ready to leave her body. Dante stood tall before her, his glowing red eyes locked on hers.
He parted his lips and growled, revealing sharp fangs. With one swift motion, he pushed Zamora back until her spine hit a thick tree trunk, drawing a pained gasp from her.
"Argh!"
She struggled, trying to break free from Dante's grip. His eyes bore into hers—her once-beautiful face now pale like a corpse.
His face neared hers, and she could barely breathe. Cold sweat coated her body. Then, Dante leaned in closer and sniffed softly before moving to her neck.
Zamora shuddered when his cold breath hit her skin. She tightly shut her eyes as his fingers grazed the strange mark on her neck. The moment he touched it, a searing heat coursed through her.
"S-stop it! Argh!"
Her scream echoed through the trees. The pain was unbearable—like fire laced with icy wind tearing through her. Her breathing became ragged as she struggled to stay conscious.
"Please! Stop! I'm begging you!"
But Dante didn't care—until her vision finally went dark. Her body slumped against his, unconscious. He caught her, smiling as he held her limp form.
---
Dante walked confidently through the grand halls of the Incubus castle. Every handsome guard bowed respectfully as the young master passed. But his steps came to a halt when a girl appeared in his path.
"I know you brought that girl here. Where is she now?" asked the Succubus, her tone sharp, unconcerned with his silence.
"Is she pregnant already?" she asked again, unbothered by his cold demeanor.
"What right do you have to ask me that?" Dante snapped.
"I'm just curious. And for your information, I don't like that you brought her into this castle," she replied arrogantly.
Dante's glare sharpened. "Do you think this castle belongs to you, Miss?" he sneered. "I told you—don't ever fall for me."
"Why her, Dante? Why bring another girl? Why not me? Why can't I be the one to bear your children?" she growled, her eyes beginning to glow red.
"Stop asking, Alice! You don't always get what you want!" he barked.
"But why won't you even give me a chance?" her voice softened.
"We're from the same race. You should accept that some things just aren't meant to be."
Alice stood silent, lost for words. Her jealousy burned so fiercely that it clouded her judgment. All she ever wanted was him. But Dante had rejected her completely.
"I don't care, Dante. I want you. I don't want anyone else!" she shouted.
Dante clenched his jaw. "Leave, Alice. I'm not going to argue with you."
"Just give me a chance. I can be the perfect girl for you," she pleaded, dropping to her knees.
"I have to go. No one should see us together like this," he muttered before walking away.
"I won't let another girl be the one to break your walls, Dante," Alice whispered, watching his figure disappear.
---
Zamora slowly opened her eyes, blinking to clear the haze. She gasped, realizing she was lying in a large bed draped in warm silk.
She looked around at the castle walls—clean white with golden accents. The room was far too big for someone like her. It could fit at least twenty people.
Throwing off the blanket, she froze when she saw what she was wearing—revealing clothing made of the thinnest material she'd ever seen.
"Whose clothes are these?" she murmured, staring at herself in disbelief.
Rushing to the mirror in the corner, she stared at her reflection—her shoulders and legs exposed, the outfit far more revealing than anything she'd ever worn.
Before she could process the shock, she noticed another figure in the mirror's reflection. She turned around quickly, arms crossing her chest.
Dante stood at the doorway, expression unreadable, walking toward her. His footsteps echoed through the room. Zamora instinctively stepped back, her heart racing wildly.
His piercing blue eyes locked onto hers, and she couldn't look away. They were stunning—hypnotic. For a moment, she forgot he was a demon.
Without warning, Dante gently touched the mark on her neck again. The pain returned instantly.
"Ah! Stop! Please, that hurts!" she cried.
"Why should I stop?" he asked coldly.
"Because it hurts… so much," she whimpered.
"Everything you do has consequences. This… is what you get for trying to run from me."
Zamora's face turned pale. Dante continued touching the mark, his expression still unreadable.
"I'm sorry! I'll do whatever you say," she pleaded.
"Can you promise that?" he asked.
Reluctantly, Zamora nodded. Dante smiled faintly and finally stopped. The pain vanished instantly.
Her knees gave out beneath her, her strength gone.
"Promise you won't run again. If you do, I swear your life will never be peaceful."
"O-okay. I won't," she whispered.
"Good. You should get ready."
"R-ready? For what?" she asked, confused.
"For your next task. You'll be staying here until it's done," he whispered close to her ear with a grin.
Zamora's heart raced again as she caught a glimpse of his hidden fangs.
"I'll return later. You should get some sleep," Dante said, turning away and walking to the door.
"Wait… Is it already night?" she asked softly, trying to grasp his words.
As the truth sank in, she remembered her family. They must be waiting for her to return with their requests.
For the first time ever, Zamora wished she could go home and be scolded by Aunt Merry—anything would be better than being trapped in this strange, unknown place.