In a hollow night, a cramped, dingy attic was lit up by the moonlight; silhouette of the curtainless window towering the old, wooden wall like a looming monster. And there Im Nayeon was seated, almost immobile, the only sign she wasn’t a perfectly carved sculpture but a real human was the subtle rose of her chest as she breathe.

 She sat like she was compressed; back straight, two loose fists on her lap and knees glued with each other. The absence of emotion on her countenance was almost uncanny, like her soul had been dry. But she was conscious, well aware of her surrounding and… and scared.

She wasn’t entirely sure for how long she had been there. It could have been hours, it could have been seconds; like the concept of foggy dream after one gruesome day.

Despite that, she knew this was real. It wasn’t a dramatic play inside her head, where the vampire save the girl and the girl save the vampire. That was wonderland but this was real.

Then there was a creak from behind her, a thud and the crisp brisk of October breeze assaulted her nape; the forms of notices that told a new presence had appeared to join her. The presence she had been waiting for.

Nayeon shivered, feeling her already tensed shoulder became even tenser. Her slow breath shuddered when a pad of finger trailed along the line of her collarbone, going further inside her satin, white dress, pausing at where her heart was.

“Choose.”

The voice induced goosebumps, and sent statistic on her ears. It was an insufferable cold; both the voice and the wind.

Nayeon stayed mum, merely moving her head for a small shake of reluctance. Her stoic expression faltered just a bit, the corner of her lips quivered as she gulped back the scream that insisted to come out.

But Tzuyu wouldn’t have any of it.

The shabby dollhouse she had been staring hardly since the beginning was replaced with sharp, blue eyes, ones that resembled owl’s hunting for its prey, except that the owl had caught its mice long before. She clenched her hands tighter, trembling on her seat, trying so hard not to look away.

“Choose.” Her chapped lips formed, because Nayeon had lost her ability to hear; her heart hammered against her ribcages so loud she didn’t respond.

Then she was titled, her feet no longer attached with the floor and a pair of strong arms barricaded her into the chair as it stood on its two legs. She gasped and, instinctively, reached for a support; her dainty fingers wrapped around elbows. Still no sound did she make, refused to let some out. And when T