"You don’t have to look at me like that." Shinya held out his empty glass to Kyle, motioning for a refill. "I’m not drunk. And I’m not joking."

  Kyle abruptly shoved the glass aside, staring at him in disbelief. It was a long moment before he finally spoke.

  "You’re insane. Truly insane."

  Shinya just smiled indifferently and reached for the bottle himself.

  "Think whatever you want."

  Kyle snatched the bottle from his hand, forcing Shinya to meet his gaze.

  "You mean to tell me—you’d die for her?"

  "If that’s what it takes," Shinya replied.

  In those purple eyes lay a darkness like the abyss, void of any light—enough to send a chill down anyone’s spine.

  What kind of madness—what kind of obsession—did it take to say something like that?

  Kyle wished, more than anything, that Shinya was joking. But having grown up with him, he knew better.

  Shinya never joked about his own life.

  His choices were never made in jest.

  And that was exactly why Kyle’s heart ached.

  Shinya, who once could have lived for over three hundred years, now had barely a hundred left. It might still be longer than any human’s—but that doesn’t mean it’s the ending Shinya deserved.

  If a person meant to live to eighty suddenly learned they’d die at forty, what kind of despair would they feel?

  Forty—still in the prime of life.

  How could Shinya face his shortened lifespan so calmly?

  Just for a girl?

  Shinya blinked as Kyle snatched the bottle from his hand but didn’t say a word. Without hesitation, he took it right back.

  “A hundred years is more than enough,” Shinya said as he poured himself another drink. “Plenty of time to get things done.”

  Before he could fill the glass, Kyle grabbed it from him and downed it in one go.

  Shinya stared, a bit surprised. Then he frowned. “Why my glass? Yours is right there.”

  Kyle’s cheeks were flushed. He slammed the glass down, the sharp clink echoing across the table. He wiped his mouth roughly, as if the alcohol had finally washed away the splinter lodged in his throat.

  “Promise me one thing, Shinya.”

  “Hm?”

  “I know I can’t stop you from doing reckless things,” Kyle said, shoving the bottle into Shinya’s hands. For the first time in his life, Kyle spoke to him not as a friend, but as a man giving an order. “But promise me this—don’t you dare die before I do.”

  “I promise,” Shinya said with a rare, gentle smile. Then he tilted back the bottle and downed the rest of it in one go.

  The sweet, crisp liquid with its faint bitterness washed over his tongue—yet stirred a dull ache in his chest.

  He said nothing aloud, but in his heart, he whispered:

  I promise you, Kyle… but I can’t guarantee it.

  Shinya set the empty bottle down in front of Kyle.

  “There’s something I want you to promise me too.”

  “What is it?”

  “Don’t let Nicole know she’s become a halfblood.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t want my sacrifice to become her burden. I don’t want her obeying me out of gratitude.”

  Once again, Kyle looked at him like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. But this time, that disbelief dissolved into a helpless smile.

  “You want her to fall for you. For real.”

  “When we were kids, I never got the chance.”

  Shinya leaned back in his chair, stretching out his limbs before tilting his head up, gazing at the ceiling.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Above him, the warm yellow glow of the crystal lamp spilled across his face, and his deep violet eyes narrowed slightly in the light.

  The man-made lights above stung Shinya’s eyes, but he didn’t look away.

  “This time, I’m not letting go. Never again.”

  Kyle glanced at him, worry in his eyes. “Shinya, I just want to sa—”

  “Stop fussing,” Shinya cut him off, glancing back with a smirk. “Crack open another one! I’m not done drinking.”

  He gave Kyle a shove, urging him to stand. “Not this one—it’s weak as water. I want the expensive stuff.”

  Kyle shot him a glare. “Expensive? You’ve got some nerve.”

  When Kyle didn’t budge, Shinya stood up with a sigh. “Tch, fine. I’ll get it myself. Don’t think I’ve forgotten where the wine cellar is.”

  Kyle, thoroughly annoyed, stood up and grabbed the back of Shinya’s collar.

  “Sit. Down.”

  In the midst of their bickering, a soft, delicate voice interrupted them.

  “…Daddy?”

  Shinya turned, finally noticing the tiny figure standing in the doorway of the small hall.

  It was a little girl, maybe five years old. Her hair was tied into two small braids. In one hand she clutched a well-loved stuffed doll; with the other, she rubbed her sleepy, wide eyes.

  “Sweetheart? What are you doing here? Weren’t you staying at Grandma’s this week?”

  Kyle immediately crossed the room and gently ruffled her hair.

  “Did Mom bring you over?”

  “Mhm,” the girl nodded. “They said monsters attacked the inn. Are you okay, Daddy?”

  “I’m fine, sweetheart. You should be in bed.”

  “I’m hungry.”

  Kyle crouched down to her level. “Want me to get you some milk?”

  Milk didn’t seem to spark much interest. Instead, the girl’s eyes wandered to Shinya. She walked straight over and stared up at him with wide-eyed curiosity, fixating on the tall stranger with black hair and violet eyes.

  Shinya looked down at her, then turned to Kyle with disbelief written all over his face.

  “…You have a daughter??”

  He couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. Fifteen years might have flown by for him—but for humans, it was long enough for life to change completely.

  Kyle stood up straight, crossed his arms proudly, and puffed out his chest.

  “Well? Isn’t Marian adorable?”

  Shinya leaned down again to get a better look at the girl, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

  “Yeah, she’s cute. Lucky for her, she doesn’t look like you.”

  Kyle’s face twitched. He clenched a fist in mock outrage.

  “You damn punk. Still as sharp-tongued as ever. No more drinks for you tonight.”

  Shinya just shrugged, unfazed.

  “Wasn’t that good anyway.”

  He returned to his seat at the table, completely unbothered.

  Little Marian continued to stare at Shinya.

  It was the first time in her short life she’d ever seen someone with purple eyes. She studied him with open curiosity, gazing and glancing without the slightest awareness of how rude she was being.

  At first, Shinya met her gaze. But after a while, being under her intense scrutiny started to make his skin crawl. In the end, he simply ignored her.

  Still, faced with those innocent, wide eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to get annoyed—so he let her look all she wanted.

  “Marian, come on. I’ll get you a glass of milk from the kitchen,” Kyle called to his daughter.

  But Marian didn’t budge.

  “I don’t want milk, Daddy,” she said, then pointed to the tall storage shelf behind Shinya. Her voice turned sweet and gentle. “Mister, could you get me an apple from up there?”

  Shinya didn’t refuse. He stood up and reached for one of the apples perched on the top shelf—but he didn’t hand it over right away.

  What he didn’t realize was that, in the moment he turned, the light had caught his violet eyes just so, sending a sharp glint flashing across them. It was a reflection no ordinary human could produce—and to the little girl, it was terrifying.

  From Marian’s perspective, for just one brief second, he looked exactly like the big, bad wolf from every bedtime story.

  Shinya, of course, had no idea what had just unsettled the girl. He bent down with a serious expression and corrected her sternly.

  “Mister? What’s that? You should be calling me ‘Uncle.’ Uncle Shinya. Got that? Get the hierarchy straight. I’m older than your dad.”

  Lecture complete, he finally handed the apple to her.

  Marian took it with trembling hands, the polite little “thank you” that had reached the tip of her tongue utterly erased by fear.

  A second later, she burst into tears.

  Clutching the apple and her stuffed doll tightly, she shuffled toward Kyle step by step, her whole face turning bright red as fat tears streamed down her cheeks. It was clear she was seeking shelter from the terrifying "uncle."

  Shinya froze in place, stunned. He had absolutely no idea what he’d done to make her burst into tears like that.

  Kyle scooped his daughter into his arms and rocked her gently, coaxing and soothing until she finally began to calm down.

  But when he turned his face toward Shinya, the kind, doting father was instantly replaced by a raging madman.

  “You made my daughter cry. How are you gonna make this right?”

  Faced with Kyle’s threat, Shinya protested his innocence. “I swear to the gods, I didn’t scare her.”

  “Could you maybe try sounding less like a grumpy forest troll when you talk?”

  “What do you mean ‘grumpy’? I didn’t yell at her. I didn’t even scold her.”

  Kyle realized it was pointless trying to reason with this naturally intimidating, large, wild animal of a man. He shot Shinya an exasperated look and issued a solemn warning.

  “From now on, you're not allowed to talk to my daughter. No eye contact. And stay at least five meters away from her at all times.”

  “Seriously?” Shinya asked, baffled. “It’s not like I’m gonna eat her or something.”

  Kyle, still cradling the sniffling Marian in one arm, jabbed a finger at Shinya’s nose with the other. “Back up. Keep backing up. Not far enough—more.”

  Only when Shinya was backed all the way into the corner with no room left to retreat did Kyle finally relent.

  “Happy now?” Shinya leaned against the wall, thoroughly exasperated.

  “Hmph. I don’t want to see your stupid face again until sunrise.” With that, Kyle marched off, daughter in arms like a conquering hero.

  Shinya stood alone in the small dining hall as Kyle’s voice faded down the corridor.

  "Wine cellar, third cabinet from the right, fourth shelf—there's a bottle of Midsummer Night's Dream I've been saving. Get it yourself if you want it, I don’t have time to babysit a dumbass like you. I'm a dad now. Who still stays up drinking in the middle of the night…”

  As the last words echoed away, Shinya's expression gradually softened. But that softness didn’t last—it was soon edged out by something quieter, heavier, a sadness so subtle it barely showed on his face.

  “…I don’t want to drink,” he murmured, “if you’re not drinking with me.”