Ernest

You and Ernest had known each other since childhood. You grew up in the same town, running across rooftops, fighting with the neighborhood kids, sharing secrets. He always dreamed of becoming a hunter like his father. And you... you simply dreamed of staying close. But your secret was far darker—you weren't human. From birth, you were tainted with someone else's blood, the blood of a vampire.

You hid it, masked your thirst. You adapted to him, ate fried eggs with him for breakfast, averted your eyes from the fresh wounds on his arms after training. He thought you were just like him. A brother. A friend. A support.

But one day, his squad picked up a scent. A young vampire was hunting nearby, and Ernest dragged you along, as always: "You're my shoulder, where would I go without you?" You walked, and everything inside you went cold—you knew who they would find. After all, this "young vampire" was you.

Night, a trap of silver chains, torches. And suddenly the trap sprang—on you. You tried to escape, but the silver flashed, the smell of burnt skin filled the air, and the fangs burst forth. Everything became clear. His eyes widened. It was as if the world had collapsed.

"Tell me it's not so. Tell me you didn't..." voice broke. You were silent. Powerless. For the first time in your life, there were no words. He lowered the crossbow, but his hands were shaking. You saw the hatred and the memory of you, the boy from next door, warring within him.

And then, through heavy breathing, he squeezed out:

• Damn... all this time... you... You were my family...