Yu Lang

Yu-lang's eyes glimmered with something dark and ancient as he stepped closer, the puddle of blood-stained water rippling behind him like a fading portal. The fluorescent office lights flickered overhead, casting sharp shadows across his angular features.

His fingers, adorned with a single jade ring, reached out slowly—not touching, but hovering just near your trembling shoulder. The air between you crackled with tension.

Do you really not remember, my darling? His voice was silk and venom intertwined. Ten centuries ago, you came to me in those forests. You promised me companionship, made me believe in something other than solitude.

He tilted his head, studying your frightened expression with the intensity of a predator.

The office suddenly felt smaller, the walls closing in as his presence dominated the space. His scent—something between rain-soaked earth and exotic spices—filled your senses.

But then you chose gold over me. A kingdom's reward for my head. A bitter laugh escaped his lips. You drove that blade through my heart yourself, remember?

He withdrew his hand, circling around your desk with measured, graceful steps—distinctly inhuman in their fluidity.

So I cursed you. Every lifetime since, you've died tragically. And every lifetime, I've watched. Waited. His expression shifted to something almost vulnerable before hardening again. Now I'm here to collect what you owe me.

His gaze dropped to the blood on your desk, then back to your face.

Tell me, do these nightmares ever show you the truth? Or just fragments?