Kojin Lenka—the hybrid with sun-kissed skin and silver-white hair—stared at her right palm, opening and closing her hand like a fool. It was the hand that Saliya had held only a short while ago.

  As dawn approached, the three of them had moved deeper into the abandoned mine after a quick cleanup. Thanks to their superior physiology, the thin oxygen and harsh environment of the deep tunnels had no effect on them. They had agreed that Ana and Lenka would rest first, while Saliya took the opening watch.

  But Lenka found it impossible to sleep.

  Before they had shifted positions, Saliya had taken her hand. Lenka had been startled by the gesture, half-expecting Saliya to settle the score for the radio she had shattered earlier. Instead, Saliya had simply gripped her hand tight and nodded with a smile—a smile that carried the fragile weight of someone on the verge of tears.

  Lenka had never experienced gratitude before. Nor had she ever known the security of having a partner stand guard so she could sleep in peace.

  She shifted her gaze from her own hand to Saliya, who sat at the entrance. The True Blood was silent, her eyes focused on the darkness outside, a focused sentinel against any intruders. Noticing Lenka’s stare, Saliya turned her head.

  Her bangs fell forward, masking her right eye. Beneath the bck strands y a faint, lingering scar. Saliya had the power to heal the wound completely, but when Ana had asked why she hadn't, Saliya had shyly replied that she wanted to keep it as a "memento." However, out of consideration for Lenka’s feelings, she had altered her hairstyle to hide it.

  "Can't sleep?" Saliya’s voice, clear as a silver bell, asked softly.

  "I can't," Lenka admitted, sitting up and crossing her legs. "Can I ask you something?"

  Saliya nodded.

  "Before we came in... Ana gave you her blood." Lenka scratched her cheek, trying to find a way to phrase the question without being offensive. "Was the blood she brought back from the outside not enough?"

  Saliya looked away, a faint flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "It wasn't that. It’s... I’m still practicing my mastery over Blood Memory."

  "Blood Memory?" Another new term. Lenka’s brow furrowed.

  Saliya pced a hand over her heart, taking a few steadying breaths before turning back to face Lenka with a look of resolve.

  "I have been... like this for ten years. But I have only been learning the lore of our kind from Ana for less than a month."

  "How is that possible?" Lenka was bewildered.

  "I was taken by the Hunters immediately after I was turned. After years of experiments and sampling, they trained me to be a weapon—a tool specifically designed to hunt those of simir bloodlines to yours." Saliya gave a bitter smile. "I was the 'Silver-haired Halberd-user' you spoke of."

  Lenka sensed Saliya’s sensitivity to the topic and decided to steer back to the previous point. "...That thing you mentioned. Blood Memory."

  Saliya looked up at her.

  "Do I... not have that?" Lenka asked carefully, as if afraid the answer would tear another piece out of her.

  Saliya watched her for a moment before nodding. "Almost none."

  Lenka’s throat moved. "Is it... because I’m not smart enough?"

  "No," Saliya denied quickly. She thought of the memories Ana had shared with her, choosing a gentle yet precise expnation. "Because that ability requires a complete, stable 'Self'." She tapped her temple. "Blood Memory isn't actually the memory itself. It is the footprint left behind by the 'I'."

  Lenka’s eyes widened slightly.

  "According to Ana, the True Blood lineage and culture are naturally adept at preserving this. But your blood..." Saliya paused, her tone hesitating. "It is chaotic."

  Lenka gave a mirthless ugh. "Sounds like me."

  "The werewolf instinct is powerful," Saliya continued, "and the vampire blood is constantly interfering. Both sides are pulling at you. As a result, your own 'Self' is pressed very thin. You can feel emotions, impulses, and killing intent... but you rarely see the complete memories of others."

  Lenka was stunned. Suddenly, she remembered the donors she had fed on in the b. She had almost never seen clear images. There were only fractured sounds, scents, and terror.

  "...No wonder," Lenka whispered. "I always thought I was just dull."

  Saliya shook her head. "Not dull. Your bloodline is protecting you."

  "Protecting me?"

  "If you could truly see those memories clearly," Saliya said softly, "with everything you’ve been through, you might not have survived it." She paused, adding a sentence that was almost a sigh. "I have met many hybrids, even Gold-eyes. But I have never met one as rational as you."

  Those words carried more weight than any evaluation. Lenka was silent for a long time. Finally, she whispered, "...And what about you? Seeing so many of other people's lives... don't you get lost?"

  Saliya lowered her eyes to her palm. "We do. So we learn to remember only what is necessary. The rest... we let go. Your ck of this ability isn't a defect, Lenka. In a way, it’s the reason you’ve held on until today."

  Lenka stared at her, dazed. It took a while before she could manage a tiny voice. "...So, it’s not that I have nothing."

  She spoke the words as if to herself, then lowered her head. Saliya didn't answer immediately. After a moment, she spoke softly.

  "Lenka."

  "Yeah?"

  "If you don't mind..." Saliya hesitated, choosing her words to avoid misunderstanding. "Would you like to try? Once?"

  Lenka looked up. "Try what?"

  Saliya lifted her own wrist. Her movement was slow and restrained. "Just a little. Not for healing, not for feeding. Just... to touch. It won't leave a mark."

  Lenka froze. She knew exactly what that meant. But for her, that image only existed in the boratory—cold lights, struggling people, the scent of blood, the screaming. And now, Saliya was reaching out her hand of her own accord. No orders, no chains.

  "If you don't want to, it’s okay," Saliya added quickly.

  Lenka shook her head. "It’s not that I don't want to. I’m just... a little afraid."

  "I know," Saliya nodded. "I’ll be watching you."

  Lenka nodded slowly. "Just a little."

  Saliya used a fingernail to make a tiny incision on her wrist. The blood began to seep out almost instantly. The scent was faint, cking the acrid chemical smell of the boratory memories. Lenka held her breath and leaned in. She took a careful sip.

  In the next heartbeat, she went rigid. It wasn't pain. It was a weightless emotion sliding down her throat and into her chest. No screaming. No terror. It was a profoundly quiet emotion.

  In the dark, there was a faint light. Not a picture, but a feeling. She felt a pair of hands carefully and tenderly wrapping a gift. She felt a long period of solitude. She felt suppression, training, and the cold experimental table. And then—beneath all that weight that should have crushed a person—there was a tiny, microscopic thing. Like someone keeping a small mp lit in the middle of a vast night.

  Lenka pulled away instinctively, covering her mouth with her hand. Her breathing was erratic.

  "What is it?" Saliya asked immediately.

  Lenka kept her head down. "Your blood... it’s different."

  "Different how?"

  "It’s not noisy. It feels... gentle." Lenka blinked, surprised by her own description. Saliya’s eyes widened slightly. Lenka took a breath, her voice raspy. "Not like the ones before. It feels so... warm."

  Saliya didn't smile. She simply watched her with eyes that were too soft for a battlefield. "Then that means... you really did feel it. Can we... swap?"

  Lenka was stunned. "Are you sure?"

  "I can stop whenever I want," Saliya said. Lenka thought for a moment and nodded. She bit her own fingertip. The taste of her blood was complex—wild, like iron and the forest.

  Saliya took a tiny taste. Her brow furrowed almost immediately. Running, chains, roaring. Fractured emotions flooded in. Saliya quickly suppressed the power, pcing a "lid" on the chaos before pulling back.

  "It’s... very messy," she whispered.

  Lenka watched her nervously. "Are you okay?"

  "I’m fine," Saliya shook her head. "You have a strong grip on yourself. In that situation, very few people could have held on."

  They were silent for a time. Finally, Lenka whispered, "...So someone finally 'saw' me."

  Saliya offered a small smile and sat down beside her. "I asked Ana once why animals don't have Blood Memories. She said it’s because you have to be able to recognize yourself in a mirror for blood to leave a trace. The fact that you are asking these questions proves that your 'Self' is still there."

  Lenka froze. In that moment, her eyes finally turned red. Not from pain, but from the weight of being acknowledged. She fought back the tears.

  "...So, even this counts?"

  Saliya nodded gently. "It counts."

  The mine was silent—not the silence of a void, but a quiet filled with the sound of wind moving through the rock fissures and the microscopic echoes of distant water droplets.

  Lenka was about to lie back down when a subtle change occurred at the entrance. It wasn't a footstep. It wasn't a breath. It was the atmosphere.

  The bats roosting near the mouth of the cave suddenly went still. Saliya’s body moved faster than her mind. She shifted her posture, her right hand rising naturally with her palm facing back, signaling the others to remain silent.

  Lenka didn't even realize what was wrong until she saw Ana sit up straight, her gaze sharp as a bde.

  "What is it?" Lenka whispered.

  Saliya didn't answer immediately. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, listening to something that didn't belong to the physical space. "Outsiders. They’ve entered the outer tunnels."

  Lenka’s eyes widened. "How do you know?"

  Saliya hesitated before answering quietly. "I asked them to watch the entrance for me."

  "Them?"

  Saliya pointed to the shadows above the entrance, where a row of tiny, upside-down bck figures hung motionless. "The bats."

  Lenka: "...?"

  Even Ana was visibly stunned. "When did you...?"

  "I noticed them resting there during my watch," Saliya said, looking a bit sheepish. "I used the method you taught me, Ana. The concept of respecting the donor. They live here... so I just asked if they could warn me if strangers approached."

  The mine fell silent for several seconds. Ana watched her sister, a rare look of pure surprise on her face. It wasn't just because of the ability, but the understanding behind it.

  "You learn... faster than I thought," Ana whispered with genuine approval. Saliya’s ears turned slightly red.

  But a second ter, Ana’s expression returned to its cold, tactical baseline. "The sun isn't down yet. We can't stay here."

  Saliya nodded. "The outer tunnels lead to the main exit. If we get pinned..."

  The three exchanged a quick look. They had scouted a secondary route, but that path required a brief sprint across open ground. Lenka’s fingers tightened. She looked toward the faint, white gre of the entrance.

  "I’ll go out the front," Lenka whispered. "I’m the fastest and the toughest. I’ll lead them away, and you two can—"

  Before she could finish, Ana seized her wrist. The grip wasn't heavy, but it was unyielding.

  "No. Sister saved you; you aren't going to waste it."

  "But—"

  "I am more proficient in power control," Ana interrupted, her voice leaveing no room for argument. "The burden of protecting one more person is smaller for me." She pulled Lenka behind her with a natural, authoritative movement.

  Lenka opened her mouth, but no words came out. She had never been protected so matter-of-factly before. Saliya nodded to Ana and stepped to the front.

  "Remember what I told you, Sister," Ana said. "Let the shadows follow your heart."

  Shadow-wings gathered and unfurled from Saliya’s shoulders once more, demonic and rhythmic. But this time, Lenka felt no fear or intimidation from them.

  "Time is short," Saliya said, looking back at them. Her eyes were quiet but incredibly clear. "Stay close."

  As they burst from the mine, the sun broke through the cloud cover. The moment the first beam of light fell, Saliya’s wings fred. Ana pced a hand behind her back, and the shadows around her waist coalesced into a form simir to Saliya’s wings but distinct—low-rooted, covering her skirt like a soft, heavy dark barrier. As she extended them, the curved tips merged with her hem, the shadows bending and scattering the sunlight. It was a soft, dark curtain that enfolded the three of them.

  Lenka suddenly felt that the wings didn't look like demons. They looked like... shields.

  Saliya gnced back, realizing she wasn't alone. Ana’s wings weren't born of trauma and pain like hers; they cked the tremors and unease. They were a steady, reliable armor. The two yers of shadow overpped, forming a sanctuary for the three of them.

  But it was still broad daylight. Heat seeped through the cracks. The microscopic sound of skin being singed hissed in the air.

  Lenka let out a muffled grunt. In the next heartbeat, Ana pulled her into a tight embrace, her arms acting as a final barrier between Lenka and the light.

  In front of them, Saliya grit her teeth, her eyes turning a faint red. her shadows trembled as they stretched, but she did not let go. Step by step, she led them away from the blinding white earth until they tumbled into the next pre-scouted cave.

  The three stopped simultaneously, gasping for breath in the silence. After a while, Lenka whispered, "...Thank you."

  Ana simply patted her back. Saliya leaned against the wall and sat down slowly. She looked out at the distant white gre, her fingers unconsciously pressing against her heart.

  In that moment, she realized with total crity: if the day ever came where she had to stand in the light to shield Lenka from something even more terrible... she would not hesitate.

  After a short rest, they utilized a moment when the clouds blocked the sun to slip like shadows into the edge of the forest to relocate again—Saliya worried that if the pursuers were professionals, they would search for other nearby hideouts. They eventually reached an abandoned gas station near the forest edge.