After a long and treacherous journey past the lake and through pitch black tunnels, Nyais was greeted by a mess of staircases and old, unused cells. Rusted metal was peeling off the bars and Nyais was careful not to touch them, not wanting to damage himself more than he already had been. He came to the realisation that he was in the dungeons, though certainly not a part that he recognised. This was likely what was the dungeons were before Ritou redesigned the entire kingdom and rebuilt it from scratch.

He half expected to run into some blood-starved notorious serial killer chained up in one of the cells, forgotten by everyone and left to rot, but no such thing occurred. All criminals had been moved to the new dungeons, and these ones were truly deserted. Bloodstained walls reminded Nyais of what had gone on here long ago. He'd never worked in this section of the dungeons as Ritou had changed the whole layout of the kingdom before he was born, but he believed Rayne may be familiar with this area. Had Rayne brought him here? He was surprised that he hadn't awoken in Rayne's lab, though with Aytsa and Laion working so close to him it made sense — that was if Rayne had kept him alive in the first place.

Nyais started climbing stairs and such, using his hearing to pinpoint where the actual dungeons were (as he expected there'd be an entrance to this place through them). It would appear they were directly above him, however he didn't see a staircase that would help that much, so he went with luck and picked the closest one to him, hoping it'd lead him in the right direction.

Which it didn't. Dead end, so back to the staircases. He chose one on the opposite side of the room, which went up past the dungeons and then stopped abruptly — it looked like it may have once led to the King's Quarters. What would the king need a staircase to the dungeons for? Sounds like a assassination hazard more than anything. So he went back down the stairs and to a new staircase, and this time it was promising. It led up, right to where the dungeons were. Nyais felt around for a trapdoor or such.

A left turning. He hadn't expected that. Despite already figuring this was just as hopeless as the last staircases, he continued down the left turning in some strange hope that it may lead somewhere useful. He went up the stairs, walked straight for a little bit, up again, right now, and then down? Why down, he wondered?

He felt a strange board-type thing on the floor in front of him. It felt like a plastic ceiling board. He pushed on it a little with his arm before instead pushing on it with his foot. One wasn't enough, so he used two. Crack. The board gave way underneath him and Nyais, rather epically, landed in the middle of a dark, unfamiliar room, using his arms to steady himself. The lights flicked on.

A round of applause sounded from behind him. He spun around.

"Quite the landing! Though you did break my ceiling... Nyais, why did you take the left turn to the lake? There was an immediate staircase to your right which led right to the dungeons, you know," Rayne sighed, shaking his head. Nyais was frozen in shock. The room wasn't unfamiliar. The room was Rayne's office - the doctor's office, not his lab (thank god).

"You... saved me?" Nyais questioned.

"Don't make me sound too empathetic," Rayne laughed blandly. "I still haven't paid you back from nearly killing me that one time, so I needed you alive. Sounds fair?" Rayne hummed, though Nyais wasn't paying much attention to him now, despite having asked him a question only moments ago. He walked over to the door but paused, looking back. His lips parted as though he wanted to say something, but nothing left him.

"She's in your apartment," Rayne huffed, pulling the IV beside him like it was a dancing cane. Nyais extended his hearing to check the man's statement, quickly taking note of [Y/n]'s voice. And Mitzu's.

"Don't you think you'll need these?" Rayne questioned, holding two curved swords in his right hand as though they'd been conjured up like a magic trick. He slid them over to Nyais on the floor, who hesitantly picked them up.

"Why are you helping me?" Nyais spat.

"Because I hate them more than I hate you," Rayne responded levelly, before pulling his scalpel from his pocket, "now off you go, or I'll send you down there a second time." He paused. "And maybe you should put your shirt on." Nyais hadn't even noticed that he was still without a shirt, and he let out a huff when his attention was brought to it. He'd left his by the lake. To his surprise, a piece of fabric was tossed in his direction, falling on his face and obscuring his vision. He pulled it off himself and inspected it. It was a long sleeved black jumper, just like the one Rayne usually wore. Perhaps that was all he had. Nyais didn't really care. He pulled the jumper over himself, sighing at how it was slightly small for him, but not too small. It just clung to him a little.

Without another word (though a small nod of thanks), Nyais left Rayne's house, making a beeline for his own apartment just a few hallways away. He ignored the dumbstruck expressions of a couple of elites who walked past him, muttering to one another how "I could've sworn that man looked like Nyais," and how "no, that's impossible, he got killed by those kids, remember?"

"Hey you," one of them eventually called, and - within moments - Nyais' arm had been seized.

"What?" Nyais turned around darkly, his gaze full of anger and impatience. He had somewhere to be. He stared down at the face of Lyron, one of the elite guards, notorious in this area for his sycophantic nature towards people stronger than him and his utter dismissal of those that weren't.

"Oh my god, it really is you!" he called out, letting go of Nyais' arm and taking a few steps back. "I knew they couldn't have killed you! You beat Jay, after all," he laughed, shaking his head as though it was preposterous.

"Sure," Nyais mumbled, absentminded and disinterested. "I have to go." And so he continued down the corridor, the prying eyes of each and every painting burning a hole into his soul - he'd never felt so annoyed by the sensation of being watched. Perhaps being "dead" had made him paranoid. Still, he needed to get to [Y/n].

* * *

Tara had gone home to get changed for school shortly after her exchange with Damien, her mind whirling with a million questions. And, by the time she'd arrived at home and gotten herself ready, something much bigger was on her mind. What was Damien hiding?

Instead of walking to school, Tara left twenty minutes early to make the short walk to Damien's house. She knew he wouldn't appreciate it as his sister wouldn't ever let him live it down, but she needed to know. What was going on? She continued down the road and spotted a police crime scene cutoff area where he'd been stabbed. Finally, she reached the apartment complex. It did seem strange that they could fit an entire family in one of these.

Knocking on the door, she heard a scramble inside before it began to open. Damien stared at her in shock and confusion, his eyes wide with something that also seemed to be... fear?

"T-Tara, hi, um... why are you here? You know my sister's really annoying!" he rubbed the back of his neck. Tara found it strange that he shielded the inside of the house from her view, and especially strange that he mentioned his sister when there was clearly no one else in the house with him.

"Damien, I know your family aren't in right now, it's silent as a grave in there," Tara laughed, though it was forced. "Can I come in?"

"Y-yeah, um, I don't think that'd be a good idea— it's a total mess a-and—" he paused, looking at Tara's expression as she slowly became more suspicious. He could feel the emotion, practically taste it. He looked down and let out a sigh. "Tara... I—"

"What's going on here, Damien?" Tara questioned, knowing that whatever he'd been about to say was going to dance around the subject like a butterfly on a windy day. He slowly raised his gaze back up to her, before standing aside.

It was immaculate, so the messy part was the first lie. It was also tiny. Really really small. There was a small living room that the place opened up to, with a couple kitchen things (a tiny oven, a mini fridge and about 30cm of kitchen counter) on the far left wall. There wasn't even a kitchen table. Tara turned to look at the open doorway that led to Damien's room - she could see from where she was that there was enough space to fit a single bed and have about 20cm of walking space, maybe with a desk at the end of the bed if he was lucky — which he was.

"You want me to believe two working parents and their two children live in here?" Tara said quietly. She wasn't hurt or angry, which relieved Damien, but there was certainly something there that wasn't exactly... joyous. She turned to look at him after sweeping her gaze over the place, raising a brow - a look that demanded answers. "Well? Why did you lie? Where are your family?"

"I... they, I guess..." Damien tried to find a way to word it, but he struggled quite a lot. He sighed and shook his head. "I don't have a father, or a sister, and now I don't have a mother. She..." he paused, but Tara beckoned for him to continue, "my mother came from a very unfortunate place - women were essentially child-producing slaves unless they could prove themselves to be strong enough," he began. "My mother managed to run away. She desperately wanted a child, but she feared childbirth... she got herself on her own two feet and then adopted me."

"Damien... why did you never tell us this?" Tara asked, her expression sympathetic now. Damien did love her for that - platonically of course. [Y/n] had chosen two amazing friends.

"I tried. I used to joke about it all the time, but there wasn't an actual way of me telling you without you thinking I was mad. I guess now I can show you, though," he sighed. "My mother was a very intelligent woman. And... my mother," he paused, picking up a photograph from a small table beside the door of the gorgeous brunette woman, grinning at the camera with a look of excitement on her face. The photo was taken on the beach.

"My mother was a vampire."

He'd expected Tara to laugh, but no such laughter followed this time, for she saw the pointed teeth in her grin and the slits for pupils which were, though possible for a human, highly unlikely and unusual. And unless she was wearing colour contacts, her eyes couldn't possibly be that shade of... indigo.

"But you're not..." Tara tailed off. "Wait, did she turn you?" she questioned. Damien stared at her in shock for believing what he'd said, but quickly calmed his expression to a grateful one.

"Yes, but she turned me when I was a young child... and she didn't go through with the full thing. People believe that turning a human to a vampire is being bitten by one, but it's actually drinking their blood than turns you. The process is laborious and painful, however, and it has to be repeated over many days to have a full-strength vampire. By day three she couldn't bear seeing me writhing in agony anymore, so I'm some strange mix of human and vampire, though I'm not sure which one I'm closer to," he shrugged. Tara looked down.

"It feels so... outlandish..." she whispered. Damien nodded, before pulling up his shirt a little to reveal the stab wound. Or at least what had been the stab wound. It was entirely gone, completely healed up. Tara's eyes widened. "S-so... so that's part of being vampire— um, do you drink blood then?"

"I could live off blood if I really wanted to, but I'm not strong enough to feed myself that way. Human food is nutritious to me, too, but it tastes unpleasant. Not as unpleasant as my mother made it out to be, but certainly not... delectable. Still, I stick with it as I don't fancy having a blood-diet anytime soon."

"A-and... what happened to your mother?"

"They found her." He looked down. "A man came into our house one night and snatched her from it, telling her that she'd let the king decide what to do with her. Thankfully she'd sensed them coming and hidden me under the bed, so I waited it out until they were gone. I was 9 at the time."

"You've been living alone since you were nine?" Tara asked in shock. He nodded.

"This place... legally, it has no owner— I just hide the 'for sale' signs. Thankfully no one is interested in this complex, so I get to keep it. Have done since I was small." Tara stared at him wide eyed.

"One friend goes missing, another's a vampire..." she paused. "W-wait, so does that mean— hang on, shouldn't you be really strong? Couldn't you have fought that crazy guy off last night?"

"I choose not to exercise my skills," he sighed. Tara nodded, before looking down.

"Well, thanks for telling me... we ought to go to school." Damien nodded in agreement.