The school bell rang, echoing through the corridors of St. Helena Academy. Students poured out of their classrooms, their chatter filling the air. Among them was Akihiro Kuroda, the tall, dark-haired boy with piercing crimson eyes that held secrets no one dared to question. To the world, he was just the school’s most handsome playboy—arrogant, untouchable, and dangerous. But in truth, Akihiro was far more than that. He was a vampire, heir to a mafia empire that operated from the shadows.

And then there was his curse: every night, a girl appeared in his dreams. A girl he had never met in real life.

That night, as he lay on his bed in his black suit, staring at the ceiling, the mist began to creep into his room once again. His lids grew heavy, and soon he was pulled into that familiar dreamscape.

The air was thick with fog, swirling like silk around him. He stood in a desolate meadow, the moon glowing unnaturally bright above. Then, just like before, she appeared—stepping out of the mist with an elegance that seemed otherworldly. This time, she wore a flowing white gown, her long dark hair cascading down her back, her lips curved into a gentle smile.

“You again…” Akihiro whispered, his usual smirk faltering. For a boy who feared nothing—not bullets, not enemies, not death—this girl made his chest tighten in a way he didn’t understand.

She tilted her head, eyes soft yet full of mystery. “Why do you always look at me as if I’m not real?”

“Because you aren’t,” Akihiro said sharply, trying to mask his unease. “You’re just a dream.”

Her smile didn’t fade. Instead, she stepped closer. “And yet, every time you see me, your heart races. Do dreams usually make you feel alive?”

His crimson eyes narrowed. He wanted to argue, but the words stuck in his throat. The mafia prince, the untouchable vampire, was speechless.

She stopped just inches away from him. Her presence was warm, almost angelic, contrasting with the darkness that lived inside him. “My name is Aiyumi,” she said, her voice carrying through the mist like music.

Akihiro’s heart pounded. For the first time, the dream gave him something real—a name.

But before he could respond, a sudden tremor shook the meadow. The mist thickened violently, and a shadowy figure emerged, red eyes glowing like fire. Akihiro instinctively stepped in front of Aiyumi, baring his fangs, his mafia instincts awakening.

“What the hell is this?” he growled. “Who are you?”

The shadow only laughed, a deep, echoing sound. “The girl doesn’t belong to you, vampire. She is mine.”

Aiyumi’s hand clutched Akihiro’s sleeve, fear flickering in her eyes. For the first time in years, he felt something stir inside him—the need to protect.

The meadow began to crumble, the dream threatening to end. Akihiro turned to her, gripping her hand tightly. “I’ll find you,” he swore, his voice low but firm. “No matter what. Even if it’s not a dream.”And then he woke up, gasping in the dark. But this time, one thing was different.

Her name—Aiyumi—lingered on his lips.

By day, Akihiro Kuroda looked like any other 17-year-old senior at St. Helena Academy. His uniform was always slightly untidy, his tie loose, and his black hair perfectly messy as though the wind itself styled it. Teachers sighed whenever he walked into class late, and girls whispered about him in the hallways. Akihiro was the school’s golden boy and its worst distraction.

But Akihiro wasn’t just a charming student. Behind his easy smile and careless confidence hid secrets that no one in school could ever imagine. He wasn’t fully human. Born into darkness, Akihiro was a vampire, cursed with immortality and an endless thirst for blood. And if that wasn’t enough, he was also the only son of Veloria’s most feared mafia boss. By midnight, while his classmates revised equations and history notes, Akihiro sat at bloodstained tables, listening to men twice his age call him sir. He was the heir to an empire of crime, destined to rule it all.

Two lives. One boy. And yet, for all his power, Akihiro felt strangely hollow.

That night, after a bloody confrontation with rival gang members, Akihiro returned to his room. He threw off his jacket, loosened his shirt collar, and collapsed onto his bed. For once, the endless weight of his double life pressed hard on him. Closing his eyes, he drifted into sleep.

And then—he dreamed.

Akihiro found himself standing in a garden he didn’t recognize. The moon above glowed brighter than any city light, bathing everything in silver. Strange flowers bloomed with an otherworldly glow. For the first time in centuries, he felt… peace.

Then she appeared.

A girl stepped out from the mist, her figure delicate yet powerful. She wore a simple white gown that fluttered with the breeze. Her long dark hair framed a face that radiated innocence, but her eyes—her eyes carried a strength that made Akihiro’s immortal heart stutter.

He stared, uncharacteristically lost for words. “Who… are you?” he asked, his voice breaking the silence.

The girl tilted her head, studying him with a gaze that seemed to pierce through all his masks—the playboy charm, the mafia arrogance, even the vampire’s coldness. Then she whispered words that sent a shiver through his body.

“You’ve been running from yourself… but your darkness ends with me.”

Before Akihiro could move toward her, before he could even ask her name, the garden dissolved into mist. He woke up suddenly, fangs bared, sweat dampening his skin. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his mind spinning.

Akihiro had lived lifetimes, witnessed empires rise and fall, but never had a dream left him trembling. Who was she? Why did her words burn into his soul?

The next morning, Akihiro walked into St. Helena Academy like always, pretending to be the untouchable heartthrob. He leaned against the doorway, flashing a smirk at the girls who gasped at his entrance. But then—he froze.At the back of the classroom, sitting quietly with a book in her hands, was a new girl.

The same girl from his dream.

To be continued…

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Akihiro Kuroda had faced assassins, blood wars, and rival gangs, yet nothing unnerved him as much as what he saw that morning.

There she was. Aiyumi.

The girl from his dreams, now sitting in his classroom as though she had always belonged there. Her presence was so ordinary, so human, and yet he felt the same overwhelming energy from the dream. She sat quietly, her white ribbon tied neatly in her hair, her gaze fixed on the teacher.

Akihiro’s smirk faltered for the first time in school. The usual whispers from girls around him—“He’s so handsome”, “I wish he’d look at me”—faded into meaningless noise. All he saw was Aiyumi.

He slid into his seat, eyes never leaving her. His heartbeat, something he thought had stopped centuries ago, thudded in his chest. Why is she here? How is this even possible?

During break, Akihiro leaned back in his chair, pretending to scroll through his phone, but his crimson eyes kept flickering toward her. Every detail—her delicate hands flipping the pages of a book, the way she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear—felt painfully real. Not a dream. Not an illusion.

Finally, he decided. He had to speak to her.

He rose from his chair, the air around him shifting as classmates watched. Akihiro rarely approached anyone—people usually came to him. His reputation as the untouchable playboy made his sudden interest in a quiet new girl all the more shocking.

He walked toward her desk, his shoes clicking against the polished floor. Aiyumi looked up, her calm eyes meeting his. For a second, Akihiro forgot his practiced charm, forgot his carefully constructed mask.

“You,” he said softly, almost to himself.

Her lips curved into a faint smile, the same one from the dream. “I was wondering how long it would take you.”

The words struck him like lightning. She knew.

Akihiro leaned in, lowering his voice so no one else could hear. “Who are you really?”

She tilted her head. “Didn’t I already tell you? My name is Aiyumi.”

“That’s not what I mean.” His eyes glowed faintly red, a dangerous spark flashing through them. “You were in my dream. More than once. That’s not possible.”

Instead of fear, she gave him a steady look. “And yet, here I am.”

For the first time in centuries, Akihiro felt himself losing control—not to bloodlust, not to rage, but to something far more unsettling: curiosity.

Before he could press her further, the classroom door burst open. A messenger from his father’s mafia network stood outside, pale and shaking. Akihiro cursed inwardly. He wasn’t supposed to be disturbed here.The man bowed slightly. “Young master… it’s urgent.”

Akihiro’s jaw clenched. His two worlds—school and mafia—were colliding again. He turned back to Aiyumi, his voice low and dangerous.

“This isn’t over.”

Aiyumi simply smiled, her calmness unshaken. “I know.”

As he left the room, a thought gnawed at him.

If she wasn’t just a dream, then who—or what—was Aiyumi?

To be continued…