Crimson Kiss-hidden tears||ماچی سوور-فرمێسکی شاراوە

The air in the library hung heavy with the scent of old paper and the unspoken history of a world fractured. Jessy sighed, pushing away another dusty tome detailing the grim past of the vampires. “So boring,” she muttered, stretching her cramped limbs. This village, this school, two classrooms for forty students—all dedicated to learning about the creatures who ruled them.

Her presence here was already an anomaly, a privilege granted only because her father, a pharmacist, had pleaded with Lilyan, their vampire teacher. Lilyan, unlike the others, possessed a quiet composure that made her less terrifying. Jessy, at eighteen, was already an old student by village standards, where human education stopped at history, with no math, no physics—nothing to truly understand the world beyond their subservience.

“Late again, Miss Jessy,” Lilyan’s voice, sharp but controlled, cut through the quiet. Jessy bowed her head in apology. She felt like an extra in her own life, a misplaced piece in a world that didn't quite fit her. Her gaze drifted to the empty seat beside her, a constant reminder of her solitude in a classroom full of pairs.