Chapter 11
Episode 11
“What’s with you?”
Doyoung asked sharply. Gamal, having caught her breath but still pale from shock, replied:
“I like it here.”
“Don’t lie. If you were just trying to hide that you live here, there’d be no reason to panic so much at seeing a plane.”
At the accusation, Gamal closed her mouth.
“Right. You weren’t planning to tell me anyway.”
Doyoung stood up, growing tired of the conversation. He grabbed a tree for support and managed to stand with relative ease.
“Lieutenant…”
As Gamal tried to follow, she suddenly staggered and fell. Doyoung paused mid-step, sighed, and turned back.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
She forced a smile as she lifted her head, but her face had turned so pale it looked almost blue against her already fair skin. Doyoung furrowed his brow.
“This isn’t ‘nothing.’”
After hesitating, Gamal confessed:
“Everything’s spinning…”
“Dizzy?”
Gamal nodded slightly.
“Sit here.”
Doyoung helped her sit beneath the tree’s shade. Gamal leaned her head back against the trunk.
Her pale skin now carried a bluish tint, ghostly even by her standards—this wasn’t just shock. Doyoung thought he understood the cause.
“It’s because of the flowers, isn’t it?”
Gamal nodded with her eyes closed.
Just as he’d suspected. Eating raw flowers wasn’t effective enough. While they could slightly curb thirst, only when processed into flos could they properly substitute for blood.
“I’ve been eating lots of flowers… but sometimes I still get dizzy.”
Gamal slowly opened her eyes. The unusually pronounced ridges of her irises shimmered with a slick gloss. That sensation gripped Doyoung again—the icy dread of locking eyes with a snake, his body freezing mid-breath.
“Blood tastes good.”
Gamal’s whisper hung in the air as she stared unblinking at Doyoung.
“But when I drink it… this races.” She pressed a hand firmly against her chest.
“Blood…”
She murmured the word like someone recalling a forgotten memory, her gaze fixed on Doyoung’s neck—specifically the veins where blood pulsed vigorously.
Doyoung didn’t move. He knew any sudden action might provoke an attack. Tension coiled through him to his fingertips.
Abruptly, Gamal wrenched her head away as if fighting an impulse, then blinked as though realizing what she’d done.
“Ah…”
Doyoung gripped his crutch and stood.
“Rest here.”
He left Gamal swaying as she tried to rise, turning to walk away. When he glanced back, she was watching him depart with a lost expression.
Her pale face looked unbearably pitiful.
“Lieutenant, eat this.”
Gamal held out a roasted taro. Doyoung looked up from his meal.
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You should eat. I’m full.”
“You? The girl who could devour an entire cow in one sitting? Just eat it.”
Doyoung dismissed her like a stern husband and continued eating. Gamal fidgeted before finally popping the taro into her own mouth—
“Give it here.”
—only for Doyoung to thrust his bowl forward. Gamal quickly deposited the taro into it.
Doyoung stared at the tuber and muttered:
“Never thought I’d see the day taro seems appetizing.”
He shoved the entire piece into his mouth and chewed vigorously.
After cleaning up post-meal, he announced:
“Let’s head back.”
“Okay. Need help?”
Gamal’s question came too quickly. Doyoung studied her before answering:
“Sure.”
She supported him as he stood, his arm now familiar over her shoulders.
Gamal performed the simple task with the intensity of someone operating a nuclear centrifuge—clearly still anxious about the day’s events. Watching her, Doyoung snorted:
“Weirdo.”
“Hm?”
“Nothing.”
They settled into the log cabin.
“Sleep well.”
“You too.”
Doyoung turned away, then added:
“Stop overthinking. I’m not bothered.”
Though the statement lacked a subject, Gamal seemed to understand. He felt her gaze on his back before hearing her soft murmur:
“Thank you.”
Doyoung fell asleep. When he briefly woke later, familiar warmth pressed against his back—Gamal had glued herself to him again.
Someone this clingy claims to live alone?
His drowsy thoughts scattered as a small hand crept over his ribcage. He jolted fully awake.
This little pervert!
Outraged, he barely registered the palm sliding from his chest to abdomen. The audacity!
He refused to admit her touch felt... pleasant.
As he opened his mouth to protest:
“Lieutenant.”
Gamal’s whisper tickled his neck. She’d noticed he was awake.
“You smell delicious…”
Ice shot down his spine. Invisible malice radiated from the vampire clinging to him—a tiger holding its prey. Her arms locked like steel bands when he tried to break free.
Suddenly Gamal jerked upright, clarity returning. Doyoung twisted to see her newly pale face.
“S-sorry!”
She fled before he could speak.
“Gamal!”
But she’d already vanished through the open door.
Gamal didn’t return that night.
At dawn, Doyoung hobbled outside. Sunlight bathed the empty clearing. Without her help, his injured leg limited his mobility.
He sat on the beach reading one of the cabin’s books, waiting through midday. Emerald waves lapped at shores worthy of travel brochures.
“Gamal.”
He spoke suddenly.
“I’m hungry.”
Bushes rustled. Moments later, Gamal emerged wearing the expression of a convicted felon. Though lacking a vampire’s keen senses, Doyoung had easily felt her lurking gaze.
He gestured to the sand beside him.
“Sit.”
She shuffled over.
“Don’t make that face. It’s your nature—can’t be helped.”
Gamal looked as if struck.
“You’re… the first to say that.”
“I’m used to vampires.”
Long past judging them through prejudiced lenses. To Doyoung, vampires needing blood was as natural as dogs eating kibble—illegal or not.
Dark circles hung under Gamal’s eyes. Not from lost sleep—flowers couldn’t provide sufficient nutrients. Her already slender frame edged toward skeletal.
“Flowers aren’t enough, are they?”
“No, I—”
“Just answer honestly.”
Under his calm gaze, she finally nodded.
“Sometimes… I drink animal blood. But the smell…”
She didn’t mention leaving the island for flos. Pointless when she refused to go.
After a pause, Doyoung asked:
“Do you want blood now?”
She couldn’t answer.
“I want meat.”
Gamal’s eyes rounded.
“Huh?”
When he didn’t elaborate, she gestured vaguely behind them.
“Should I… catch some?”
Her earnest offer amused him.
“Cravings are natural. My body demands it.”
Understanding dawned.
“But I don’t want to drink from you! You’re my friend!”
Tears glinted in her crimson eyes as she bit her lip.
“Yet I still want to. I hate it!”
“You need it.”
Her mouth opened, closed.
Doyoung raised a hand.
“Not saying drink freely. Take enough to survive. If you die, this leg strands me here.”
“But… aren’t you scared? If I lose control…”
He shrugged.
“Go too far and I’ll bash your skull with a rock.”
Though hardly gracious, Gamal whispered:
“Thank you.”
“We’re friends.”
Her heart lurched strangely—a tiny dancer somersaulting in her chest.
“Promise me. Never drink without permission.”
She shook her head violently.
“Never!”
Doyoung pointed behind her.
“Bring that.”
“That?”
She turned to see a fist-sized rock in the sand.
“A rock?”
“Said I’d hit you if necessary.”
“Oh. Right.”
She fetched it without question. When Doyoung remained silent, she ventured:
“So…?”
“Go ahead.”
Gamal crawled toward him on her knees.
