“Dead is the last
deception,
That I thought eternal.
 Dead.”
—Giacomo Leopardi
 
 
 
 
 
 
. . .
 
 
 
 
 
 
The sound of the glass windows breaking practically roared throughout the entire room with a ringing crash, the hail of broken glass practically raining down all over the goddess of shadows just as she opened her eyes. 
 
Proserpina was still seated on her study chair from where she must have fallen asleep just a few minutes ago, still holding on to the very detailed map of Tokyo now half-crinkled on her lap… and judging by the sudden noise beside her, it seems that her large mug of hot chocolate hadn’t survived the sudden onslaught of glass.
 
A pity.
 
She really liked that mug.
 
Proserpina lets out a put-upon sigh, neatly folding the map as someone drops in gracefully straight from the window in a crouch like some sort of feline before letting her attention fall on the intruder. It seems they had jumped just to get here, considering the angle and trajectory of the glasses.
 
Unbelievable…
 
How is she supposed to explain the mess to Alastor now?
 
She raised an eyebrow at her unwanted guest as she calmly placed the map on her desk. “Rude. Did no one ever bothered to teach you how to knock?”
 
“…well, that is not what I was expecting,” he merely says unhelpfully, his voice coming out a bit muffled, no thanks to the medical face mask that covered half of his face, his eyes shielded by an oversized sunglass even if it’s nighttime.
 
Ridiculous.
 
“What were you expecting, then?”
 
“I dunno,” he shrugs, the movement barely visible because of his baggy clothing, “Maybe a little anger and some threats about my apparent audacity? You know, the usual spiel gods loved to go on about?”
 
…and impertinent too.
 
“Maybe you got the wrong room?”
 
He heaves out a grand sigh, “Unfortunately, no.”
 
Proserpina doesn’t blink even as those oversized sunglasses seemed to stare right back at her, regarding her almost curiously from head to toe. The glasses didn’t even show a reflection of her or a hint of his eyes… strange.
 
“You don’t look like a goddess to me,” he muttered.
 
“And you don’t seem human to me.”
 
“That’s because I’m obviously not,” he admits, seemingly annoyed by the admission even, “…what’s your excuse?”
 
She shrugs, “I’m quite attached to this form.”
 
He snorts, “Seriously?”
 
And she left it at that.
 
She doesn’t really owe this intruder any sort of explanation about her current physical manifestation in the living realm.
 
He merely hums at her silence, stepping around the broken glass as he made a show of turning his head this way and that as if he was looking around the room, inspecting the ripped curtains and the carpet now littered with broken glass.
 
Despite his rudeness, she can tell that he was beginning to get irritated now, what with her curt responses. She could see it in his body language, in his furrowed eyebrows, and stiff shoulders.
 
As if he was owed an answer.
 
“One would think that a goddess would choose to live in a palace or a mansion,” he grumbled as he stepped towards the nearest bookshelf, his gloved finger ghosting over the books’ spines as he moved, “…not some middle-class motel.”
 
Proserpina only stared at him, completely bewildered. Because for some odd reason, it feels like he’s trying to get her angry on purpose.
 
Too bad.
 
“And one would think little boys don’t go around jumping in on a woman’s room, but here we are.” Proserpina scoffs, settling back in her chair. “Now. Will that be all? I was in the middle of a… good dream, and you just ruined it.”
 
“You seemed pretty much awake to me.”
 
There was a prickling feeling of wrongness nagging in the back of her mind ever since she woke up. It could be because of the dream itself or Warren Veil himself… and yet, Proserpina kept her expression cold and unimpressed as she could manage.
 
“And who’s fault do you think is that?”
 
“Look,” he practically growled out, half-turning on his heel as if to glare at her over his shoulder, “Can’t you at least try to take this seriously? For me? Please?”
 
Proserpina mockingly raised her brows, “For anyone? Oh, I certainly would. But you hardly take yourself seriously when you suddenly come crashing through my window like some would-be wrecking ball. In consequence, I can't take you seriously.”
 
Besides, this “man” was obviously a vampire.
 
The usual get-up wasn’t a conscious decision of just him being a walking, fashion disaster: those too-long sleeves and thick hoodies, shades, and facemask were all for the sake of convenience.
 
Too much cloth. Too much cover.
 
It all served as a shield during the day and the outfit itself was practically a glaring clue… a common outfit bloodsuckers would deign to wear whenever they’re feeling brave enough to venture out during the day and mingle amongst the humans in search for their next meal.
 
And that unnatural feat just now… jumping up to get to a thirteenth floor without any broken bones or injuries? Seriously?
 
There was no need for such dramatics.
 
Proserpina had already sensed his presence going straight to her long before he had literally crashed in through the window, anyway. He smelled of ashes and smoke. Of burning wood. It’s suffocating. The most deplorable stench there is in this world, in her opinion.
 
No matter how hard he had obviously tried to keep himself covered, with the baggy clothes, mask, and shades, he couldn’t mask that awful smell, burning as it prickled somewhere in the back of her mind. 
 
The smell brings back awful memories.
 
Still, despite herself, Proserpina was impressed.
 
There were some bold enough (and even a few stupidly brave) vampires she had encountered throughout the years; some of them even went as far as trying to making themselves look or act human and so pitiful enough in front of her that it was truly laughable as she watched them hoping against all hope that she would be merciful enough to spare them.
 
Some even had the audacity to face her head on in a fight or try to escape her, like Buck had attempted. But she had never met anyone stupid enough to actually come crashing straight to her room.
 
Like this one.
 
‘Knocking on death’s door just had gotten a new meaning it seems’, Thanatos mused as she half-listened in on the sounds of Alastor moving about from a few rooms away.
 
Amidst the clangs of baking tools and a bunch of other stuff being pushed out of his way, her poor wolf sounds so frantic as he let out a litany of curses. He sounds so worried. The noises must have already alerted him of their unwanted guest.
 
Wait a minute.
 
Hadn’t Alastor gotten rid one of Roman’s pawns for her back then? Huh. Now, that feels like a lifetime ago… she should return the favor now.
 
Proserpina needed to get this vampire outside or finish it here and now, where she wouldn’t have to worry about Alastor getting involved lest he had to come saving her from a vampire a second time. Like some damsel in distress.
 
And as a vampire hunter… that would be just so mortifying.
 
Before this one caught on that there was someone else just lurking about, Proserpina has to act quickly enough so the vampire wouldn’t notice her hesitation to attack...
 
Hopefully, he still hasn’t caught on.
 
 “I came here to ask for your protection, goddess of shadows,” he suddenly told her as he pulled his facemask down, revealing curiously rosy cheeks and still-pinkish lips.
 
She frowns.
 
This one look young, maybe somewhere around William’s age, but you’ll never know… looks can be very deceiving, and that applies especially well with their kind. He must have been turned just recently though, if he still has any lingering semblance of life in him.
 
“You’re enemies with the King, right?”
 
“That goes without saying,” she says, lightly.
 
“Protect me and I will help you,” he bargained, his voice coming out in a rush and taking on a very familiar tone, one that of begging.
 
She hums, “Why would I ever do that?”
 
“They’re coming for me–”
 
“Good. That make things easier for me then.”
 
“You don’t understand!” he snaps, “I didn’t ask for this, for any of this. I didn’t even ask to be vampire! I just… I just want to live, okay? To be free! Is that too much to ask?!”
 
…Oh?
 
Proserpina only stared.
 
This is new…
 
Strangely enough, this vampire doesn’t reek of fear or any sort of false bravado like the ones she had hunted. He sounds so genuine. But even if she couldn’t hear any lie from him, there was still… something off… about him.
 
In fact, everything about him just screams ‘suspicious.’
 
She didn’t like it.
 
“Is that how you ask for help? Your manners are awful,” Proserpina told him instead, crossing her arms, “Far more tragic than anything the Fates could think of.”
 
The vampire crossed his arms back, mirroring the gesture as he scowled at her in what seemed to be frustration, revealing a hint of a fanged tooth just peeking shyly from his upper lip. “Have you ever heard the saying, ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’?”
 
“We are not friends–”
 
“Wanna bet, Win-Win?”
 
She froze.
 
What…?
 
He smirked then, a gloved hand reaching up to remove his sunglasses. And Proserpina suddenly found herself staring right at Warren Veil’s face.