Andrew hurried back home because that persistent boy refused to leave him alone.

Dylan had even let himself into his house—based on the text messages the boy sent—mostly because Andrew stupidly forgot to lock the door when he rushed out to meet Seamus earlier.

Maria was inside. She had been stable so far, but he always knew the worst could happen at any time.

Thirst changed everything, and the only thing strong enough to snap her out of it was human blood.

The moment Andrew pushed the door open, panic hit him. Maria was pinned to the floor by Dylan. Her fangs were out, her eyes unfocused, and her whole body shook with hunger.

"What's happening here, Andrew?! Who turned her into this!"

Dylan shouted as he grabbed the small vial from his jacket, uncapped it quickly, and pressed it to Maria's lips.

She drank it desperately. Within moments, her body relaxed. The trembling stopped, her eyes regained clarity, and she gasped as if she had just resurfaced from drowning.

Then the apologies came, spilling out of her like she was terrified of herself.

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to… I'm just— I'm just—" Her voice shook, and she sounded close to breaking.

"It's fine, Maria. What happened?"

Dylan asked, his expression softening as he slowly let her go.

Maria sat up, kept her eyes down, and refused to answer. Her hands clenched the fabric of her pants, knuckles white.

She stood quietly and apologized one last time before escaping back into the room, shutting the door behind her.

"Don't worry about her. She'll be fine," Andrew said as he crossed his arms.

"And what are you doing here? Should I call the cops for attempted robbery?"

"Yeah, go ahead. They won't pick up anyway. This town is finished," Dylan muttered.

His face looked darker than usual, as if he had seen something that still clung to him.

"I told you I want to follow you. You need to train me so I can defeat your son."

Andrew let out a short laugh. "That again? You wouldn't land a scratch on him even if you turned into a vampire yourself. Give it up."

He moved to the couch and slumped down, waving him off like an annoying stray cat.

"I won't know unless I try." Dylan sat across from him.

"Who said you could sit?" Andrew narrowed his eyes, but the boy didn't move an inch.

"You saw what vampires can do. And you still won't give up? You're a fool."

"I am. But that's what keeps me human. If I drop this, what else do I have? All my friends are dead because of your son. My parents too. David… everyone's gone. I have nothing left except this."

Dylan's hands tightened as he spoke, the determination in his voice almost painful.

Andrew clicked his tongue. "Purpose? That's the problem with revenge, Dylan. When it's over, you'll wake up one day and realize you have nothing left. Then what?"

Silence filled the room. Dylan stared at his fidgeting hands.

"See? You don't know," Andrew said. "Don't let hatred be your only purpose. You're still young. Stay in the light, Dylan."

"What light?" Dylan snapped. "This town is done. The police are useless. People are leaving."

"And do you know what the vampire hunters did to the survivors who were bitten? They killed them. All of them."

"How am I supposed to stay in an institution that murders innocent people?"

"They're vampires, and that's the protocol for scavengers," Andrew said, even though the words tasted bitter.

"The Hunters Association isn't pure and righteous. The world isn't black and white. And you need to accept that."

"Fine. Then you need to accept me too. I'll do whatever you demand. I've seen how you fought those scavengers and even that Crow. If you hate me, you can tell me to give up, and I won't complain."

Andrew rubbed his temple. He knew he couldn't leave the boy on his own. Some death around Dylan traced back to Seamus, and that responsibility hung heavy on him.

"Alright," Andrew finally said. "But don't you dare try anything with Maria."

Dylan's face lit up with victory. He pumped his fist once, realized how ridiculous it looked, and lowered it quickly while clearing his throat.

"No worries. She's not my type. If I wanted her, I would've made a move long ago." He paused.

"Besides, everyone knows she likes Seamus. Poor girl loves a bastard like him."

"Hey, don't insult my son," Andrew snapped. "And get out. We're leaving soon."

Dylan stood. "Fine. But don't leave me behind. I'll stalk you if I have to."

Andrew rolled his eyes as he watched the boy leave. A headache crept up behind his eyes.

It felt like he was about to take care of two unstable teenagers at the same time.

And somehow, that didn't surprise him anymore.

***

Today was the day they would leave. The sun looked as lifeless as the rest of Bork, dim behind a stretch of mist that slid down the hill and settled over the ruined town like a final farewell.

Five trucks were parked outside. Most of them were already loaded with the personal belongings of the Velstrath members, which apparently meant mountains of clothes, and jewelry

"That's insane. How much money do you guys have?"

Seamus stared at the five giant safes being hauled into one of the trucks. Each one was as tall as a grown man.

"Money?" Isolde scoffed as if he had said something stupid. "There isn't any money in there, Seamus. It's gold."

Seamus's face tightened. He hated having to speak to her at all, but the shock at their wealth slipped through before he could hide it.

"Don't make that face," Isolde said. "And you shouldn't be riding with us."

She tilted her chin toward Andrew, who was smoking beside the car, and Dylan, who was glaring at Seamus like a territorial dog.

"You might not get to see him again after this," Isolde said, tapping his shoulder.

"So spend whatever time you can, big boy." She then stepped into her car without waiting for his response.

Seamus let out a long breath. He didn't know how to talk to his father anymore. Not that he ever did, but now it felt even worse.

Especially with Dylan inside that car and Maria sitting quietly in the back.

But he still walked toward them. His hands stayed in his pockets, and all three of them looked a little surprised to see him approach.

"Is it okay if I come with you to the coastline?" Seamus asked.

They would all travel together until they reached the harbor. After that, Andrew and the others would continue by ship.

Once they reached the city, they would take a private jet since the local airport was the only one with flights to the northern border town, Lilium.

Seamus, meanwhile, would head to a smaller airport and fly east toward Rowani City.

Andrew straightened as if preparing himself. "Sure. Let's drive now." His expression was stiff and uncertain, a mirror of Seamus's own awkwardness.

Dylan opened his mouth to protest, but Andrew covered it firmly with one hand and shot him a warning glare.

That was enough to silence him.

Not long after that, the trucks and cars finally started moving, Andrew's car trailing behind all of them.

As expected, the moment Seamus stepped inside, the air turned painfully awkward.

Dylan kept staring at him, his mouth opening and closing like a confused fish.

Maria had solved the problem by turning herself into a cocoon inside a sleeping bag, only the top of her head visible.

Meanwhile, Seamus' eyes kept drifting to the pendant hanging from the mirror. A family photo—Andrew, Alice, and baby Seamus—dangling gently with each bump of the road.

"Ah," Andrew suddenly said, turning up the radio to soften the atmosphere. "I should've taken a picture of us. You and me."

"Oh. Yeah." Seamus scratched his cheek. "We… don't really have one."

"I have plenty of your photos," Andrew said with a small laugh.

"Elementary school, high school graduation… I also heard you enrolled in a new university. It's a shame I can't accompany you."

"It's okay, Dad. You never accompanied me anyway."

The words landed harshly. Even Seamus flinched at his own tone. He exhaled, softer this time. "You can come to my graduation, though."

Andrew blinked, hopeful, almost boyish. "Really? Good. I'd like that."

The road stretched on, and slowly the tension eased as familiar music filled the car.

Bork disappeared behind them, swallowed by distance, while the coastline unfurled ahead.

By evening the sky had turned a warm orange, gulls crying overhead, the sharp scent of salt and fish carried by the wind.

The caravan stopped. And so did Andrew's car.

Seamus already knew, this was where their paths split.

Andrew turned to him. "Take care, Seamus. Message me sometimes. Or send letters. And make sure you eat properly, don't overwork yourself."

"I know… you don't have to tell me," Seamus muttered, hands tightening. Then, after a beat: "Wait here."

He stepped out and strode toward the car in front, knocking on the window. Andrew watched as Seamus spoke, and Isolde—of all people—stepped out holding a Polaroid camera.

Andrew blinked in shock as he climbed out of the car too.

"Let's take a photo," Seamus said.

"Oh. Okay."

They stood side by side, awkwardly stiff, no pose, no smile rehearsed, just a father and a son who somehow never captured a moment together before.

Isolde lifted the camera. "Alright, three, two, one—"

click.

Then she took another for good measure and handed each of them the developing photos.

"Save it," she said simply.

Andrew stared at the picture, lips curved in a soft, disbelieving smile. "I should give you something too."

He returned to the car and unhooked the pendant from the mirror, placing it in Seamus' hands.

"Take this. It's the last picture of your mother."

Seamus froze. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I don't need it anymore. I have our picture."

Then he pulled his son into a hug, the kind of hug they never shared but always needed. They didn't speak. They didn't have to.

Seamus pulled away first, clutching the pendant tight, and walked back toward Isolde's car.

Andrew watched as it took the turn to the right, carrying his son away. The ache in his chest deepened, but he knew Seamus would be alright.

"Alice… our boy has grown up," he whispered into the wind.

He tucked the Polaroid into his jacket pocket and his fingers brushed something else. A folded letter.

David's handwriting.

Andrew opened it slowly.

---

"My dear friend, Damien.

I know you hate that name, but that's who you are to me; not the irresponsible, cruel drunkard Andrew you turned yourself into.

I'm sorry I couldn't take care of Seamus when you asked. But I sent him food every week. He refused money for some reason, but at least he accepted that.

I couldn't show my face… not after what happened to Elle.

So forgive me for that, and I will forgive you for your stupid decision to destroy your life.

Pain, my friend, turns humans into monsters.

But don't hold onto it forever, or you'll lose everything like I did.

Don't worry, Elle and I are at peace now. You should find your way too.

Apologize to Seamus. Spend time with that poor kid.

I hope life is kinder to you in the future.

Until we meet again, my friend."

---

A bitter smile tugged at Andrew's lips, but relief washed over him like the tide.

"You're right," he murmured to the glowing horizon. "Time to move on. Time to fix things."

He slipped the letter back into his pocket, walked to his car, and drove toward his new future.

Just like his son.

Just like he should've done long ago.

Goodbye, Bork.

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