From childhood, I had learned to decipher my grandfather's words. When he couldn't answer directly, it meant there was something hidden—implying that a storm was waiting for us.
It was only when unease settled in that I realized Alma had never once said, "Lionel, I love you."
She had always been doubtful, especially about our future. She feared the swift passage of time, dreaded that in her twilight years, I would embrace another younger woman.
But she didn't know— although I aged quite slowly on the outside, but my heart would, especially after I encountered her— my heart aged and matured alongside hers. We would walk hand in hand under the setting sun, just like ordinary people. I wasn't just a cold-blooded vampire.
Yet every time I spoke of the future, she would gently press her fingers to my lips. "Lionel, you have more important things to do. You are a prince."
I admired her caution but hated her evasion.
