Vampire's Veil Of Obsession-Chapter 94: Sweet Dream Or Nightmare

Inside a lavishly furnished, spacious room, two men lay on separate king-sized beds. The air-conditioning hummed softly, maintaining the perfect temperature, while thick duvets covered them snugly.

The place was nothing short of luxurious—almost surreal in its extravagance.

One of the men stirred awake, his eyelids fluttering as a dull ache settled at the back of his head. His breathing was slow, measured, until realization struck. His eyes snapped open.

’Where am I?’

His heart lurched as he sat up abruptly, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him. The unfamiliar surroundings pressed in on him, suffocating in their perfection. The room was breathtaking—too perfect. A massive chandelier dangled from the ceiling, casting a soft golden glow. The walls were adorned with intricate patterns, gold trimming lining every corner.

It was the kind of place that only existed in Sweet dreams....Or nightmares.

His gaze darted to the side, settling on a table laden with an assortment of delicacies. A feast. Exotic fruits, chocolates, pastries—every dish meticulously arranged as if awaiting an honored guest. But the unsettling part was how untouched it all seemed. No sign of preparation, no lingering scents of fresh cooking. Just there. Waiting.

His breath hitched.

He quietly slipped out of bed, his legs trembling slightly as his bare feet met the cool marble floor. The sensation was grounding, but it did little to ease the creeping anxiety wrapping around his chest.

Turning towards the other bed, he hesitated before reaching out, shaking the shoulder of the man lying there.

"Jake...," he whispered.

A groggy groan answered him.

"Jake," he tried again, more urgent this time.

Jake grunted, swatting at the air lazily. "What the hell, man? I’m trying to sleep."

But sleep was the last thing on the driver’s mind. His pulse pounded in his ears. He couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in his gut, the sense that something was terribly wrong.

The last thing he remembered was being on the road. Then... nothing.

How had they ended up here?

"Please, get up," he insisted, his voice trembling.

A sigh. Then Jake finally sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. But as his vision cleared and he took in the grand surroundings, his expression shifted—from annoyance to confusion. Then, to fear.

"Where the hell are we?"

The driver swallowed hard. "I... I don’t know... and here you are, sleeping like we didn’t just wake up in the middle of a damn palace..."

Jake stiffened, eyes flickering across the room, taking in the unsettling luxury.

Then—

A soft click.

The lights flickered on, one by one, in a slow, calculated sequence. The brilliance of the room was undeniable, but rather than comfort, it sent a shiver racing down their spines.

The driver turned to Jake, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t think this is good..."

A chuckle echoed through the room.

Both men froze.

Their eyes darted to the far end of the room—where a high-backed chair sat, one that had gone unnoticed until now.

It turned slowly.

Their stomachs dropped as recognition settled.

The man seated there was their boss’s cousin.

Zethan.

Silence filled the air. Heavy. Unbearable.

The driver’s body reacted instinctively—teeth chattering, legs trembling. He gripped the bedpost for support, but it did little to steady him. The suffocating aura surrounding Zethan made it impossible to breathe.

Another chuckle.

Casually, Zethan stood, his every movement deliberate. He made his way to the lavish table, lifting a small plate with effortless grace. A fork in hand, he sliced through a piece of chocolate cake, bringing it to his lips.

A slow, savoring bite.

Then, a smirk.

"In my opinion," he mused, amusement lacing his tone, "I’d give this place a five-star rating. A dream rather than a nightmare, wouldn’t you agree?"

The way he emphasized nightmare sent another wave of dread rolling over them.

The driver’s lips trembled, but he dared not speak.

Zethan chuckled again, taking another bite as he sat and casually crossed his legs.

Then, he tilted his head, that faint smirk never leaving his lips. "Oh, my bad. Go on, make yourselves at home."

Neither of them moved.

The two men had done all sorts of work for their bosses—crossed lines, taken risks—but this... this was different.

Too late already.., they realized the gravity of their mistake.

No wonder even the high-ups had stayed silent. Even though their pay had been tripled, no one had warned them. No one had said a word.

Zethan grinned. "Come on, let’s have a little chit-chat."Setting his fork down. Then, with a snap of his fingers—

The doors swung open.

Tables slid aside.

Two chairs scraped across the floor, stopping right in front of them.

A servant entered, pushing a rolling cart stacked with an array of small cakes—different shapes, colors, flavors.

"Sit," Zethan ordered.

Their bodies moved before their minds caught up, as if compelled by an unseen force. Legs shaking, hands trembling, they sank into the chairs. Sweat dripped down their brows, the weight of an unspoken threat suffocating them.

Zethan remained eerily calm. His composed demeanor made their unease all the more unbearable. freёnovelkiss.com

"What’s your favorite cake?" he asked, his voice quiet yet sharp.

The men stammered in unison. "A-Any one..Sir."

Zethan smirked. "Fine. Give them anything."

The chef bowed respectfully before placing a slice of vanilla cake in front of one man and red velvet before the other. Then, just as swiftly as they had entered, the attendants vanished, leaving the three of them alone.

The men stared at the cakes in their hands, fingers trembling.

Across from them, Zethan leisurely took another bite of his own.

Then, he spoke again.

"So, tell me—what’s the last thing you remember before waking up in this... lavish room?"

His smile widened, revealing perfect, gleaming teeth. Slowly, he dabbed at his lips with a cloth before rising to his feet.

The men’s hands shook harder. The cake in their grasp felt weightless, tasteless, their senses betraying them. The walls seemed to close in, the air turning thick with silent terror.

Zethan took a step closer.

His lips curled into a slow, deliberate grin.

Then he whispered, "Run."

Their bodies lurched, instincts screaming.

Then, a whisper—

"Remember, two heads are better than one. Cooperation is key."

Zethan spoke with a devilishly predatory grin.

Before the driver could react, Jake—the other man—shot up from his seat, legs still shaking, and bolted for the door. The driver followed without hesitation, pushing forward.

They burst into a long, expansive hallway—an endless stretch, save for the eerie glow of dim light at the far end. But the moment they stepped inside, that light flickered out

Darkness swallowed them whole

Their breath hitched. Their bodies froze. Yet their feet kept moving, blindly, desperately.

Then, a voice echoed through the void.

"Keep running."

Low yet deep, it slithered through the darkness like a whisper from the abyss.

The driver obeyed, though fear clung to him like a suffocating blanket. Each step felt like an eternity—until—

BAM!

His forehead slammed into something solid. An unseen wall. He stumbled back, stars bursting in his vision as sharp pain flared across his skull. Warm blood trickled down his skin, the metallic scent thick in the air.

Then, he saw it.

A single eye.

Glowing. Red.

The moment stretched, suffocating. His body shuddered violently, an instinctive dread washing over him. He had never seen anything like this before. Ever.

Yet he knew whose eye it was.

Zethan’s.

A faint ember glowed beside the eye—a cigarette, resting between parted lips. The smoke curled, vanishing into the darkness.

Then, pain.

A sharp, searing pain shot through his jaw as fingers—no, nails—dug deep into his flesh. A chuckle followed, low and taunting, slithering into his ears like a cruel melody.

Zethan leaned in, his breath ghosting over the man’s trembling face.

"What’s your favorite eye?"

His voice was a whisper, but it carried weight—danger, amusement, cruelty all in one.

"Left... or right?"

A pause.

"You can’t see?" Zethan mused. "Why don’t we make it permanent?"

Before the man could react, sharp nails traced down his neck. A thin line appeared—a slow, stinging burn. Blood trickled, warm against his skin. His breath hitched as he sniffled involuntarily, but the moment he did—

Zethan pressed.

The sharp edge of his nail dug deeper, deliberate, sending another jolt of pain spiraling through the man’s nerves.

"Let’s start with the basics." Zethan’s voice was soft, almost gentle.

A stark contrast to the way his nail dragged.

"How long did it take for you to wake up?"

The man’s throat bobbed. "One hour—"

Slash.

Zethan’s nail carved another burning scratch into his skin. The man let out a strangled scream. It wasn’t deep—just enough to make him feel it.

"Or was it two?"

Another deliberate scratch, this one deeper. The man gasped, his body trembling violently.

His veins burned.

Not just from the scratches—Zethan was piercing them. His nails, precise and cruel, pressed into the sensitive areas of his veins, sending fire through his bloodstream.

Then—

Sssssss.....

The ember of the cigarette dimmed.

A second later, the driver howled.

Zethan had shoved the burning tip straight into his nostril.

The pain was instant—blinding. His head snapped back as a guttural, animalistic sound tore from his throat. His lips trembled from the searing agony, a broken hiss escaping him.

Zethan exhaled. Smoke coiled in the air.

"Or three?"

His nail bit in once more.

The man convulsed, his body jerking against the unseen force that held him in place.

"When I speak," Zethan murmured, voice smooth as silk, "you repeat after me. Is that clear?"

Frantic nodding. A gulp.

"Y... Y-yes..."

But Zethan wasn’t done.

Suddenly—

His grip shifted.

A sharp, precise press to the man’s neck—

And the world tilted.

The driver’s body crumpled, legs splitting unnaturally—one to the left, one to the right—as if he had been folded.

Then—Zethan was gone.

Just like that.

The man couldn’t move. His muscles locked, paralyzed by fear, pain, and something far deeper—something primal.

Meanwhile—

Jake ran.

His lungs burned, legs weak, but relief flooded him in tiny, desperate waves. He was escaping.

Or so he thought.

WHAM!

An unseen force yanked him backward.

His body soared through the air before he even had time to scream.

And then—nails.

A crushing grip on his neck.

His vision blurred as sharp nails dug in, cutting off his air. Before he could even register the pain, his body was flung.

Somersaulting.

His stomach twisted violently. The world spun in chaotic flashes—darkness, a flash of red, then—

Impact.

His back slammed against a wall, the force jarring through his bones.

His teeth—cracked.

Shards of pain burst through his gums as his mouth filled with the tang of blood. He groaned, dazed, agony clouding his senses.

But there was no time.

Zethan stood before him, face unreadable, gaze piercing through the darkness.

A flick of his wrist—

SLAM.

Another invisible force pinned Jake against the wall, his limbs spread, his body unable to move.

Zethan stepped closer, his eyes now a darker shade of red.

Then—

He whispered.

"Now... tell me..."

A breath of smoke curled between them.

"Who am I?"