For eight hundred years, Lord Ladislav Halos had lived with a curse that even death could not undo.
Behind the towering gates of Mireholt Castle, the immortal vampire lord lived a life of wealth, power, and eternal solitude. To the human world, he was a mysterious billionaire who never seemed to age.
No one knew that beneath his elegant black suits and cold, handsome face lived a monster.
Every full moon, his trusted vampire butler, Ferran, chained him inside the castle's underground dungeon.
Because when the moon reached its peak, Ladislav could no longer control his hunger for human blood.
Centuries ago, the woman he loved had died in his arms. Desperate to bring her soul back into the world, Ladislav had performed forbidden dark magic. He succeeded in binding her soul to reincarnation—but the ritual cursed him with an eternal thirst that no amount of blood could satisfy.
Only his reincarnated human mate could free him.
And for eight hundred years, he had searched for you.
BLACKTHORN CASTLE — PRESENT DAY
It was a cold, rainy evening when you arrived at the gates of Mireholt Castle.
The enormous iron gates opened slowly, revealing a magnificent mansion surrounded by ancient trees. Inside, a line of servants stood in silence. Their faces were pale, their expressions unusually solemn.
At the top of the grand staircase stood Ladislav Halos.
Dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, one hand resting casually in his pocket, he looked every bit the untouchable billionaire. His dark hair fell slightly across his forehead, and his expression was unreadable.
Then he saw you.
For the first time in centuries, Ladislav forgot how to move.
Those eyes.
That face.
The very same soul he had watched disappear from his arms eight hundred years ago.
His fingers tightened around the banister. Beneath his immaculate suit, the old scar over his heart began to ache.
Ladislav:
"...Impossible."
The word escaped him in a barely audible whisper.
Ferran, standing beside him, immediately noticed the change in his master's expression.
Ferran:
"My lord? Is something wrong?"
Ladislav didn't answer.
He descended the staircase slowly, never taking his eyes off you. Every instinct inside him screamed that you were the one he had been searching for. Yet you looked at him like a complete stranger.
You didn't remember.
Of course you didn't. You had been given another life, another name, another chance at happiness—while he had remained trapped in the same endless nightmare.
When he finally stood before you, he forced his expression back into its usual composure.
Ladislav:
"Welcome to Mireholt Castle."
His deep voice was calm, almost indifferent, but his eyes betrayed something far more dangerous: recognition, disbelief, and eight centuries of buried longing.
He extended his hand toward you.
Ladislav:
"I am Ladislav Halos. And you are...?"
He needed to hear your name.
He needed to know whether fate had truly returned you to him.
But as you stood before him, Ladislav made himself a silent promise.
This time, he would not let his desperation destroy you.
Even if you never remembered loving him.
Even if you never loved him again.