Nara tends to have this issue where she forgets that she, in fact, is not invincible.

She can't help it—once she engages in the fight, in life or death, she forgets everything other than her instincts. She is no one but a masked killer bringing justice to light. What happens to her does not matter as long as she strikes the final blow.

So as she staggers away from the crime scene she just left behind, she fails to realize her staggered breaths and bleeding shoulder until she raises it to try and scale the abandoned church building to try and gain some high ground in case the coven comes after her, and it sears in excruciating pain.

She hisses and cradles her shoulder, eyes scanning every dark corner for any threats before staring at her shaking hand, covered in her own blood.

"Shit," she mumbles.

Her head is pounding, and her eyesight is growing bleary. There's no way she'll be able to make it home before she inevitably passes out, and she does not want to be caught unconscious in Mors territory. Especially with the target she just put on her back after her newest conquest.

Was it worth it? The kill? The rush of it all? Was it what you craved?

She pants, fluttering her eyes as she leans against the wall. Her hand shakes as she attempts to carry her weight, and she furrows her brows in confusion. Her mind is blank, and she can't seem to think. Her right arm is bloody and immovable, and her entire body feels weak and feverish, She takes a few deep breaths before stumbling to pull her phone out of her bandolier.

It shakes in her hand as she dials a number she knows by heart.

On the first ring, it picks up. A tired voice croaks, "Nara?" Then, shuffling, as if they just rose from the bed and sat up straight. Their voice comes out clearer now, laced with concern. "Are you okay?"

It's silent for a split moment, and Nara winces before panting, "Yes."

More shuffling. "Shit. Stay right where you are. Send your location. I'll be right there."

She nods slowly, feeling the world spin with every shake of her head. "Okay." She whispers.

"Nara?"

"Yeah?"

"You're an asshole."

Then the line ends.

*******

Nara wakes to the voice of an angel.

A very, very mad angel.

They're slapping her cheeks. Not enough to hurt, but enough to send a sharp pinch through her face that forces her to open her eyes wearily. She sighs as she looks up; the twilight sky is in enchanted with different shades of pink and gold, the sun slowly peaking over the horizon and through the many gothic-style buildings and peaked arches.

It was dark when she first closed her eyes. Her mouth is agape, and she can barely manage to mumble, "How long have I been out?"

"For too long," the voice says, and she blinks slowly before turning her head to face them. The action hurts more than it should; her neck feels stiff and sore. She's sitting half up against the dirty brick wall a few streets over from where she initially got stabbed and then brutally murdered three vampires.

She feels pride prick at her skin but forces it down. Now is definitely not the time to brag to Donghyuck about her successes, especially when she's bleeding out in a dark alleyway.

Instead, she reaches out with her good arm and searches for his hand. His expression is full of concern and slight annoyance (because he will be annoyed with Nara no matter what she does--like an older brother eternally done with his little sisters' antics. He knows her too well to know that her intentions will never be good) but he accepts her hand and locks their fingers together, squeezing it reassuringly.

Suddenly, someone crouches beside her and she tilts her head sleepily. Mark squats beside her with that soft, warm smile of his.

She can't help but return the smile loopily. She giggles, then coughs. Blood spews from her mouth and splatters onto the ground. It reminds her of the vampire's blood on the asphalt---still on her hands. "Oh, you're here too."

"Of course I'm here." Mark stares at her for a split second before grimacing. "Hey, I gotta dress the wound, okay?"

Nara purses her lips and grunts, "M'kay."

He raises his brows before his fingers go to her abdomen. He unbuckles all of her straps and then tugs off the various layers of her uniform. The white fabric is tainted by blood---but not all of it is hers. Donghyuck forces her to raise her arms despite her delirious whines and protests while Mark pulls the layers over her head. He quickly covers her chest and abdomen with a crocheted blanket that she just knows for a fact was made by Taeil.

She didn't really care if she was undressed in front of them, even if she wasn't bleeding out, she still felt safest with them. She'd never admit it, but that doesn't mean she doesn't feel it.

Mark gently places his hands over her shoulders---making sure to avoid the stab wound---and tilts her to the side into Donghyuck's chest. She whines but rests her head into the crook of his neck anyway, basking in the warmth of his skin.

Donghyuck tightens the blanket around her and rubs her arm comfortingly while Mark brings a clean cloth to her wound. He has an entire box full of medical supplies near him, but Nara doesn't pay much attention in favor of inhaling Donghyuck's familiar scent of dark rose and cedarwood.

Suddenly, she hisses in pain as Mark begins cleaning the wound. She flinches and hides her face further into his neck.

If she were in her right mind---she knows she would hate every aspect of this. Being stupid enough to get stabbed by her prey, having to call for help, being held as if she will break. It reminds her of when she was a little girl; weak and helpless.

Still, if anyone has to see her like this, she's glad it's Donghyuck and Mark.

Donghyuck places his chin over her head as Mark begins closing the wound, wrapping it tightly in gauze.

His lips kiss her crown gently as he shakes his head. "You're such an idiot."

I know.

******

After dressing her back in bloody cloths, for that is all they had, they head to Headquarters.

Mark tried to carry Nara on his back, in fear that she would faint again from the blood loss or lightheadedness, but Nara, stubborn as she is, insisted that she could walk the rest of the way.

By the time they made it to the building, the sun was already high in the sky and she was the only weirdo drenched in blood. She was covered in scratches and grime and dirt, and apparently so much so that the computer system couldn't even recognize her own fingerprint. They had to enter using Donghyuck's.

"Where have you been?" A voice bellows the moment the door slides open, barely giving Nara a chance to adjust to the harsh bright, white light of the headquarters before she's swarmed by her colleagues.

They crowd her with big, curious eyes. Others with disconcerted glances, some with looks of contempt. Whatever. She's used to that.

Donghyuck and Mark are still holding her and supporting her weight, which for once she is grateful for once Iseul walks through the doors. She isn't sure if she would have been able to carry her own. Her legs felt weak and her head and heart pounded in sync like wings--two parts of the same half--as she watched the other woman with careful eyes.

Operating on instinct alone, Nara straightens slightly---as well as she can.

Iseul regards her with a tilted chin, looking down at her with a gaze full of disappointment. Nara stared back at her with a defiant gaze, narrowing her eyes.

The woman is slightly older than her by about five years, and her experience compared to Nara's could be tripled by a thousand. Her layered uniform and white trench coat are pristine and make her shine with a beauty and elegance that only Nara could dream of achieving, but is so far away from it in her bloody rags. The ruby pendant nestled against her chest gleams with unleashed anger as she glares at the other.

Nara subconsciously reaches for her own, shaking fingers enclosing over the cold metal charm.

Iseul crosses her arms. Nara shivers as she watches her eyes trail her bruised and bloody body. "Well, what the hell did you do?" She snaps.

Nara furrows her brows and attempts to step forward, but Mark and Donghyuck hold her back. "I was doing my job. You should be asking about what those blood-suckers did to me."

The woman scoffs. Her long, dark brown hair falls over her shoulder. "My guess is that you went off your assigned route on your own, and deliberately went against our rules to hunt for that vampire coven," she pauses, tongue darting across her lip before tilting her head. "Am I correct?"

Nara is simmering, but she lowers her head in defeat. "Yes."

Iseul sighs and walks over to one of the desks in the left corner. A holographic computer screen flickers on top of it, and she quickly types something into the thin keyboard with fast precision. A few seconds later, a map of the city appears with red dots scattered across it. "You were assigned to the Cheshire district with your partner, who you left alone and vulnerable, by the way," she shoots a glare over her shoulder. "Then we lost your signal. Where did you go?"

Nara looks up, and she can't help the satisfactory gleam in her eyes even as she is being scolded. "I spotted one of a Mors bloodling and his minions a couple of streets down the Cheshire district, and I followed him all the way into Fatale Ave."

Collective gasps filtered across the room. Nara searches the group, meeting the eyes of all of her colleagues who have shot her down, belittled her, or didn't believe in her, and finds the eyes of the only other person in this entire group who never did any of those things---Zhong Chenle. But when their eyes meet, they are not the same brown eyes filled with love and warmth that always gaze back into her. No, these are the eyes of someone different--one whom she cannot figure out.

"Did you know?" She asks.

Chenle's face remains impassive. He steps forward slightly. "Did I know what?"

"That there were vampires from the Mors coven circling your neighborhood."

A pause. His face shifts into one of thought before returning to a stoic expression. It unnerves Nara. She is used to his sunshine smile and crinkled eyes and warm voice. "No."

He doesn't elaborate, which pisses Nara off. Before she can say anything, Iseul interrupts. "Chenle, if you've noticed any abnormal activity in that neighborhood, it's important that you tell us. The Mors coven is one of the most influential groups in the city, and their numbers and power are only growing. You swore an oath to us." She presses.

Chenle's eyes dart to hers, to Nara's, then back to hers. He shakes his head. "I haven't seen anything."

Nara's heart is pounding against her chest, and she can't help the surge of rage she feels. She did not just battle three vampires on her own and get stabbed in the shoulder just to be diminished by lies.

Well, perhaps they aren't lies. There may be a chance that Chenle genuinely didn't notice the royal coven prowling his neighborhood, but even so, that's a poor job on his part. And Nara knows what she saw---what she killed.

With an impatient huff, she shimmies out of Mark's grasp and pulls a bloody handkerchief out of her coat pocket, and throws it on the desk next to Iseul. "Then you're not looking hard enough."

Iseul's brows furrow as she picks up the cloth. She flips it over and her eyes widen slightly---barely any emotion showing, but just enough to fill Nara with pride. She turns it around to show to the group, showing the royal sigil of a bleeding rose embroidered at the center of the tattered kerchief.

"Where the hell did you get that from?" One of her colleagues asked.

Nara's answer is sharp and unapologetic. "I pried it from his cold, dead hands."

Chenle audibly gasps. Soft and quiet, but sharp. He visibly pales at the sight, and Nara narrows her gaze.

It's silent for a few moments until Iseul turns towards her with a heated glare. "So not only did you go off course and abandon your partner, but you also got yourself injured and murdered a member of the royal vampire coven that rules over our city."

It seems more like a statement than a question, and Nara feels stupid to answer because obviously, yes. That's exactly what she did.

Iseul rubs her forehead before looking up. "Do you have any idea what you've just done?"

Nara nods, her hardened gaze lit aflame. "I told you from the beginning what I wanted, commander. They killed my father. This isn't a game for me."

"I'm offended that you think this is a game for us. Plenty of us have been wronged by the Mors coven, but we don't go abandoning missions and risking our lives and others for revenge,"

She sighs, shaking her head before looking up under her bangs, and Nara recognizes that look. The one of excitement and adrenaline. She craves blood too, just like they all do.

"I do hope you have a plan...because you've just begun a war," Iseul says.

That's exactly what Nara always wanted.