Chapter 2: Simple Routine

Beep. Beep. Beeeep.

Beneath the rumpled covers, his hand fumbled for the phone, silencing the alarm. He rubbed sleep from his eyes, yawning into his pillow as he lay on his stomach. Another quiet morning, like all the others. The delicate chime of wind charms danced through the window, mingling with sporadic birdsong - a peaceful start to the day.

With another jaw-cracking yawn, he stretched before rising from bed. His bare feet carried him to the bathroom where he brushed his teeth while mindlessly scrolling through his phone, snippets of music punctuating his browsing. Phone deposited on the cool marble countertop, he splashed water on his face before stepping into the shower's steady stream. Clean and dressed, he moved to the kitchen, preparing his standard light breakfast - crisp bacon, fluffy eggs, and a tall glass of water.

The tinted glasses slid onto his nose, transforming his unusual dark purple eyes into an unremarkable sky blue. Fingers tapped rhythmically against his phone screen as he composed a message to his sister:

> Good morning ^^!

> Did you sleep well? I hope you did. Remember to take your pills, okay?

> I don't want you to get sick. Have a good day, Cerce ^^

Ceecee is typing...

.

.

A simple thumbs-up emoji appeared in response.

He exhaled through his nose, setting the phone aside to finish his meal. Her replies never varied - if he was lucky, maybe a word or two. It didn't upset him; she had her own life now.

The familiar morning routine continued: lights switched off, unnecessary cords unplugged to save electricity, coats shrugged over his shoulders. He gathered his white hair into a low ponytail before locking the apartment door behind him. The crisp morning air filled his lungs as he stepped outside - and promptly sneezed.

The neighborhood slowly came to life around him as he walked. He nodded to familiar faces, exchanging brief greetings until reaching his usual stop - the 'Old Lavender' café. The pink-haired owner with her distinctive downturned yellow eyes brightened at his entrance.

"Yoohoo! Evan, the usual?" Anne slid a steaming cup across the counter before he could answer, anticipating his order like clockwork.

"Ahaha—yes, Anne. How are you today?" he chuckled.

"Oh, you know," she waved a dismissive hand, "same old. I'll swing by the library after closing - those books are due. See you then! Enjoy your coffee!" With a cheerful wave, she turned to greet new customers.

Evan returned the gesture before settling in with his drink. A book emerged from his bag, and he lost himself in its pages, enveloped by the café's comforting ambiance - the murmur of conversation, the rhythmic tapping of keyboards, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. He lingered longer than intended before finally packing up for work.

A sudden outburst shattered his focus.

"Ahhhh! I can't stand that publisher! What does he mean 'boring and repetitive'? It's horror - my specialty!" A lanky redhead slumped dramatically against the counter.

"Trouble in paradise?" teased a black-haired girl with electric blue highlights.

"What's that supposed to mean, Diane?"

"Well..." She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. "You go on about your novels like you're married to them."

"I don't sound like that, do I?" The writer rubbed his neck sheepishly.

"Pretty much, yeah," Anne interjected bluntly.

"If your publisher thinks it's repetitive, why not try a different genre? Romance, maybe?" the girl suggested.

Anne nearly choked. "And write tragedies like you? No."

"Not a bad idea actually—"

"Ah—what—?" Anne's face paled. "I'm an avid reader—must you guys torture me like this?"

Their banter faded into the background as Evan returned to his book. After finishing his chapter, he carefully placed a bookmark and stowed the novel in his bag. The café bell jingled softly as he exited, tucking a stray white strand behind his ear before turning toward the library.

Keys jingled in his hand as he unlocked the library's entrance. Another simple day, he mused.

The hours passed in familiar rhythm - adjusting shelves, checking out books, assisting the occasional patron. Before he knew it, the day had slipped away. He bid farewell to the staff and was locking up when his phone vibrated.

"Hello, how may I help you?" His professional tone gave nothing away.

"Lusalle, sir. Situation in Mordain District." The deep voice carried urgency.

A barely perceptible frown flickered across his face before vanishing. His voice turned icy. "Five." He'd be there in five minutes.

"Yes, sir." The line went dead.

Evan pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply before striding into a nearby alley. Away from prying eyes, he removed his tinted glasses, revealing piercing violet irises. His white hair, now slicked back, framed a suddenly sharper face. The transformation complete, he buttoned his crisp black vest over a fitted shirt and pulled on gloves before entering the back door of a bar in Haelios District bordering Mordain.

A hush fell as he entered. Vampires bowed their heads in deference. His assistant walked beside him by his elbow.

"Sir. The pill shipment was hijacked. Three Salvation Hunters eliminated some of our people." The assistant gestured to the bound prisoners - battered but still defiant, their eyes burning with hatred. Hypocrites, Evan thought coldly.

"Casualties?"

"Four tonight. Thirteen total, counting previous incidents."

The silence that followed was heavier than stone.

"What salvation comes from bloodshed?" Evan murmured, more to himself. His men shifted uneasily.

"The bodies have been retrieved. We'll hold the usual funeral arrangements, sir."

Evan's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Kill them. Blood for blood."

"Understood, sir." The assistant bowed before turning to carry out the order.

The first scream echoed as Evan walked away, his expression carefully blank. Another simple day, he thought bitterly.

The mask slipped back into place as he entered the main bar area - the 'Black Lotus', his legitimate front. He exchanged pleasantries with off-duty staff, poured drinks, and maintained the charade for hours before finally returning to his apartment.

Locking his apartment door behind him, he caught his reflection in the dark window. 'Simple,' he mouthed, watching his lips twist into a grimace. If only.

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