The 10th

ㅤ The mansion awakened as the moon rose over the marble peaks. A thousand candles flickered within the obsidian halls, their light trembling against portraits of long-dead ancestors whose eyes seemed to breathe. Outside, a choir of crows circled above the black forest, calling forth the ancient rite that only the Geldart bloodline could hear.

ㅤ  “Bring the chalices,” murmured Mama, the matriarch, her crimson gown sweeping across the marble floor like flowing blood. Her voice was both tender and cold, the kind that silenced even storms. The family began to gather under the grand chandelier—twenty-one figures moving as shadows carved by moonlight.

ㅤ  Juyeon and San, the uncles, argued softly near the staircase, their whispers laced with old grudges. “Still drinking mortal blood, brother?” Juyeon smirked. San’s smile was slow and dangerous. “Only from the ones who remind me of you.”

ㅤ  In the east corridor, Jeno leaned against a pillar, watching Heyi light the ancestral incense. The scent of burning myrrh filled the air. “Don’t look too long,” Heyi said without turning. “They say the ancestors look back if your stare lingers.” Jeno chuckled under his breath. “Then let them. Maybe they’ll remember who I am.”

ㅤ  Meanwhile, Jeongseong and Xinyu prepared the altar of black roses and silver dust. Hina and Sungho whispered prayers in the ancient tongue, their hands steady though their eyes glowed faintly with the moon’s reflection.

ㅤ  From the shadows, Rei watched them all, a faint smile curling on her lips. “A perfect picture of devotion,” she muttered, “if only they still believed in redemption.”

ㅤ  At the lower level, the younger ones—Wonyoung, Yeju, HeQiu, Hanzhen, Jiwoo —chased each other through the corridor, their laughter sharp as crystal. Their fangs flashed like moonlight on water. “Mama said no running!” cried Jiwoo, but she was already laughing, too drunk on the moon’s pull to care.

ㅤ  Then, as the silver bell tolled midnight, the air thickened. The ancestral door—a slab of bone-white stone at the heart of the hall—began to hum with a low, ancient sound. Mama raised her hand. Silence fell instantly.

ㅤ  “Tonight,” she said, her voice echoing through their immortal veins, “we honor the ones who gave us eternity. Their slumber ends, and through us, they breathe again.”

ㅤ  A pale mist rose from the floor, curling like living smoke. The portraits on the walls trembled—smiling. Whispers of long-dead ancestors filled the hall. The Geldarts bowed their heads.

ㅤ  The full moon entered the dome window above. Silver light poured down like divine blood. And one by one, the family began to chant.

ㅤ  The ritual began with the eldest circle. Jeno, Heyi, Jeongseong, Xinyu, Hina and Sungho clasped hands around the silver basin filled with dark wine. It shimmered faintly, pulsing with something alive. From the shadows, Rei and Heqiu began the offering chant. “The moon remembers. The blood remembers. The night remembers us all.”

ㅤ  As the words echoed, Dahyun and Martin carried the twin blades—relics of their ancestors—while Yujin, Shengxi, and Seonghyeon opened their wrists above the basin, letting drops of crimson fall into it. The wine turned molten red, glowing like a living heart.

ㅤ ㅤ Geonho and Leean, the youngest, trembled as they watched. “Will they come out again?” Leean whispered. “They never leave,” Geonho murmured. “They just... wait.”

ㅤ  A sudden gust swept the hall. The candles went out, all at once. Only the moon remained, casting its ghostly light upon their pale faces. The air smelled of earth and ashes—like graves opening.

ㅤ  San laughed softly. “They’re awake.” From the mist, silhouettes emerged—spectral forms of those who had ruled before them. They stood tall, regal, beautiful and terrifying. Mama bowed deeply. “Welcome, my lords and ladies of the night. Your blood endures.”

ㅤ  The spirits’ whispers wrapped around the family, touching their minds, their hearts, their hunger. Some wept, some trembled, and some—like Juyeon and Heyi—smiled, feeding on the thrill of power. The ancestors’ essence flowed into them, renewing the curse that was their crown. Then, as the clock struck the thirteenth chime, Hina stepped forward. “Mama,” she whispered, “the moon... it bleeds.”

ㅤ  And it did. A red ring spread across its silver face, flooding the hall with scarlet light. The blood in the basin boiled. The ancestors screamed—not in agony, but in triumph.

ㅤ  Every vampire in the hall felt it—the surge of old blood, the awakening of their immortal lineage. Their eyes burned crimson; their hearts pounded once, and then went silent again. When it was over, silence fell like snow.

ㅤ  Mama looked around her—at her children, her brothers, her kin—and smiled faintly. “The cycle is complete,” she said. “And so we endure another moon.” The family bowed together as one, bathed in the fading red glow. Outside, the crows scattered across the forest, and the moon slowly turned white again.

ㅤ  In the mansion’s endless dark, the Geldart family feasted—laughing, arguing, dancing, and toasting with crimson chalices. They were monsters, yes—but they were home.

ㅤ And as the night stretched on, all of the eternal souls moved under the same silver moon, their shadows twisting like roots beneath the earth—forever bound by blood, by love, and by the curse that kept them alive.

ㅤ  The moon had turned pale again, hanging lazily above the mansion like a candle about to burn out. The ritual was over. The air that once carried whispers of the dead now smelled faintly of roasted lamb and… someone’s spilled wine. The Geldart family, for the first time that night, exhaled.

ㅤ “Right,” said Juyeon, clapping his hands once. “That’s enough resurrection for one night. Who’s hungry?”

ㅤ  “You’re always hungry,” San replied, pouring himself another glass of bloodwine. “Didn’t you just drink from the basin five minutes ago?”

ㅤ “That was ceremonial blood,” Juyeon said, dead serious. “This is dinner blood. Entirely different vintage.” From across the hall, Heyi snorted. “You talk about blood like a sommelier.” — “Because I am one,” Juyeon said, flipping his hair dramatically. “My tongue can detect at least twelve mortal regrets in one sip.”

ㅤ The younger ones laughed. Hanzhen nearly fell off his chair, clutching his stomach. Wonyoung covered her mouth to hide her fangs, while Jiwoo quietly used the confusion to sneak extra pastries off the serving tray.

ㅤ Mama sat at the head of the table, watching her immortal offspring descend into something that resembled a dinner party from hell. “Children,” she said softly, “remember, our ancestors are still listening.”

ㅤ “Then they’re probably laughing too,” muttered Rei, sipping lazily from her goblet. The long table stretched across the dining hall like a river of crimson silk. Hina and Sungho tried to keep the middle siblings—Heqiu, Wonyoung, Yeju, Hanzhen, and Jiwoo—from throwing grapes at each other using telekinesis, but it was a losing battle. Hanzhen floated a grape into Wonyoung’s glass, splashing her dress. “Oops,” he said innocently. “Oops your neck,” Wonyoung hissed, fangs out.

ㅤ  Meanwhile, the youngest group—Yujin, Shengxi, Dahyun, Edwards, Seonghyeon, Geonho, and Leean—sat at the far end, whispering furiously. “I swear,” Yujin said, “I saw Grandfather’s ghost wink at me.” — “That’s impossible,” Leean whispered. “He’s blind in both eyes.” — “Exactly,” Yujin said gravely. “That’s what makes it worse.”

ㅤ  Martin nearly spat out his drink. “You two need therapy.” — “We’ve been alive for centuries,” said Seonghyeon, “therapy doesn’t cover that long.” A sudden clatter echoed as Dahyun stood up. Her wine glass shattered in her grip, crimson dripping down her fingers. The room froze. Then Dahyun sighed. “Sorry. I thought that was apple juice.”

ㅤ There was a full second of silence before Jeno burst out laughing so hard that even Mama's lips twitched into a smile. “Apple juice,” San said in disbelief, “in this house?” — “Yeah,” said Jeongseong, leaning back smugly. “The last apple that entered this mansion turned into cider two centuries ago.”

ㅤ As laughter rippled through the hall, HeQiu raised her glass. “To our ancestors—may they forgive our stupidity.” — “Or join it,” Heyi added, clinking his glass with hers.

ㅤ Outside, thunder rolled faintly over the black forest. Inside, the Geldart family roared with laughter, the sound echoing through the marble halls like a strange hymn of immortality.

ㅤ When the laughter died down, Mama looked at them all—their pale faces glowing under candlelight, their eyes full of mischief and eternity—and said softly, “You’re all insufferable.”

ㅤ “Love you too, Mama,” Sungho said, bowing dramatically. “You may live forever,” she warned, “but keep that attitude and you’ll still die first.” That sent the entire table into laughter again.

ㅤ And just like that—the mighty, dreadful, aristocratic vampire clan of twenty-two returned to being what they always were beneath the immortal façade: a ridiculous, chaotic, unkillable family.

ㅤ  Outside, the moon drifted higher, indifferent and bright. Inside, the family feasted and argued until dawn, their laughter rising like music through the night— a harmony of blood and love that not even eternity could silence.

ㅤ  ㅤ  ㅤ  ㅤ  ㅤ  the end.