CH 67 - Between Bread and Dusk

CH 67 - Between Bread and Dusk

The little building not far from Elara’s campus was slowly being swallowed by the shadows of the evening. From the outside, it looked like a warm, peaceful little oasis. Large windows framed by thin lace curtains offered a glimpse inside, where the soft yellow glow of lights danced across the glass display filled with all kinds of bread and pastries. A small bell chimed every time the door opened, marking the arrival of hurried customers.
Evelyn’s bakery was busier than usual today. The air was thick with the smell of burnt caramel, melted butter, and cinnamon, rising from old ovens that never seemed to rest. It was four in the afternoon. The sun still hung in the sky, but its light felt anxious, as if it too sensed that darkness was closing in. People came and went with quick, worried steps, their faces tight with unease. Ever since the government enforced the new curfew—no one allowed out after eight, everyone moved like they were racing a ticking clock.
The shelves were lined with berry-glazed tarts, golden croissants fresh from the oven, and dainty cakes that looked almost too pretty to eat. But no one really took the time to enjoy any of it. Their eyes kept darting to the wall clock, then to the door, as if expecting something terrible to burst in through the glass at any moment.
The scent of sweetness filled the air, baked butter, melting chocolate, warm spices. But today, the smell of fear was stronger than anything else.
An older man in a thick coat, eyes squinting with concern, glanced toward Evelyn as she sliced a cheesecake behind the counter.
“What time are you closing today?” he asked, his voice quick, uneasy.
Evelyn, dressed in a soft pink apron with her silver hair tied neatly back, didn’t seem bothered by the question. She was pouring hot chocolate into paper cups with practiced hands and replied without looking up, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Same as always. Around ten.”
A few heads turned at that. A young mother holding her baby asked, her voice tight, “Aren’t you scared? The news says people are getting sick after dark… mostly between nine and midnight. No one knows why.”
For a moment, the bakery fell silent. The only sounds were a spoon clinking against a cup and the low murmur of the news coming from a small TV mounted in the corner. The screen showed a live broadcast from the city hospital, the reporter speaking in an urgent tone about a strange illness spreading quickly.
A teenager sitting by the window chimed in, “They say it’s not a normal sickness. No wounds, no signs. Just… weakness, pale skin, like they’ve lost blood or energy. It’s weird.”
Evelyn wiped her hands on a cloth and slowly turned to face them. For a second, her gaze was colder than usual. Then she let out a soft laugh.
“How typical,” she said. “People always look to the impossible when they can’t explain something.” She leaned back against the counter. “When a village fell to illness, they blamed witches. Now… who do they blame?”
Her smile widened, as if she found the absurdity of it all amusing. But behind that smile, there was something else—something quiet and unsettling. A calm that didn’t come from lack of fear, but from knowing something no one else did.
“So… you’re not afraid?” the old man asked again, his brows furrowed. “What if this really is an attack…”
Evelyn cut him off, her voice soft but firm.
“If this is an attack, then I’d say I’m in the safest place possible.” She dipped her head slightly, pulled out a tray of pies, and slid it onto the shelf. “Besides… I’m not stepping outside. I’m not breaking any rules. The government only banned people from roaming around after dark, didn’t they?”
Some of the customers exchanged glances. The silence that followed felt like a thin, invisible mist, unsettling, though no one could explain why. The news played quietly in the background, reporting the latest statistics. The numbers were climbing, fast and none of it made sense. No clear medical explanation, no patterns.
Then someone whispered, maybe a bit too loudly, “I heard people say… it’s vampires. Old creatures returning after being gone for ages.”
Evelyn looked up slowly, her expression calm. Her smile spread across her face warm, but just a little too calm.
“Oh?” she said, still smiling. “Vampires?” She raised an eyebrow, let out a small laugh, and leaned back against the counter. “Really? People still believe in bedtime stories like that?” Her voice was playful, almost mocking like someone who’d heard that theory a thousand times and still found it amusing.
What none of them knew was that beneath her flawless pale skin, Evelyn had no pulse. Her breath was nothing more than mimicry. And she’d been alive longer than every soul in that room combined.
“It’s not a bedtime story if people are actually dying,” the teen muttered again, this time quieter.
Evelyn looked at them one by one. Her eyes, usually soft and comforting like warm milk on a cold night, had taken on a sharpness today. A calm that felt… unnatural.
“If vampires really do exist,” she said at last, her voice low, like sharing a secret, “I doubt they’d be foolish enough to get caught. Creatures that old… they’ve learned how to adapt.”
“So… you believe?” the young mother asked in a whisper, her eyes wide.
Evelyn chuckled softly, though something bitter clung to the end of it.
“I believe in a lot of things,” she said. “But more than that, I believe humans tend to create monsters when they can’t accept how cruel the world already is… even without mythical creatures.”
The lights flickered. Just for a second. The customers looked at each other, anxiety rising. Evelyn? She didn’t flinch. She simply stood there and said sweetly:
“Relax. Blackouts like that… just part of an old system wearing out, right?”
As the customers rushed to pay and leave before the sun dipped too far below the horizon, Evelyn remained behind the counter, alone. Her hand gently touched the side of her neck, and she whispered—not to anyone in particular:
“You still call us legends… as if we ever really left.”
When the door closed behind the last customer and the bell fell silent, Evelyn’s expression shifted. The warm smile faded, replaced by a cold stillness. She stared at the door for a moment, then turned and began tidying up the half-empty trays.
She murmured, barely audible, “Humans… the most foolish creatures ever made. Their fear ages like wine the longer it ferments, the more intoxicating it becomes.”
She walked to the back room, unfastened her apron, and opened a hidden drawer beneath the wooden counter. Inside weren’t cash or documents but rows of small glass bottles filled with a deep red, nearly black liquid. She picked one up, holding it to the light.
“Once I get that pureblood,” she whispered, “they’ll all kneel. The world will go back to how it was. Vampires will rule again. And humans… they won’t even know who their master is.”