A Different Reflection

After the salon attendant finished, she called Eric back inside.

The moment he saw me, he froze.

His jaw dropped, his lips parting slightly as his eyes widened in disbelief.

“What?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious. “What is it?”

“Uh—uh…”

“What?” I pressed, growing more curious by the second.

He drew in a sharp breath, almost as though he had just seen a ghost. My heart sank. Did my fangs come out? Panic fluttered through me as I glanced down at the clothes I was wearing. The pink fabric looked almost ridiculously innocent—like something one of those schoolgirls would wear. I had never owned anything like it before, not even when I was a child.

Eric finally turned toward the attendant. “Didn't you give her a mirror? Didn't you let her see herself?”

The attendant shook her head. “She said she didn't want to look in the mirror.”

I straightened my shoulders and met Eric's gaze head-on. “I didn't want to,” I said quietly. “I have my reasons.”

I couldn't bring myself to look at the person I had seen in that mirror yesterday. She had frightened me. I could still remember how terrifying I had looked, how the scent of blood seemed to cling to my skin no matter how hard I tried to ignore it. The blood of all those people I had drained. The lives I had taken simply because I was hungry. And if it hadn't been for Eric, everyone in that salon could have become my next meal.

I was still starving.

My stomach suddenly growled, loud enough to make my cheeks burn. I was almost certain everyone had heard it. Eric said nothing. He simply reached into his pocket, handed the attendant some money, and walked out.

I followed him. But all the way down the road, I could feel his eyes on me. Every few moments, he glanced in my direction, and each time, I became more uncomfortable.

Finally, he spoke. “You know, Aliya… I wasn't joking yesterday when I called you beautiful.”

I looked at him.

He smiled faintly. “Seeing you now…” His gaze lingered on me. “You're even more gorgeous than I imagined.”

My heart skipped. No one had ever said anything like that to me. Not once. I didn't know what to do with the strange warmth spreading through my chest, so I said nothing. I simply walked beside him while he carried most of the conversation.

Before I knew it, daylight had faded into dusk. Eventually, Eric and I went our separate ways.

I started toward home, but the hunger inside me was becoming unbearable. Then I saw them. Humans.

For a moment, the monster inside me stirred. My instincts screamed at me to attack. To sink my fangs into their flesh and drink until the hunger disappeared. But I couldn't.

Instead, I turned toward the woods. There, I found a deer.

I attacked it, but instead of sinking my fangs into its neck and draining it dry, I raked my claws across its throat. Blood spilled. The scent hit me instantly.

My knees buckled. I dropped to the ground, trembling as the sweet, intoxicating smell filled my senses. Every part of me screamed to drink. Just one taste. Just one drop.

I clenched my fists and fought against the urge. “No…”

I couldn't do it. I didn't want to become that creature again. I didn't want to walk home with blood staining my face, reminding me of the monster I was desperately trying to bury. I wanted to get home. I wanted to look in the mirror. I needed to know what Eric had seen when he looked at me.

When I returned home, I found a crowd of my people gathered outside, their faces filled with curiosity and unease, as though they had witnessed something they could not explain. Without a word, I dropped the deer at their feet.

Silence fell. I saw the way they looked at me—not with the familiarity they once had, but with a strange mixture of fear and disbelief. Their eyes followed me like I was a stranger walking among them. Whispers spread through the crowd, some loud enough for me to catch, others buried beneath their breath.

I ignored them and walked forward.

Only then did I notice the girl beside me. She was dressed like one of those schoolgirls—her face covered with the kind of makeup they wore, her hair perfectly straightened. It was strange. Somehow, I had never noticed her before, yet now she stood there, impossible to ignore.

"Come with me," I commanded her, with a condescending tone. My voice left no room for hesitation.

I continued toward my room, and after a moment of fear-filled silence, the girl followed behind me, trembling with every step.

"What should we do with the deer, ma'am?" one of my people called out.

"Cook it," I replied without turning around. "Bring some for me. There should be more than enough for everyone here."

I entered my room, the girl following me inside. She stopped by the door, frozen. Her entire body shook. Fear filled her eyes, raw and undeniable. She looked at me as though I was something she had every reason to fear.

The moment I stepped toward her, she collapsed to her knees. Tears streamed down her face as she clasped her hands together, moving them desperately, begging for mercy.

I rested my hand against the door, my eyes locked onto hers. Then, slowly, I pushed it shut. The sound echoed through the room. I locked it.

"What have you done wrong?" I asked, stepping away from her.

"Ma'am?" Her voice was barely a whisper—soft, fragile, almost innocent.

"Why are you pleading like you have committed a crime? Why are you trembling as though your life depends on it?"

Her lips parted, but no words came.

"Uhm... uh... I..." she stammered. Her tears fell faster. "I don't want to die," she finally whispered. "I only... I only muttered that you looked different."

“Is that a bad thing?” I turned to her.

“No!” she replied immediately, almost shouting. “No, it’s not. I’m sorry I yelled.” Her voice softened as she rose from her knees and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

I walked toward her again. “How do I look then?”

“Gorgeous,” she answered without hesitation.

That word. I remembered it. Those were the exact words Eric had used.

“Your hair is different. Your skin is glowing, and it’s free of blood. Your makeup is perfect—”

“That’s enough!” I cut her off, folding my hands together. After a brief hesitation, I asked, “Do you have a mirror? I’d like to see how I look.”

She stared at me for a moment, as if trying to decide whether she should answer. Then she nodded. "Yes, I have one. I'll go get it."

It didn't take long before Samantha returned, the mirror trembling slightly in her hands as she held it out to me.

I hesitated. For reasons I couldn't explain, I was afraid to look. But eventually, I took the mirror.

The moment my reflection stared back at me, my mouth fell open in shock.

“I—I look different,” I whispered, my voice rising as I stared at myself. “Different from yesterday.”

I turned toward the girl, and for the first time, a genuine smile spread across my face.

“And you look even more beautiful when you smile, Empress Aliya. You should do it more often.” Her expression softened.

“What is your name?” I asked.

“Samantha, Empress. My name is Samantha.”

I studied her face for a moment, a strange feeling stirring within me. “Were you among the people who came to me for refuge a century ago?”

“My parents were,” Samantha replied quietly. “I was very little then.”

“Where are your parents now?” I demanded, my voice suddenly echoing through the room.

Samantha lowered her gaze. “Dead... Ma’am.”

The word struck me harder than I expected. I froze. My heart began to pound.

“What happened to them?” I asked, my voice trembling with something dangerously close to fear. “I want the truth.”

Samantha looked at me. And there it was again. That look. Fear. Raw, unmistakable fear. She looked as though she already knew that whatever she said next would change something between us. For a brief moment, I wondered if I truly wanted to hear it.

Then I straightened. “Tell me.”

Samantha swallowed hard. “You fed on them.”

Silence. The words hung in the air like a death sentence.

Something inside me twisted painfully. Guilt clawed at my chest, but I refused to let it reach my face. I was still their leader. I couldn't afford to look weak.

“Then they must have done something wrong,” I said coldly. I leaned back against the bed as though her words meant nothing.

But they did. They meant everything.

I lowered the mirror beside me and released a long, heavy sigh. Then I looked at Samantha again.

“I've noticed the way you dress,” I said. “And I like it. I want you to dress me like that every day until I'm capable of doing it myself.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Samantha stared at me, clearly unsure whether I was serious.

“If you agree,” I continued, leaning closer, “I promise I will never feed on you.”

Her eyes widened. It was a strange bargain, perhaps even a frightening one, but I meant every word.

Samantha hesitated before speaking. “If I may ask, Ma'am... do you have plans to go outside?”

“Not just me.” I smiled faintly. “Everyone is going.”

Her confusion deepened.

“We're enrolling in a school downtown.” I watched her carefully. “And Samantha, I need you to spread the word.”

The room fell silent.