Later that evening, once Irisa had finished unpacking the few belongings she owned, dinner was served.

  The Minamoto dining table had always been small, just enough for two. Now it felt slightly tighter, as if the house itself was adjusting to the idea of a vampire sitting politely between soy sauce and miso soup.

  Akari sat directly across from Irisa and stared.

  Irisa held her chopsticks properly. Ate neatly. She didn’t hiss, didn’t growl, didn’t levitate. Still no visible sign of vampirism.

  “So,” Akari began, elbows pnted on the table despite her mother’s warning gre. “Do you sleep in a coffin?”

  “No.”

  “Do you hang upside down like a bat?”

  “No.”

  “Do you drink blood out of wine gsses while staring dramatically at the moon?”

  ...

  “No.”

  Irisa answered each question calmly, her voice even and smooth. But for some reason, her composure only made Akari more frustrated.

  Akari slumped back in her chair with a dramatic sigh. “You are an extremely disappointing vampire.”

  Irisa paused mid bite and looked up. “I apologize.”

  Aina coughed into her hand to hide a ugh.

  Akari leaned forward again, eyes sparkling with investigative intensity. “If you don’t melt in sunlight, don’t even sparkle, and don’t sleep in a coffin… then what exactly makes you a vampire?”

  Irisa considered the question seriously, setting down her chopsticks with careful grace.

  “I live longer than humans,” she expined calmly, her voice steady despite Akari’s intense stare. “My body recovers from injuries by consuming blood. I do require small amounts each day, but don’t worry, I don’t drink it directly from humans. Modern substitutes exist—”

  “Substitutes?!” Akari cut in immediately, eyes sparkling with dramatic realization. “Like strawberry juice?!”

  “No.”

  “Tomato juice?”

  “No.”

  Akari suddenly shot up in her seat, eyes wide with dramatic betrayal.

  Irisa smiled faintly, though her expression carried a hint of exhaustion.

  Aina smacked Akari lightly on the head. “You didn’t hear her? She said modern substitutes. She buys preserved blood packs.”

  Akari blinked. “Oh... I see...”

  She slowly sat back down. “So… How much do you need per day?”

  Irisa reached into the pocket of her jacket and pced a tiny sealed pouch on the table. It was no rger than a sauce packet. “Approximately five milliliters.”

  Akari leaned in close, inspecting it like a scientist discovering a new species. “That’s it?”

  “Yes.”

  Akari visibly rexed for a split second, then her shoulders tensed again.

  “Hypothetically,” she began slowly, pointing her chopsticks toward Irisa like a microphone, “if you bit someone’s neck and sucked their blood—just hypothetically—would they become a vampire too?”

  The room went silent.

  Irisa’s fingers stilled against her cup.

  Aina quietly reached for her tea.

  Irisa looked troubled, though not offended.

  “Maybe not,” she said carefully. “I have never bitten someone like that.”

  She lifted her gaze to meet Akari’s directly.

  “But, if it were that simple, I likely would not be the only vampire remaining.”

  Akari blinked.

  The answer settled heavily in the air.

  Aina gestured gently at her daughter. “Akari…”

  “I—I’m sorry,” Akari muttered, scratching her cheek. “I just saw that in movies and curious...”

  “It is fine,” Irisa replied softly. “I understand the concern. A supernatural being moving into your home is… unsettling.” Her tone was steady, mature, and strangely patient.

  Akari studied her quietly.

  Irisa didn’t look offended or angry. Just… tired.

  Aina smiled warmly. “Irisa, I really hope you enjoy living here and getting along with Akari.”

  Irisa gave a small nod. “Thank you for the hospitality.”

  Akari was still staring. “Sorry,” she said again. “But can I ask more things?”

  “Akari,” Aina warned.

  “It’s fine,” Irisa said.

  Akari immediately brightened. "How old are you?”

  Irisa paused. She genuinely had to think. “Maybe… Around one hundred and sixty years.”

  Akari choked on air. “ONE HUNDRED AND—?!”

  “It is still considered young for a vampire,” Irisa added calmly. “I lost track of my exact age after some time.”

  “You forgot your birthday?!” Akari gasped.

  “Yes.”

  “Wait! You have birthdays too?!”

  Silence fell again.

  Aina slowly lowered her forehead into her palm.

  Irisa nodded awkwardly. “Yes. I was born.”

  Akari stared at her as if that fact alone was revolutionary.

  Dinner continued in chaotic rhythm. Akari questioned, Aina mediated, and Irisa answered with supernatural patience.

  Every few minutes, Akari would lean forward suddenly and squint at Irisa’s mouth, as though expecting fangs to spring out mid sentence, but they never did.

  At one point, Irisa casually reached for the soy sauce, and Akari flinched so hard her chair squeaked.

  “I am not attacking the tofu,” Irisa said dryly.

  “Just checking,” Akari muttered.

  Despite herself, Irisa felt something unfamiliar stir beneath her calm exterior.

  It wasn’t irritation. It was… warmth. No one had ever spoken to her like this before. So openly. So loudly. So unfiltered. It was chaotic, but strangely alive.

  After dinner, Aina cleared the table and spoke casually, as if discussing the weather.

  “By the way, Irisa will be transferring to your school tomorrow, Akari.”

  The cup in Akari’s hand nearly slipped. “MY school?!”

  “Yes.”

  Akari slowly turned her head toward Irisa, eyes wide. “You’re going to Japanese high school?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is insane.”

  Irisa tilted her head slightly. “Is it?”