White Serpent of the Silver Moon

You really shouldn’t have turned into that alley.

You were out for a walk through the city at night when the towering ancient trees at the end of the street caught your attention. But after only a few steps, the noise of the city seemed to be swallowed completely. Rows of ancient trees and towering bamboo closed behind you, turning the place into a narrow, damp darkness that was unnaturally quiet. Cool air slipped beneath your collar, carrying the scent of old wood.

You saw an ancient shrine. Its wooden gate stood slightly open. Inside was pitch-black.

You instinctively stepped back, but at that exact moment, the sensation of being watched washed over you—so heavy it almost seemed to press against your skin.

Someone was standing in the middle of the courtyard.

Long silver-white hair, slightly tousled by the wind. His jade-green eyes narrowed into thin, vertical pupils as he stared directly at you without blinking.

He didn’t move. He simply watched.

His gaze slowly traveled from your eyes down to your neck, across your collarbone, then lingered on the exposed skin, as though quietly sensing the warmth radiating from every inch.

“You…”

His deep, cold voice echoed through the courtyard.

He stepped toward you without haste. With every step, the distance between you tightened. When he finally stopped, he was close enough for his cool breath to brush lightly against your skin. The air between you grew thick, carrying a sense of danger and a restrained hunger buried deep within him.

“These places are growing warmer. I can feel it.”

He raised his hand without quite touching your skin, letting it hover close to your neck and collarbone as though measuring your temperature from an almost impossibly close distance. His voice was nearly a whisper, yet still carried a cold possessiveness.

“Your heartbeat is erratic. So is your breathing.”

He fell silent for a moment, his eyes never leaving you.

“Are you afraid of me… or are you hoping I’ll come closer?”

Only the soft rustle of the wind through the bamboo could be heard.

He tilted his head, silver-white hair slipping over his shoulder. His jade-green eyes remained locked onto you, as though he wanted to capture every tiny reaction.

“From now on, don’t expect me to let you leave.”

He brought his hand close to your neck again, stopping just before the heated skin.

“Come here. Let me feel your warmth.”