Consciousness slipped away from me like water through cupped hands. When it returned, my body screamed in protest—every muscle ached, every nerve burned. The darkness surrounding me felt absolute, suffocating, until a woman's gentle voice cut through the haze. "Rest now. You'll feel better tomorrow." A man's response followed, sharp and urgent: "What the hell have you done? We're in serious trouble now." Then nothing. Oblivion claimed me again. The second awakening brought clarity and confusion in equal measure. My vision remained foggy, but my other senses had sharpened dramatically—smells I'd never noticed before now overwhelmed me, sounds crystallized into perfect definition. Something had changed. Something fundamental. Beyond the locked door, voices carried clearly to my ears. A woman—Mei—spoke in desperate hushed tones: "You can't tell anyone. The heat just... it was stronger this time. I couldn't control it. He was too intoxicating, and I felt myself slipping away." Her words tangled with my fractured memories of the previous night: the flash of fangs, shadows moving impossibly fast, eyes blazing blue and then burning red against the darkness. I wasn't losing my mind. The images were real. But the question that clawed at me was far more terrifying: what exactly was Mei? And what had she done to me?