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MidReal Story
The Dark Blood Prince
Scenario:我是一个来自小镇的女孩菲亚，在平常上课的某一天望向窗外，发现了一个身形高瘦，面容俊朗的陌生面孔，我没有在意，却不知有这样的纠葛，我们灵魂互换了
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Fia Hudson
first_person_protagonist, female. She is a resident of the small town of Redfield, navigating life's challenges. She is curious, introspective, and vulnerable. While lost in thought during class, she encounters a mysterious stranger with an unsettling yet captivating presence. This encounter leaves her feeling both intrigued and uneasy. Despite her family's struggles following a house fire, she manages to find solace in her grandmother's care. Fia grapples with the mysterious connection she feels towards the stranger.
Ethan Kade
protagonist, male. He is the enigmatic stranger who appears in Fia's life unexpectedly. He is brooding, intense, and mysterious. Ethan is a visitor to Redfield, shrouded in an air of secrecy and danger. His piercing gaze unsettles Fia during their initial encounter, which leaves an indelible mark on her. Despite his aloof demeanor, there is an inexplicable pull between him and Fia, hinting at a deeper connection that defies explanation.
Grandma Eliza
side_character, female. She is Fia's caring grandmother who took her in after her family's house fire. She is nurturing, wise, and protective. Grandma Eliza provided Fia with a sense of safety and normalcy amidst chaos. Her home becomes Fia's refuge as she adjusts to her new life without her parents. Grandma Eliza's relationship with Fia is one of unconditional love and support, helping her through difficult emotions and daily struggles.
I was lost in my own little world when something caught my attention, and I turned towards the classroom window.
There was a tall, slender figure standing in the front of our school, near the entrance.
He was looking at something on the ground, and then he glanced towards our direction.
Our eyes met for a second or two, and I felt like the whole world had come to a standstill.
I couldn't see his face clearly because he was quite a distance from me, but I could tell that he had striking features.
He had jet black hair, which fell on his forehead, giving him a brooding look.
His eyes were dark, almost black, like two shiny coalstones.
His nose was perfect, not too big nor too small, and his lips were thin.
I rise from my desk, ignoring Mrs. Peterson's droning voice about algebraic equations.
My feet carry me three steps closer to the window, drawn by an inexplicable need to see more of this stranger.
The wooden floorboards creak beneath my shoes.
A few classmates turn their heads, but I barely notice them.
The mysterious boy still stands there, now leaning against the brick wall.
His posture is casual, yet something about him seems coiled, ready to spring.
The sunlight catches his face at a different angle, revealing a small scar above his right eyebrow.
My fingers press against the cool glass as I study his face, memorizing every detail.
The stranger's posture shifts slightly, his shoulders relaxing against the rough brick wall.
His dark eyes remain fixed on mine, neither of us willing to break the connection.
The classroom chatter fades to white noise around me.
Mr. Peterson's voice grows distant as he continues the lesson.
A gentle autumn breeze rustles the stranger's black hair, revealing more of the scar I noticed earlier.
His expression softens almost imperceptibly, the corner of his mouth beginning to curve upward.
"Do you see him too?" whispers Emily, her voice barely audible over the classroom murmur.
"Yeah," I reply, my eyes still locked on the stranger. "But why does he look so familiar?"
Emily leans closer, her breath warm against my ear. "That's because he's the one from the news—the missing boy."
My heart pounds in my chest as I continue staring at the spot where the boy stands.
The wind picks up, rustling through his dark hair.
His coal-black eyes remain locked with mine, unwavering.
Something shifts in the air between us—a crackling tension that makes the hair on my arms stand up.
Emily tugs at my sleeve, still whispering about the missing person's report, but her words barely register.
The boy's expression changes, his features tightening as if he's concentrating or in pain.
I press closer to the glass, watching intently.
He blinks once, slowly.
My fingers tremble against the cold glass.
The words Emily just spoke echo in my head, but they don't make sense.
The boy's intense stare hasn't wavered, not even for a moment.
The electric tension between us is almost unbearable.
My chest tightens with each breath.
The algebra equations on the board blur into meaningless scribbles while Mr. Peterson's voice becomes a distant hum in the background.
I need to know more about this stranger—why he's here, why he's staring at me, and why he disappeared.
Without breaking eye contact with him, I slowly raise my shaking hand into the air.
Mr. Peterson turns towards me, his brows furrowed in confusion.
"Miss Reed?" he says, his voice cutting through the silence.
My hand drops as I notice the stranger's subtle movement.
His long fingers extend toward the bottom of the window, directing my attention downward.
There, wedged in the narrow gap between the weathered wooden windowsill and the brick wall, is a cream-colored envelope.
My name "Fia Hudson" is written in elegant cursive across the front.
The paper looks aged, its edges slightly yellowed and worn.
I glance back at the stranger, but his expression remains unreadable.
My fingers inch toward the window latch, but Mr. Peterson's sharp voice cuts through the silence once more.
"Do you need to visit the nurse, Miss Hudson?"
My fingers tremble on the window latch.
The stranger's eyes never leave mine, urging me forward.
"Miss Hudson?" he repeats, his voice growing more insistent.
I take a deep breath and unlatch the window with a quick motion.
The cool autumn air rushes in, carrying the scent of damp leaves and distant rain.
Whispers ripple through the classroom as I lean out, stretching my arm toward the envelope.
The rough paper grazes my fingertips before I snatch it from the ledge.
I did not glance at Mr. Peterson or the bewildered classmates; instead, I shoved the envelope deep into my backpack.
My heart pounds against my ribs like a wild animal trying to escape its cage.
The boy nods once, a silent acknowledgment, before vanishing into the shadows.
During lunch break, I hide in the empty art room, my backpack on the table in front of me.
With shaking hands, I pull out the envelope.
The paper crinkles as I carefully break the wax seal.
Inside, I find a yellowed piece of parchment covered in intricate ink lines.
It's a map—a detailed illustration of the town's outskirts and the dense forest that lies beyond.
A red path winds its way through the woods, leading to an old mansion—the Blackwood place.
My finger traces the route, following it from Miller's Creek, where it passes beneath an old wooden bridge, to where it disappears into the heart of the forest.
There, in the corner of the map, is a small note written in the same elegant script as my name: "Tonight at midnight."
I jump at the sound of footsteps, and Emily's voice breaks the silence.
"Fia, what are you doing in here?" she asks, her eyes narrowing as they land on the map.
"Emily, I think I have to go to the Blackwood place tonight," I whisper, my voice barely steady.