The words “little slave” were like a trigger for a long-buried fragment of memory, instantly dragging Tulia’s consciousness back to Northport, half a century ago.
Back then, she and Ella, whom she had just met, were being hunted down for stealing from the Northport Slave Traders Guild. She told Ella to run ahead with the money, while she herself was caught by the guild.
Tulia closed her eyes in pain. In her mind, that scene began to play before her like a reel of film—
“Clatter…”
“Clatter, clatter, clatter……”
Hmm?
Where am I?
What’s that strange sound?
Before her was a dark and damp space, the air heavy with the stench of mildew and rust.
The ceiling glistened with dripping water, and the dim light cast faint dots, barely enough to make out her surroundings.
She reached up to touch her forehead, and the instant her fingertip made contact, it stung.
Shards of memory flickered in her mind—running, shouting, flashes of blood, tearing… It was like an old, broken film playing back.
She looked down at herself—surprisingly clean, and carrying a faint floral scent. That fragrance made her feel dazed, reminiscent of a distant dream.
Just as she tried to push herself up, she crashed hard into the solid ceiling above. Pain exploded in her head and darkness swallowed her vision once more.
When she next woke, she realized she was locked inside a cage.
Outside the iron bars was a bare, shabby room: a sagging iron bed, a broken stool, and a wooden table on the verge of collapse.
On the table sat several chipped wooden bowls, filled with some sour and spoiled paste. Flies buzzed around the rim, their sound grating on her nerves.
There were a few damaged bowls atop the table, containing foul-smelling mush, clearly gone bad—Tulia could hear the vexing drone of the flies.
“Clang—”
The sharp clang of metal suddenly rang out.
???
Where did that come from?
She jerked her head up, looking around in confusion.
Only then did she notice that her limbs were wrapped in black iron chains, a heavy iron collar clamped around her neck—so heavy she could barely breathe.
“Ah… Of course.” She murmured, lips quivering. “So this is how it ends…”
Time seemed to stretch out; the air curdled into a reeking silence. Darkness washed over the room again and again, perhaps an entire day had passed.
No one came, no sound but the hunger gnawing slowly at her mind.
Racked by hunger, she reached out, trying to hook one of the spoiled bowls from the table.
“Clatter, clatter…”
“Clatter…”
The sound of chains striking echoed through the silence, mocking her futility. Her hand hovered midair, then fell weakly.
“Creak—”
The sound of an iron door opening was especially jarring in the deathly silence.
Tulia’s heart tightened, and she instinctively shrank back into the corner. But her back was already pressed against the cold bars—nowhere left to run.
A tall man stepped through the door, his muscular frame nearly filling the doorway. Behind him followed a slender woman.
The dim light made it impossible for Tulia to see the woman’s face, but she could feel an innate pressure emanating from her, along with a sense of nobility.
The woman stood silently in the doorway, her gaze landing on Tulia.
“……”
Well, since I’m going to die anyway, at least let me die knowing why.
“Who are you? What do you… want to do to me?”
Sophia paused when she heard Tulia’s question, then a faint, cold smile curled at the corner of her mouth.
The room was already dank and gloomy, but Sophia’s smile only deepened the chill.
With that dangerous smile, she strode briskly over to Tulia.
Eh?
An icy hand seized Tulia’s ankle, and in the next instant, Sophia dragged her bodily out of the cage.
Why doesn’t this woman say anything!
Sophia drew close to Tulia, stood by her side, and slowly crouched down, her chilling gaze sweeping over Tulia’s body and face, eyes gleaming with some unfathomable light.
What does she want? Ah—!
It hurts, it hurts!
A cascade of silver hair was caught in Sophia’s hand and yanked up hard. She parted her lips and pressed them against Tulia’s tender lips.
In the darkness, Sophia’s hand slipped inside the shimmering white silk gown, the shoulder strap sliding off Tulia’s body.
What’s wrong with this woman? Her…? Why is she so strong?
Stop it! Stop it! Please stop!
Warm tears slid from the corner of Tulia’s eyes, soaking her hair and blurring her vision.
Tulia struggled desperately, but Sophia’s grip was like iron pincers, locking her down completely, leaving her utterly unable to resist.
Sophia rose, lifting her hand to gently wipe her crimson lips from left to right with her thumb, a faint curve appearing at the corner.
Her movements seemed to both wipe away lingering breath and savor the aftertaste.
“She’ll do. Take her.”
Remembering this, Tulia bit her lower lip hard, lowering her head even more. A lock of silver hair slid down, masking the grievance on her face.
But her shoulders started to tremble uncontrollably; she was desperately fighting not to cry.
She had become an inhuman Vampire, possessing great power, and yet she was still just a plaything in someone else’s hands.
Sophia’s smile finally froze on her face.
She looked at Tulia’s trembling form, and only then did she realize—deep inside, she’d always told herself to be gentle, to make it up to Tulia.
But the brutality and urge to control in her blood from Von Nolstein always burst out in spite of herself.
Her father had nearly destroyed their whole clan with that cruelty. She herself, in the same way, had ruined Lilian, and even Tulia had nearly died by her hands.
She suddenly stretched out her right hand, digging her nails deep into her left arm, using pain to suppress the violence surging from the depths of her blood, that sickened and terrified her.
“Hiss—” She drew in a sharp breath, but her face stayed calm, all guilt and remorse locked away inside, refusing to let Tulia see her weakness.
“I lost control just now.” Her voice was low, laced with barely detectable regret.
“What do you want, Tulia? I was wrong just now—I hope I can… make it up to you.”
Tulia slowly raised her head. The tear-stained eyes no longer held the breakdown from earlier, but a weariness and hardness instead.
“I don’t want compensation.” Her voice was hoarse, each word forced out like sand over rough stone.
She reached out, her fingertip lightly pressing to Sophia’s lips.
“When we go out, you’ll apologize to me in front of Lisbeth.”
Her request was calm and direct, without the slightest embellishment or emotion.
Then Tulia withdrew her hand, her gaze drifting past Sophia to the distance.
“I want to go back to Northport.”
Sophia’s brow furrowed sharply. She was about to object, but Tulia’s next words cut her off.
“I want to go to the Beigang Cathedral.”
She gave no further explanation, just stared at Sophia, waiting for her response.
Sophia’s pupils contracted.
Beigang Cathedral… That place held a special and complicated meaning for Tulia.
She could guess Tulia’s purpose for this trip—resistance and unease filled her heart.
She didn’t want to agree.
Northport carried too much of their shadowed past. She instinctively wanted to keep Tulia within this relatively “safe” boundary, far from anything that might awaken those painful memories.
But… the words were out.
That remorseful “make it up to you” was still hanging in the air. She couldn’t take it back now.
“…Alright.” Sophia heard her own voice, dry and strained, suppressing the unwillingness in her heart. “I promise you. I’ll apologize.”
Tulia gazed at her quietly, eyes filled only with weary calm.
“Lisbeth, I know I’ve done many things I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.” Sophia’s voice was level. Though there was no sincerity at all, she had to go through with the act.
Lisbeth still didn’t answer, her gaze complex as she looked at Sophia.
“Lisbeth, you need to go to school as usual these days, listen to your teacher, alright? I have some things I must take care of in Northport.”
Lisbeth looked at Tulia, a trace of doubt in her eyes, but she didn’t press the question.
She understood Tulia had her own plans—perhaps things she didn’t fully comprehend yet.
“Be careful,” Lisbeth reminded. Though she always seemed cold and distant at school, in front of Tulia she could never suppress her worry.
Tulia smiled gently, stroking Lisbeth’s hair: “Don’t worry. Mom will handle everything. You too—study hard, wait for me to come back.”
With that, she turned to pack a few simple belongings, ready to set out once more on the road to Northport.