“In fact… after waking, Miss Sylvie hurried straight to the Eastern District without stopping.”
Klal’s smile froze instantly on her face.
What did he mean by hurrying straight to the Eastern District?
Her crimson eyes narrowed slightly, her pale fingertips tapping the throne with growing impatience.
The air in the grand hall seemed to solidify in an instant, even the flickering candle flames pausing for a moment.
That blood servant who should have been kneeling before her, begging for forgiveness…
That girl who ought to be terrified and uneasy over her unauthorized feeding…
The first thing she did upon waking was not think of her master?
Was there truly something more honorable, more important than serving the noble Vampire Queen?
“Eastern District…” she repeated softly, her calm voice laced with deep displeasure.
“What is she doing there?”
“Miss Sylvie… is likely going to care for those young human blood livestock too weak to properly provide blood.”
Sulga replied cautiously, bowing his head even lower. He could clearly sense the Queen’s aura dropping several degrees—she was furious.
And possibly even more furious than when she learned another had fed on her blood livestock!
Because if it were an overstep of feeding another vampire, it could have been forced—after all, with her frail body, any vampire could overpower her.
But this was different.
This was Sylvie’s own choice. In a clear state of mind, she had actively chosen to place those lowly humans above her master.
In other words, in Sylvie’s heart, those blood livestock—visible everywhere in Eternal Night City—were more important than her master, the Vampire Queen herself.
For the proud Klal, this was utterly unacceptable.
Especially since Sylvie was a toy she particularly “favored,” a rare source of amusement in this lifeless, boring penned district.
That silver-haired girl’s blood was exceptionally sweet. The restrained fear and obedience in those gray eyes brought her immense pleasure.
More importantly—Sylvie was hers.
“Heh…” Klal suddenly let out a light laugh, though no mirth reached her eyes.
“How very ‘kindhearted.’ To keep those lowly blood livestock from starving, she can even cast her own master aside.”
Tap… tap… tap…
The force of her fingers striking the armrest grew heavier, echoing through the empty hall.
Her voice gradually sank lower.
“And yet I… have been ‘starving’ for just as long.”
A flicker of displeasure passed through her crimson eyes as Sylvie’s perpetually calm face surfaced in her mind.
At some point, that black-haired girl had learned to perfectly conceal all emotions behind that exquisite mask.
Even when Klal occasionally caught fleeting glimpses of endurance and pain deep in those gray eyes, Sylvie had never truly lost composure in her presence.
Whether trembling as fangs pierced her neck, gasping through punishment, or the fear flashing in her eyes on the brink of despair—all these emotions were carefully controlled within certain bounds.
She was like a beautiful work of art: lovely and fragile, yet infuriatingly intact.
She was obedient, docile—like a fully tamed young beast, maintaining near-absolute loyalty to her master at all times.
But that obedience and loyalty carried “indifference” and “distance.”
And Klal craved more…
She wanted to see that mask completely shatter!
She wanted to see Sylvie utterly lose control before her!
She wanted to hear her helpless cries! Watch her desperate struggles! Feel the trembling from her very soul!
This desire had nearly become an obsession! In this utterly boring Eternal Night City, tearing away Sylvie’s facade had become her greatest pleasure!
Yes! She craved it so much!
How beautiful her exclusive toy, her personal puppet, would be when completely broken! This greedy thought nearly surpassed the longing she once felt to see that woman Cassia collapse!
And now.
This girl who always kept her at arm’s length had actually cast her—her master—aside for those lowly humans?
Klal’s crimson eyes gradually darkened.
She had succeeded in utterly breaking that woman Cassia.
Yet she couldn’t break her own blood livestock?
Heh…
Tap… tap… tap…
The tapping suddenly stopped. Klal’s lazy voice permeated with dangerous malice.
She asked casually.
“Sulga… What is your view of Sylvie?”
Sulga considered for a moment before replying respectfully.
“A nearly perfect puppet… Obedient, quiet, yet bearing flaws that cannot be ignored.”
Klal’s red lips curved into a meaningful arc.
“Is that all?”
Sulga thought further before continuing.
“She is calmer than she appears on the surface. When facing vampires, she perfectly conceals all emotion. Even when I look directly into her eyes, I see no fluctuation whatsoever.”
“Is that so… Heh heh heh.” Klal let out a series of pleased laughs from her throat.
“In my eyes, she is more like an exquisite mirror.” Her voice carried a certain obsession.
“Smooth and flawless on the surface, reflecting whatever others wish to see, but…”
“I am very curious what true interior will be revealed when this mirror shatters.”
Dangerous light gleamed in Klal’s crimson eyes. She leaned forward slightly, her voice soft as silk.
“Then… how do you think we might crack this exquisite mirror?”
Sulga pondered before answering.
“Direct pain may struggle to penetrate, but even the most perfect facade has its vulnerabilities…”
His voice lowered.
“Humans—lowly and filthy… yet their emotions are exceedingly complex.”
“Sometimes, destroying something they cherish inflicts far deeper wounds than direct harm… When everything she holds dear shatters before her eyes, even the most perfect mask will crack.”
The corners of Klal’s lips slowly rose, a glint of understanding and pleasure flashing in her crimson eyes.
“Very good…”
Sulga wisely remained silent. He knew the Queen’s obsession with that black-haired girl had long exceeded normal bounds.
And he was well aware.
Once targeted by Queen Klal, she would not relent until her desire was fully sated.
And the Queen… was rarely ever truly “sated.”
No prey targeted by Klal had ever escaped unscathed.
Even the former powerful Vampire Queen Cassia had ultimately fallen…
…
“Still… not here…”
In the pitch-black room, freezing night winds seeped into her marrow. The thin blanket offered almost no barrier against the soul-piercing cold.
Cassia sat on the bed, her drooping silver hair veiling her face. In the shadows, those crimson eyes emitted a faint red glow.
“Still… not here…”
“It’s already been two days, Sylvie… and she still hasn’t come.”
Intense hunger made her throat feel tightly choked—each swallow bringing unbearable burning. Yet more intolerable than this pain was the spreading void in her heart.
“Isn’t this… exactly what you wanted?” Whispers of self-conviction echoed in her mind.
“No one to intrude on your peace anymore…”
“No one to see you in this wretched state…”
She leaned against the hard bed, dull silver hair hanging to shield her face, trying to isolate herself from the world. Her motionless form was nearly indistinguishable from a corpse.
Yet the memory of that silver-haired girl grew ever clearer… those emerald eyes always filled with worry, those slender hands carefully offering blood, those gentle words spoken as if afraid to disturb something.
“That meddlesome blood livestock…”
“That hypocritical kindness…”
“I don’t need any of it…”
Yes, in the end, she had long grown tired of Sylvie’s so-called “care”—day after day, year after year.
She was Cassia, Cassia Fironiya! Even reduced to a cripple! Her pride! Her dignity! Would not allow her to survive like some lowly house pet, dependent on another’s care!
She didn’t need that girl’s concern!
She didn’t need her so-called attachment!
A mere blood livestock…
A lowly blood livestock!
A pitiful creature whose very existence relied on charity!
What right did she have to look at her that way?!
That gaze… as if beholding something precious…
That gaze… made her feel disgust!
Made her feel… “panic”?
When the word unconsciously surfaced in her mind, Cassia’s breathing hitched sharply.
When this unwanted silence truly descended, why did she feel unprecedented panic?
Why… did she feel this emotion…
Why, whenever footsteps echoed at the end of the corridor, did her heart race uncontrollably?
Why, in this solitude she had once craved, did she feel not relief—but an icy sense of abandonment?
Yet when another set of footsteps approached from afar, she still held her breath involuntarily. She froze like a statue, crimson eyes fixed on the door, unaware of the hidden anticipation within herself.
Until the footsteps faded, eventually vanishing down the corridor.
In the darkness, only her increasingly rapid breathing remained, along with that pitiful, tearing sense of loss.
No…
I don’t need her!
Never have!
I only accepted her because her progenitor bloodline could grant me strength!
Provide me value!
From the beginning! I only ever saw her as a tool!
A disposable toy!
I have never needed anyone!
Never…