“You’re wrong, my dear little blood livestock. You are… ‘dead wrong’.”
Klal withdrew her finger, drawing out a thin silver thread of saliva, which she slowly wiped away on Sylvie’s pale cheek.
“It’s precisely this appearance of yours—this doll-like form where the soul seems utterly drained, leaving only a perfect shell—that most arouses certain beings’ … desire to toy with you.”
“Like… the finest porcelain. The more flawless and impeccable it is, the more one wants to see… what it looks like when shattered. Hehe~”
Klal leaned down, staring fixedly at Sylvie. Her icy breath brushed against Sylvie’s face. In her crimson eyes reflected Sylvie’s face, still striving to maintain calm.
“The more you try to hide yourself with submission, the more curious I become… curious about what remains beneath that perfect outer shell.”
Her fingertip lifted, gently pressing over Sylvie’s heart. Through the thin fabric, she felt the frantic beating beneath.
“I want to see what color your anger is. When your endurance reaches its limit, how your despair will flow. And most of all…”
Her voice lowered, like a devil’s whisper, laced with chilling anticipation.
“I want to see what pleasing expression this doll of mine will show when it finally loses control and breaks down completely. Hehe~”
“Tell me, my dear…”
She suddenly called out, smile in her tone.
“Can you… ‘get angry’ for me to see?”
“…Yes, Master.”
Sylvie’s voice remained flat and unruffled. She reached up, rubbing her face with her fingers, deliberately furrowing her brows to feign an “angry” expression.
The movement truly resembled a movable doll attempting to comprehend living emotions.
Yet this action—clearly just “obeying the Queen’s command as always”—did not annoy or dissatisfy Klal.
She merely smiled more intriguingly, then spoke slowly.
“What a cute doll you are. Hehe… so cute I want to devour you in one bite… I’ll teach you. I’ll teach you what ‘anger’ truly is.”
With that, she lay back down, waving a hand at Sylvie.
“Go now. Tomorrow, I’ll be waiting for you here…”
“…Yes.”
…
Back in the small room in the courtyard that belonged to Sylvie alone.
As the door behind her slowly closed, plunging the room into cold darkness, the girl—exhausted to her limits—collapsed onto the bed like a puddle of mud. She exhaled deeply, deeply, releasing a breath still laced with wine and blood scents.
“Ah…”
So tired… I just want to die for a bit.
“What anger? Get angry for me to see.”
If I really got angry, you wouldn’t like it anyway…
Make her angry? Throw a tantrum at her master—at the Vampire Queen?
Did she dare?!
If she truly lost her temper, before the Queen could even react, the enforcers outside would rush in and chop her into mince!
What was wrong with Master today? Why did she act like that after getting drunk?
Sylvie buried her face deep into the icy pillow, trying to block out the lingering wine and metallic scents in the air.
Every part of her body screamed with fatigue—the stinging wound, weakness from blood loss, and the weariness from prolonged mental strain.
“Anger.”
Displaying it would be “disrespect”— “defilement”—giving Klal and the other vampires an even more justified excuse to torment her, or even destroy her.
She had long learned to seal her true emotions layer by layer in ice. That shell was so solid, so perfect, that sometimes even she couldn’t tell if anything named “Sylvie” remained inside.
Yet today, Klal insisted on prying it open.
Not with violence, but with this… far more chilling method.
With drunken eyes, ambiguous touches, and requests full of malicious whims—probing her again and again.
“Want to see what it looks like when shattered…” Sylvie rolled over, lying on her back in the darkness. Her emerald eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.
“If it shatters, won’t there be nothing left…”
She didn’t understand why Klal would be interested in a doll’s breakdown. Wasn’t maintaining the status quo better? A tool that was eternally submissive, never erring—wasn’t that the most convenient?
“Really… enough…” She let out a helpless sigh. Intense fatigue finally overtook her, enveloping her completely.
Sylvie fell deeply asleep…
This would be one of her rare moments to truly relax.
…
High above Eternal Night City, Utia’s figure hovered in the air. Her gaze coldly scanned the clustered cold buildings below, searching for something.
“…”
Not found…
She had let one rat escape.
But with injuries that severe, in a fragile human body, she probably wouldn’t last the night before dying.
Thinking this, Utia returned to the two dead humans. She was about to grab the corpses to present to the Queen when she noticed… something lying beside one body?
A… syringe?
Utia’s brows arched slightly. She bent down and picked it up.
The cold cylinder was finely crafted—less like simple medical equipment, more like a precision instrument.
…Humans loved tinkering with pointless gadgets; Utia knew this well.
She spun it casually with one hand, then noticed a faint red dot blinking at one end.
Utia stopped spinning the syringe. Her slit pupils narrowed, focusing on that red glow.
She could sense a subtle, continuous vibration—as if something inside was pulsing in response to a signal.
“A tracker…”
As she pondered, the next moment she sensed something and swiftly hid the syringe in her sleeve.
Light footsteps approached from behind.
“How did it go.” Sulga’s low, cold voice sounded.
Utia resumed her usual flippant smile.
“Just a few overconfident humans. No idea where they got the nerve to sneak in here.”
“All dealt with?” Sulga pressed.
“One got away, but I crushed her organs with a kick. She’ll probably die in some corner tonight…”
“…” Sulga fell silent for a moment, then continued.
“You should have left one alive.”
Utia scoffed disdainfully.
“That was my plan at first. Who knew they’d court death by provoking me?”
Another silence. He glanced at the mangled corpses on the ground, then asked.
“Did you… find anything unusual?”
Utia’s slit pupils narrowed slightly. She replied in a deliberately meaningful tone.
“Yes, of course. Hehe~”
With that, she pulled a bloodstained silver bullet from her pocket.
“Those humans seem to have cooked up some troublesome new toys again… This material can easily pierce vampire skin. Even I took a solid hit from it.”
“Anything else?” he pressed.
Utia spread her hands casually.
“That’s all.”
“…”
Sulga stared at Utia’s composed face for a long moment before simply turning away, leaving a final remark.
“Her Majesty the Queen is waiting for you in the hall.”
His figure vanished once more.
The smile on Utia’s face gradually froze over with ice. She glanced again at the syringe in her sleeve, then concealed it securely before grabbing the two corpses and heading toward the hall.
…
Thud!
The corpses hit the floor with a muffled echo that rang harshly through the hall.
Utia knelt on one knee, head bowed, voice respectful.
“Your Majesty, the ‘rats’ have been dealt with.”
Atop the throne, the scarlet canopy stirred without wind. Klal did not glance at the broken bodies on the floor—as if they were merely insignificant trash.
She maintained her languid side-lounging posture. Through the veil, her crimson eyes settled on the kneeling Utia, gaze holding a lingering haze not fully cleared, along with elusive amusement.
“Well done, Utia.” Klal’s voice carried an inscrutable smile.
“You handled it cleanly. I knew I could count on you.”
Utia’s head dipped lower. She said nothing. She couldn’t discern the meaning in that smile, but she knew.
It was certainly not praise.
“However,” Klal shifted tone, fingertip lightly tapping the chaise’s edge.
“Compared to these unimportant rats, I now have another… far more interesting matter that requires you to handle. Hehe…”
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