She suddenly spread her slender arms and actively wrapped them around Utia’s waist.
The sudden embrace carried an unmistakable tremor. Sylvie buried her face into Utia’s cold abdomen.
Two muffled words, thick with a nasal tone and suppressed choking, slipped out faintly from the fabric.
“…Thank you.”
No matter what kind of person Utia was, no matter how vicious her personality, and no matter how terrifying the rumors about her were.
At this moment, Utia had truly helped Sylvie—not just once.
Last time, she had helped conceal Cassia’s matter, sparing her from the Queen’s fury. This time, she had saved Nia, Lynla, and the others… the most important family Sylvie had in this world.
Utia’s body stiffened almost imperceptibly.
The teasing playfulness in her blood-red eyes vanished, replaced by a rare, bewildered astonishment. She looked down and could only see the crown of Sylvie’s head and that slender, fragile neck that looked as if it would snap with the slightest pressure.
She was actually… thanking her?
Utia’s fingers twitched, hovering in mid-air. For a moment, she didn’t know where to place them—push her away? Or… offer a perfunctory pat like she had done with Lynla?
In the end, her hand slowly settled on Sylvie’s thin back. She spoke again in a teasing tone.
“Sister thought you would hate me to the bone, little one. After all, it was me who forced you into this situation, wasn’t it?”
Sylvie’s body trembled again, but she didn’t let go. She simply shook her head gently, her hair brushing against Utia’s clothes.
“Hate… and gratitude, they don’t conflict.” Her voice remained muffled.
“You did bad things, so I dislike you. You did… a little bit of good, so I’m grateful. It’s that simple.”
That simple?
Utia almost laughed out loud.
“…You really are a strange little thing.” Utia said softly, complex emotions surging deep in her blood-red eyes.
“However…”
She paused. Her other hand rose, fingertips tracing across Sylvie’s cheek.
“Seeing you like this makes you seem… far more delicious than that empty shell from earlier.”
Her voice regained its familiar thick, sticky sweetness.
“You came to sister’s room all alone and even dared to make such a bold, intimate move. Aren’t you afraid sister won’t be able to hold back and will push you down, devouring you bit by bit? Hehehe… Actually, sister really wants to do that right now.”
She laughed with clear delight.
Sylvie in her arms made no sound. She simply released the embrace and took a step back.
She kept her head lowered, her expression returning to its usual numb calm, though her eyes were red-rimmed.
After a moment of silence, she began to speak slowly.
“From the moment Sylvie gained memories, she has been struggling to survive in this cold city. So I don’t know what the ‘rules’ of the outside world are like, nor do I know how one is supposed to express ‘gratitude’ to someone out there.”
“…But Sylvie knows exactly what rules govern this place, this penned land.”
Sylvie spoke softly. She finally raised her head. There was still a faint redness around her eyes, but her emerald gaze no longer held any tears—only a nearly cruel calm.
She looked straight into Utia’s blood-colored eyes without the slightest evasion. Her lips moved, and with a faint tremor she uttered two words.
“…‘Price.’”
“To gain something, you must pay something… In Eternal Night City, to eat your fill requires a price. To breathe requires a price. To live also requires a price.”
“…Even the smallest help demands a corresponding ‘price’ in exchange. This is the iron rule that governs Eternal Night City, one that Sylvie deeply understands and has always followed.”
Her gaze swept across Utia’s beautiful face, across the luxurious yet cold room, and finally returned to Utia’s blood-red eyes that sparkled with amusement and scrutiny.
“Lord Utia, as a Blood Overseer, you stand at the pinnacle of these rules. You granted Nia and the others shelter, gave them a temporary place to stay, and even… tacitly allowed certain concealments.” Her voice paused briefly.
“All of these are ‘gifts,’ and ‘gifts’ require a ‘price’ in return.”
“But Sylvie… has nothing.” Her voice stated this fact calmly.
“No wealth, no power, no knowledge or secrets to trade. Here, the only things Sylvie possesses that can be offered as ‘price’ are, as blood livestock…”
She paused, then slowly reached out again. This time it was not an embrace. She unbuttoned the top button of her collar, revealing pale skin.
“…‘Blood,’ and ‘body.’ If you… want them…”
The air in the room seemed to freeze completely.
The smile on Utia’s face faded somewhat. The playfulness in her blood-red eyes was replaced by a deeper, more profound scrutiny.
She looked at the fragile yet resilient girl before her, at those terrifyingly calm emerald eyes, at the neck and collarbone she had proactively exposed—symbols of submission and devotion.
Voluntary sacrifice.
Not forced submission, not a desperate breakdown, but a clear-headed, rational act of placing her only assets on the table to pay what she believed was the due ‘price.’
This shocked Utia more than any fierce resistance or desperate pleading.
Yes, shocked.
This pitiful little thing was using her own way to understand and adapt to the darkest, most naked rules of Eternal Night City.
She wasn’t naively thinking a “thank you” could cancel everything out, nor was she foolishly trying to move a vampire with emotion. She clearly knew that here, everything had a price, and she was paying hers… with herself.
“So…” The playfulness in Utia’s voice did not fade; instead, it gained a hint of questioning.
“You came back tonight, hugged me on your own, expressed gratitude… and then told me all this, just to pay the ‘price’ you think I deserve?”
“Yes.” Sylvie’s answer was short and firm.
“Sylvie will… do her best to satisfy Lord Utia’s needs, as long as… you continue to honor your promise.”
As she spoke, she extended one hand. Her slender fingers gently pressed against the exposed skin at the front of her neck. Her steady voice sounded like she was presenting an enticing commodity.
“Sylvie’s body is thin and barren, not as full as Lord Utia’s, but Sylvie’s body is very clean and very resilient. No matter how intense the… ‘use,’ Sylvie can endure it.”
She lowered her eyes again. Her long lashes concealed the last trace of emotion in her gaze.
She stood there like a gift waiting to be unwrapped, or like a lamb calmly awaiting the predator’s feast…