Inside the grand banquet hall, amidst a clamor of voices and merriment, Sista sat at the table with her gaze slightly lowered, as if waiting for something.
A servant carefully carried a goblet of crimson liquid toward her—it was a specially crafted vintage prepared for the vampire princess.
Her eyes flickered slightly, as if she’d caught onto something. But just as she was about to reach for the goblet, she suddenly froze.
Is… is it now?
Phil had said that Sista disliked the smell of blood, and that the only time to add the rose spice was at this precise moment.
Though Su Ling was still confused as to why Phil had suddenly told her to use the spice, if it was an order from Sista, the consequences of disobeying it were unthinkable.
That woman was watching her intently. If she didn’t act now, it would be too late!
There was no time to hesitate—Su Ling gritted her teeth and moved.
In her flustered state, she fumbled to pull the sachet of rose-scented spice from her pocket, intending to pour it into the goblet to mask the unpleasant metallic scent.
But her nerves got the better of her. In her haste, she spilled the spice outside the goblet, some of it landing on the table.
“I’m sorry…”
Startled, Su Ling immediately used her sleeve to wipe the spilled spice. Her movements were quick, but in the hushed hall, they sounded jarring.
She didn’t notice that the surrounding vampires had paused, their eyes shifting toward her and Sista with growing curiosity.
“What are you doing!”
A voice snapped at her.
Su Ling looked up timidly to see Sista’s icy eyes locked onto her, shock clearly written on her usually unreadable face.
She looked truly stunned—like she had never expected Su Ling’s action at all.
“I…” Su Ling’s heart sank. She quickly looked down, unable to meet the princess’s eyes.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she whispered an apology: “I’m sorry, Your Highness. It was my oversight. I’ll prepare a fresh glass for you right away.”
Sista cast her a frosty glance, her gaze radiating a chilling indifference and distance. That look cut like ice, sending a shiver straight through Su Ling’s chest.
The atmosphere in the banquet hall had turned deeply strange. What was once lively and exuberant now felt cloaked in an invisible tension. The laughter and chatter faded, replaced by a murmuring hush.
Su Ling’s heart pounded like war drums. Her face burned, and her body tensed with unease.
She cast glances around the room, trying to read the crowd’s expressions. But all she saw were faces—some surprised, some skeptical, some openly mocking—all silently judging her with their eyes.
“Your Highness…” Su Ling’s voice trembled. She wanted to explain, but didn’t know where to start.
Sista didn’t respond. The guests’ gazes flicked between the two of them, whispering among themselves.
Something’s wrong.
Su Ling’s chest tightened.
It couldn’t be just because she spilled some spice… No, this felt much deeper. Her instincts screamed that something beneath the surface of this feast was very wrong.
She searched the guests’ expressions again, looking for a clue—but everyone seemed veiled in fog. Their true emotions were hard to read. Her heart raced like it might leap out of her chest.
Sista’s face was rigid—Su Ling had never seen her look like this before. She had always seemed poised, elegant, in control. But now, she looked… unsettled.
“Your—”
“Your Highness, I never imagined you were that particular about your blood. Even at such a grand banquet, you’d order your maid to add spice?”
Before Su Ling could finish speaking, a woman’s voice rang out from across the table. It belonged to a plump, round-faced redhead. At first, Su Ling didn’t recognize her—until she noticed the man beside her: Count Mongo.
This was his wife.
In the novel, Lady Mongo was notorious for her sharp tongue. She often used banquets as a stage to assert her so-called “refined taste.” Su Ling had heard of her grudge with Sista—but never expected her to pick a fight here and now.
The mood instantly shifted, like a stone had been thrown into a still lake, sending ripples outward.
The countess curled her lips in a mocking smile, her voice laced with derision but loud enough for all to hear:
“Oh dear, it seems our princess is so pampered that even her blood must be customized.”
Her sarcasm stung. Sista’s face flushed slightly with embarrassment.
A few noblewomen joined in, murmuring and smirking behind fans.
Some giggled and shook their heads; others cast disdainful glances toward Sista. Though their voices were low, every word reached the ears of all present.
“How absurd—she’s a vampire, and she’s picky about blood?”
“Exactly. I thought the princess was more noble than this. Using spices at a banquet—such poor manners.”
“She’s just a spoiled child. His Majesty coddles her too much.”
Sista bit her lip hard, her eyes blazing as she swept her gaze across the murmuring, sneering nobles. Her expression darkened like the sky before a storm.
Su Ling was already frozen in fear, sneaking glances at Sista with guilt and dread.
She remembered that shocked look on Sista’s face.
Clearly, Sista hadn’t ordered her to use the spice.
That wasn’t her command at all.
What now? Su Ling had only done what Phil instructed. How had things spiraled so badly?
Her back was soaked in cold sweat. She knew she had made a terrible mistake. There was no way Sista would forgive her after this.
“Your Highness, I—”
But Sista didn’t even glance her way. Her attention was fixed entirely on the mocking nobles.
The king, seated at the head of the table, now wore a thunderous expression. He glared sharply at Sista, his voice filled with disapproval:
“Sista, what is the meaning of this? Adding spice to blood is something a child would do! You’re no longer a child! This behavior disgraces the dignity of our royal house!”
And then came Count Shenuel Mongo, always at odds with Sista, stepping into the fray.
“Princess, you’ve truly opened my eyes today,” he said with a sneer, walking to her side. “To think you don’t even know the most basic customs of our kind—how can you possibly be fit to govern?”
Others joined in:
“His Majesty spoils her far too much.”
“She’s just temporary. Once Crown Princess Moria returns, she won’t be so arrogant.”
The hall erupted with murmurs. Sista’s expression darkened to the color of stormclouds, and her hands clenched into fists—so tight her nails dug deep into her palms.