Afternoon.
The inner chamber of the palace was dim and solemn.
Elaborate murals appeared faintly under the weak candlelight.
Sista stood by the window of the study on the second floor.
Old Steward Seban, his face covered in wrinkles that spoke of years gone by, held an account book and stood before Sista, meticulously reporting this month’s palace expenditures.
He held the heavy ledger with a low, respectful voice as he reported on this month’s expenses.
“Your Highness, the spending on jewelry purchases increased by thirty percent this month, mainly for Her Majesty the Queen’s birthday celebration. In addition, repair costs for the palace rose as well — mostly for fixing the leaky storerooms in the east wing and repainting the exterior walls…”
But Sista’s thoughts clearly weren’t on Seban’s report.
Her gaze sometimes drifted, sometimes fell outside the window.
Beneath the windowsill, an injured puppy was curled up in a corner, whining softly in pain.
Seban’s report gradually trailed off as he noticed Sista staring outside.
“And then… Your Highness?”
He carefully raised his head and saw a complicated glint flash through Sista’s eyes — only for it to vanish as quickly as it had come, replaced by an even colder expression.
Seban felt a trace of doubt but didn’t dare to question her.
Clearing his throat lightly, he tried to draw Sista’s attention back to the matter at hand.
“Your Highness, do you wish for me to continue?” Seban asked cautiously.
Sista retracted her gaze and looked back at Seban.
The fleeting emotion was gone from her eyes, leaving only indifference.
“Go on,” she replied flatly, as if everything just now had been Seban’s imagination.
“Yes, Your Highness. Also, the wages of the servants increased due to the recent recruitment of new staff. Furthermore, a fair sum was spent on the palace ball, including food, drink, and other supplies…”
Seban continued detailing the palace’s expenditures, but his heart was still puzzled.
Why would someone as cold and indifferent as Sista show that kind of look for an injured puppy?
Yet after a while, Sista’s gaze became distant again.
This time Seban could bear it no longer and gave Sista a meaningful look.
“Your Highness, if I may be so bold, you must mind your image. You are a princess of the Blood Clan — it would not do to tarnish the family’s honor.”
Sista’s eyes narrowed, and she turned toward Seban, her voice laced with an icy edge.
“What are you implying?”
Seban’s heart skipped a beat.
He immediately lowered his head and hurried to explain, “Your Highness, I only follow the King’s orders. I am to remind you to put aside any compassion and uphold the family’s glory and interests.”
Sista sneered, her eyes full of mockery. “You mean that dog outside? Even a human’s life is of no concern to me. Why would I be kind to a mere beast?”
Seban immediately lowered his head even further, fearing that Blood Princess Sista was about to erupt in anger.
He didn’t dare say more and continued his report in silence.
“Next are the medical expenses…”
“Seban, you can take care of these trivial matters yourself. I don’t want to hear any more of it,” Sista interrupted him, a trace of impatience on her face.
Seban nodded in acknowledgment, placed the report lightly on the table, then turned and slowly left the study.
He knew Sista’s temperament well and dared not utter another superfluous word.
Once again, the study fell into silence.
Sista’s gaze shifted back outside the window.
In the garden, the flowers were in full bloom, bursting with life.
But a look of boredom crept into her eyes, as if even this scenery could not hold her interest.
Suddenly, her gaze froze on a corner of the garden.
There, a silver-haired maid appeared in her sight.
Dressed in a simple servant’s gown, the maid was gently stroking the injured puppy.
“That maid… I’ve seen her before,” Sista thought.
The silver-haired girl was still crouched next to the puppy, softly rubbing its head with a touch of concern in her rose-pink eyes.
“There, there. I’ll come back to treat your wounds in a bit,” she murmured softly.
Suddenly, a middle-aged voice called out.
It was the gardener in the garden.
“Hey! You’re the maid who’s supposed to be helping with the chores, right? Why did you damage my flowers? That was an expensive species!”
Su Ling jolted upright and quickly lowered her head to apologize.
“I’m sorry — I didn’t mean to.”
“You ruined my flowers and you’re here wasting time fussing over some stray dog instead of working properly? Don’t make me report you to Steward Seban!”
“I just wanted to tend to its wounds. I’ll get back to work immediately,” Su Ling replied hurriedly.
The gardener let out a dissatisfied huff and left.
Su Ling gazed after him with a helpless sigh.
She glanced back at the puppy once more before standing up and leaving the corner in silence.
Inside the castle, Sista watched Su Ling’s retreating figure and snorted.
“What a fool. First standing up for some maid who’s a stranger to her, and now scolded by a gardener because of some beast.”
She spoke to herself, but her mind involuntarily returned to that night’s memories.
Su Ling’s gentle face, the sweetness of her blood, and those clear, bright eyes.
Sista had seen countless eyes before — human eyes, vampire eyes, beastman eyes — yet none were as peculiar as that girl’s.
The way she looked at Sista was unlike anything of this world.
Sista had long been aware of the knight named Roca and her purpose. Roca was loyal to Countess Candice, and that foolish countess had kept kidnapping humans to gain her favor, ignoring all propriety.
Yet Sista had never liked drinking directly from humans.
Every time she was sent blood-slaves, she found them distasteful.
This had sparked all kinds of gossip among nobles — whispers of “the coward who fears to drink,” or “the useless second princess.”
Until she saw Su Ling.
Why had she kept her?
Even Sista herself couldn’t say.
Perhaps she simply wished to stop the nobles from talking.
Or perhaps she had been captivated by Su Ling’s uniqueness.
“Tch,” Sista muttered, lightly slapping her cheek.
“She’s just a human, that’s all…”
Humans or vampires — in the end, they were all the same.
Su Ling was merely one of her blood-slaves.
With that cold thought, Sista left the windowsill.
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