Chapter 13: Entering the City

The Imperial Capital, Silverglow City.

The blazing sunlight scorched the earth without mercy, distorting even the air itself. Along the grand avenue leading to the majestic City Gate, a long line of people stretched forward like an endless snake, inching ahead at a snail’s pace.

But two figures stood out starkly from the crowd.

Tulia carried a simple parasol, her face veiled by a thin layer of gauze. She had wrapped herself and her daughter, Lisbeth, up so thoroughly that not a hint of skin showed.

In this punishing sun, where everyone else was stripped down as much as decency allowed, their modest but stifling attire looked like it was meant not just to keep out sunlight, but also to avoid prying eyes.

Just as the crowd’s patience was about to run dry, a sharp cry split the sky.

A massive black shadow plunged from above, accompanied by the shrill sound of wind being torn asunder. A mighty Griffin folded its wings and landed with precision on the open ground beside the City Gate. Just before hitting the ground, its powerful wings swept downward to slow its descent—yet still stirred up a fierce whirlwind!

“Ah—!”

“My goods!”

Sand and dust swirled into the air, and chaos erupted in the line as people and animals were sent tumbling. Screams, curses, and the clatter of falling goods all mingled together.

Tulia staggered as the sudden gale nearly toppled her; the parasol flew from her grasp, and her veil was swept up, fluttering into the sky.

“Tch, those high-and-mighty Knights never care whether ordinary people live or die.”

She muttered inwardly, her deep-seated contempt for the privileged class flashing to the surface. Then she realized, in shock, that she was exposed to the sunlight and everyone’s gaze!

The thin veil—was gone!

But just as she reached up to shield herself, a silvery blur moved faster than she could.

Without hesitation, Lisbeth pushed off with her toes, her entire body soaring like an elegant silver swallow. Her slender fingers darted through the air, snatching the tumbling parasol and the drifting veil in the same instant.

She returned to her mother’s side, handing the two items over as if it were nothing at all.

By now, the whirlwind had finally died down.

The townsfolk, having barely regained their footing in the aftermath, were brushing dust off their bodies.

Yet, a peculiar hush fell over the noisy crowd. All eyes unconsciously converged in one direction.

There stood a woman who had just taken back her parasol and veil.

Under the sunlight, her waterfall of silver hair was tied into a ponytail with a plain cloth ribbon, a few rebellious strands plastered to her pale cheeks from the fright.

Her simple clothes could not conceal her breathtaking figure—her full, ample chest stretched the rough cloth into a suggestive curve, while her snow-white neck and delicate collarbone seemed to glow in the sun.

Her face bore no trace of girlish innocence; instead, there was a calm, gentle air that only time could grant, her eyes holding just the right touch of confusion and innocence. It was not a sharp, world-stirring beauty, but a tender allure—a mature woman’s charm, soft as water, captivating the heart in an instant.

“My heavens…”

“Whose lady is she?”

“That bearing… Could she be a noblewoman fallen on hard times?”

Low whispers broke out, unable to contain the shock of her beauty—this uproar even drowned out complaints about the Griffin Knight.

Naturally, the commotion caught the attention of the female Knight. She had just dismounted from her Griffin with practiced ease, issuing orders to the approaching Imperial Guards: “Take good care of my Windcutter. No flying in the capital—it’s such a bother.”

She glanced dismissively at the center of the crowd’s agitation, her eyes sweeping over that stunning face without pausing. In the past two years, how many impoverished nobles had fled to the capital for one reason or another? Beautiful ones weren’t so rare. She’d long since stopped being surprised.

The city guards responsible for order, however, lacked such lofty detachment. They strode over with obvious impatience, ready to scold the “country bumpkins” clogging the line.

“What’s everyone doing? Get back in line—”

The lead guard stopped mid-shout as his eyes fell on Tulia, now surrounded by the crowd.

His voice died in his throat, the rebuke sticking fast. The arrogance and impatience usually written on his face were replaced by one thing—blank astonishment.

He and his comrades stood there, motionless, their halberds feeling as heavy as lead, minds wiped blank by the sight of that gentle, lovely face.

The Captain’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he tried to swallow his shock, but found his throat parched. The harsh command at the tip of his tongue twisted itself into a hoarse, cautious tone that even he barely recognized:

“Ahem… Madam… are you… are you alright? That wind was fierce just now—did you get hurt?”

His manner had changed completely—gone was the usual bluster shown to commoners, replaced by awkward, almost fawning concern.

The crowd watched, stunned, and then stifled snickers rippled quietly among them.

Tulia did not raise her head, but immediately bent low in a deep bow, humble to the extreme.

“I’m so sorry! Truly, I apologize!” Her voice trembled with urgency, as if she had committed some grave offense. “It’s my fault for not standing firm and causing this commotion—please forgive me! I am so very sorry!”

Even as she spoke, she swiftly put the thin veil back on, her movements quick and decisive.

She tugged Lisbeth’s collar, lowered the parasol as far as it would go, and did her utmost to shrink herself and her daughter into the shade, not letting the slightest bit of skin show.

The Captain watched as the beauty in front of him became, in a flash, just another heavily wrapped common woman, as if the previous moment had been a dream. His face showed a trace of regret and frustration.

The open contempt in the crowd’s gaze made his cheeks burn as he realized how ridiculous his change in attitude had been. To save face, he cleared his throat and turned to the line, putting on a stern look as he barked—though the edge was gone from his voice:

“What are you all staring at?! Back in line! Any more noise and you’ll be sent to the end!”

But the bravado did nothing to restore his dignity. Instead, it drew even more silent ridicule.

The townsfolk, cowed by his halberd, returned to order—but the scornful looks cast his way struck like invisible slaps, reddening his face all the more.

“Tch, what a two-faced bootlicker.”

“A minute ago he was fawning like a lapdog, now he barks at us.”

The muttered complaints pricked at his ears like needles. The Captain’s face flushed and paled by turns, but he could do nothing but glare in a few directions before turning away from Tulia, pretending nothing had happened.

Still feeling the heat of embarrassment, the Captain sought a way to regain his composure and authority. He cleared his throat, trying to sound official, but his voice was noticeably gentler.

“Uh, madam, just a routine inspection. Where are you from? What brings you to the capital?”

Tulia kept her head low. Of course she knew what this fool of a guard was thinking—after all, before becoming a Vampire in this world, she’d been a man herself.

Men, especially petty officials like this, with a bit of power and nothing but filth in their heads—what else could you expect?

“Fine, you want a show? I’ll give you one.” Tulia sneered inwardly.

“Replying… replying to your lordship,” she answered in a deliberately shaky, suppressed voice, every syllable perfectly capturing “frail” and “helpless.” “My daughter and I… we fled here from the Kingdom.”

As soon as she spoke, she let her shoulders tremble ever so slightly—this body was a natural at appearing pitiable.

“My husband… he… he passed away from illness not long ago…” Tulia rolled her eyes inwardly, her voice thickening with a sob as she dabbed at her eyes beneath the veil with her sleeve. “As soon as he was gone, his brothers coveted the tiny bit of property we had, and even… even tried to force themselves on me…””Making up a dead husband, classic first step.”

“Add a few evil in-laws, perfect victim image, check.” She gave herself a mental thumbs-up. With this acting, in her previous life, she’d have been an award-winning star.

“We had no choice but to sell everything, and escape with my daughter in the dead of night. We heard the Empire’s laws are just, and that beneath the Heavenly Son’s Foot, peace reigns… So we came to the capital, hoping to find a quiet place to live. We ask for nothing but safety…”

As she spoke, she summoned a bit of Vampire Blood Clan Power, forcing two teardrops from her tear ducts. They slid just right along the edge of her veil, trailing down her jaw and landing on the dry earth, leaving tiny dark stains.

Perfect! Tulia gave herself full marks for her performance.

However, beside her, Lisbeth wore a look of total confusion. Her wide eyes seemed to say: Husband? Dead? Brothers? Our family? What is mother talking about?

She unconsciously opened her mouth in shock, her expression almost ruining the tragic act on the spot.

At that moment, she felt her waist pinched sharply!

Lisbeth jolted, instantly grasping her mother’s meaning. She lowered her head at once, shoulders quivering like Tulia’s, perfectly playing the part of a heartbroken, pitiable orphan girl.

The Captain, meanwhile, was utterly swept up by Tulia’s “tragedy act plus beauty’s tears” combo.

“Look at that fool’s face,” Tulia sneered behind her veil, eyeing the Captain’s mixture of sympathy and dazed infatuation, “Clearly, brains aren’t something everyone gets.”

Is the story cliché? As cliché as they come. Are the lies obvious? Couldn’t be faker.

But so what?

The Captain raged inwardly: How could such a beautiful, gentle woman have an easy life?

Those sorrowful eyes—how could they possibly lie?

She’s different! She would never deceive me!

What she’s suffered must be a thousand times worse than this story!

For a moment, his meager compassion and cheap Knightly chivalry swelled tenfold. He gazed at Tulia, eyes brimming with pity and outrage.

“I see… What terrible misfortune!” He bit out, as if the evil brothers were his mortal enemies. “Madam, rest assured—here in Silverglow City, no one will dare bully you and your daughter!”

“Hah, as if you could protect anyone,” Tulia mocked inwardly. “Without that uniform, you’re not even a dog.”

Suddenly inspired, the Captain clapped his head and announced to the crowd with great “officialdom”:

“Alright! This lady and her daughter have already delayed everyone long enough. To prevent further disturbance and keep the line moving, I’ve decided to let them enter first! You, you, and you, come escort them through the priority passage!”

Using “maintaining order” as a high-sounding excuse, he openly abused his authority.

The crowd’s scornful glances returned, but the Captain straightened his back, as if he’d performed a heroic deed.

Tulia maintained her delicate, helpless demeanor as she was “escorted” toward the City Gate. There was no gratitude in her heart, only the thrill of toying with others and biting mockery.

“Men, no matter the world, are just this easy to fool.”

She gripped Lisbeth’s hand tightly, head lowered even more, blending completely into the tide of scornful and noisy people.