Hill soon understood why.
The youthful and radiant Otis stepped out of the carriage, her adorable leather shoes treading upon the filthy, muddy ground at the edge of the town. Fortunately, it hadn’t rained recently; otherwise, even the tiniest splash of mud on those shoes would make one’s heart ache.
Even so, Hill couldn’t help but feel a pang of worry at the sight. Not for any other reason, but because she harbored a special affection for women’s feet—especially beautiful women’s feet. This sentiment didn’t belong to her body’s original owner, but rather to the soul that had crossed over from another world.
In this world, the ethos of the era was much more liberal thanks to the existence of the extraordinary, yet a woman’s feet were still considered taboo—untouchable, unseeable. There were cases where commoners, for having glanced a second too long at the exposed ankle of a noblewoman alighting from her carriage, were whipped within an inch of their life. And so, the more forbidden it was, the more it piqued curiosity and desire to explore. Hill’s unspeakable preferences surely stemmed from this.
She had originally wanted to go up and ask her friend why she’d come to such a place. After all, as the outskirts of town, “dirty, messy, and poor” were the most concise and powerful descriptors. Even some lawmen from common backgrounds kept well away from here, not to mention pampered noble ladies and young misses.
Otis slightly lifted her skirt and hurried over to Hill, unceremoniously taking the girl’s hand and holding it against her chest.
Hill was momentarily stunned, but when she looked up into Otis’s eyes, filled with complicated emotions, she understood that the other probably had something difficult to say.
“Hill.”
“I’m here.”
Otis bit her bright red lips and softly said, “My mother wishes to see you.”
“Here?”
“In the carriage.”
For nobles, a carriage was not merely a means of transport, but also a symbol of status, and in many ways, it was almost the equivalent of a noble’s bedroom. Even after marriage, many nobles would sleep apart—one castle, one manor, master and mistress rarely shared the same room.
The carriage compartment was no different. Though not quite as extreme, most nobles would never allow servants or outsiders inside. Only esteemed guests or close blood relatives had such privilege.
Hill considered herself an ordinary student. Even though she had displayed uncommon magical talent, in the grand scheme of the town, it was hardly anything extraordinary. She couldn’t understand why a noblewoman would invite her to share the carriage, and with nightfall approaching, the timing wasn’t ideal either.
So it was that Hill was half-dragged into the carriage, with the coachman in front sitting like a loyal guardian, ready to protect the three ladies behind him with his life. Thanks to this, and the innate awe commoners held for nobility, no one dared approach the carriage, even though it drew countless gazes as it stood at the town’s edge.
Inside, the compartment wasn’t cramped at all, able to fit two rows of seats and a table upon which rested an exquisite tea set. The porcelain was white, its craftsmanship appearing to hail from a distant Eastern Empire, decorated with gilded patterns denoting honor, and the spoons in the cups seemed to be made of silver—a detail that instinctively repulsed Hill.
Thankfully, vampires wouldn’t turn to ash simply from using silver cutlery; it only became dangerous if it pierced their bodies and touched their blood. Of course, using too much was a slow suicide—only high-ranking vampires could learn to mimic human elegance in this way.
Hill and Otis sat together, their gazes naturally falling upon the noblewoman before them.
My God… Oh my God, oh my God!
Apart from the memories of this body’s original mother, this was the first time Hill had ever seen such an elegant, dignified, and beautiful woman!
Her features resembled those marble statues that ancient sculptors had carved in homage to the goddess, every detail adhering to the golden ratio, as if imitating the goddess herself—a man-made miracle!
A classic oval face, its gentle lines seemed to tell outsiders about this noblewoman’s character: gentle and intellectual, with a faint blush on either cheek, not a trace of the cold or caustic impression people often had of the nobility. Even when silent, the corners of her lips turned up in a soft smile. No matter the angle, it felt as if she were smiling at you.
The lady’s gaze was lowered at first, only lifting once her daughter had brought Hill into the carriage. Her deep forest-green eyes reflected Hill’s nervous appearance. There was no disdain or mockery in that gaze, only calmness and a faint appreciation.
She held her head high, ever mindful of her noble etiquette, her swan-like white neck gracefully extended. The high-collared azure gown accentuated her curvaceous, well-proportioned figure. The tight waist formed an arc, like a silver moon just shy of being full, and above that, her chest made Hill swallow hard several times.
Did this lady never tire when she went out for walks?
Oh, right—she had such a comfortable carriage to carry her. Hill thought that, even if she had to bear the same burden, she wouldn’t mind in the slightest.
The air was filled with a sweet, intoxicating scent, more natural than synthetic perfumes. Hill’s vampiric instincts told her that this fragrance came from the mature body of the noblewoman before her.
Her eyes were drawn to that perfect form, and her blood craved the precious liquid flowing beneath that elegant skin.
What would it taste like? What would it taste like?
Hill was desperate to know. Only now did she realize that the sweetest blood in the world didn’t necessarily come from untouched maidens; it was the noblewomen, who had weathered the passage of years, whose blood was a true vintage worth savoring!
Hill was shamefully tempted.
Her eyes widened, struggling to suppress the ecstasy rising from within, while her expression feigned innocence. Unconsciously, she inched closer, wanting to be nearer to this woman who was an unparalleled feast for her senses.
Otis, oblivious to her friend’s thoughts—let alone the inappropriate ideas already forming about her dear mother—fulfilled the duties of pouring tea for the two, despite her status as a noble young lady. She knew that what her mother was about to say concerned her future.
“You are Hill Hamill?” the noblewoman asked softly. Her voice did not have the lark-like tone of a young girl, but rather, like a bottle of fine wine aged for years, it burst forth with a rich, mature fragrance.
Hill nodded. “Honored Madam, I am Hill Hamill.”
To her, simply listening to that voice was a pleasure.
“You may call me Lady Anna.” Lady Anna’s bearing seemed lofty, but her tone was far from distant. “You must be curious why I wouldn’t come personally to the edge of town to find you.”
Hill didn’t answer, but she was sharp enough to consider her greatest advantage.
Appearance, status, identity…
If not for extraordinary powers, these qualities alone could let someone rise swiftly in the world.
But, alas, this was a world of gods, elves, sword, and magic.
This lady was here for her magical talent.
As expected, Lady Anna continued, “I heard from my foolish daughter that you not only achieved an S-rank in the recent magic assessment, but were even called to the office for individual guidance by your teacher?”
Hill replied truthfully, “Instructor Inks said he would give me a test in one month. If I pass, I will become his apprentice.”
At last, a ripple of emotion appeared in Lady Anna’s tranquil, lake-like eyes. Her tone grew warmer. “Miss Hamill, you are far more outstanding than I imagined.”
Otis, sitting to the side, felt a twinge of discomfort—who was the real daughter here? But she kept the thought to herself, only lowering her gaze to the tea, the surface reflecting her despondent face.
“You are too kind, Madam.” Hill smiled politely. “Perhaps I am not worthy of becoming the apprentice of a Sequence II magician. Everything will be decided a month from now.”
“But that is already enough, isn’t it?” Lady Anna said. “Your magical talent is clear for all to see. Even if, regrettably, you do not become the magician’s apprentice, your future is boundless.”
She lowered her head and took a graceful sip of tea. In the golden dusk, the scene was as beautiful as a painting.
Hill unconsciously held her breath, and then heard Lady Anna say, “I won’t beat around the bush. As you can see, night is about to fall.”
“I wish… to hire you as my daughter’s private tutor, to teach her magic. Only one lesson per week, and as for the payment—how does one gold coin per lesson sound?”
Goddess above… no, for Hill now, the goddess was not on high, but seated right before her.
If she could, she would rush over right now and kneel for a foot-kiss.
But no, Otis was still watching from the side, and Hill was reluctant to tarnish this pure friendship.