“Ah? Me… me?”
Sylvie pointed at herself as if to confirm.
Klal’s crimson eyes glanced over, that gaze brimming with undisguised contempt and impatience.
She did not answer Sylvie’s foolish question. Her eyes lingered for a moment on the silver cuffs around Sylvie’s wrists, her brows furrowing slightly.
Then, with a mere thought.
Click—
A crisp sound rang out. The silver handcuffs binding her wrists suddenly shattered, breaking into two pieces that fell to the floor.
“Do I need to repeat myself?” Klal asked in a frivolous tone.
“…Sylvie will dress you now.” She lowered her head and replied respectfully.
Kneeling on the ground, she picked up the scattered crimson gown.
Klal yawned with one hand while extending the other arm. Sylvie did not hesitate, carefully slipping the crimson gown onto Klal.
The silk glided over her icy skin. Her fingertips inevitably felt that exquisite texture, like a meticulously crafted work of art.
Klal Sri Lanka—this Vampire Queen was always breathtakingly beautiful. Yet her personality, vile to the extreme, and the contempt and frivolity that never faded from her eyes no matter who she looked at, made that beauty dangerous, even eerie.
Rustle… rustle…
The quiet hall filled with the faint sounds of dressing.
Perhaps growing slightly bored, or perhaps her wicked nature stirring once more after waking, a cruel smile appeared on Klal’s face. She suddenly said,
“Speaking of which… I heard that in the eastern district, a few ignorant blood livestock tried to escape? Planning to flee to the human survivor zones?”
She chuckled lightly, then turned her head toward Sylvie.
“Sylvie, you often go there. Do you know about this? Or perhaps… you know them?”
Sylvie’s hands paused for a moment. Her expression remained unchanged. She lowered her gaze, focusing on adjusting the corset’s tightness, her voice steady without the slightest ripple.
“In response to my master, Sylvie has not heard of this recently.”
“Ara, is that so?” Klal drew out her words, her fingertip lightly tapping the throne’s armrest.
“What a pity… You missed the most exciting part.”
Once the gown was fully on, Sylvie crouched down to pick up the boots that had fallen to the floor. Klal crossed her legs, shamelessly exposing those exquisitely carved feet.
Sylvie carefully slipped them over the openings.
It was then that Klal suddenly leaned forward, her icy breath brushing Sylvie’s ear.
“Hm hm hm. Actually, Utia captured them all yesterday evening. Those idiots are howling on the torture racks right now.”
Sylvie’s hands tightening the laces stiffened imperceptibly.
Klal noticed that brief lapse, seeming quite satisfied. She leaned back lazily into the throne, a playful glint flashing in her crimson eyes.
“What do you think… How should we punish these escaping blood livestock?”
Klal used the tip of her boot to lightly lift Sylvie’s chin, her crimson eyes shimmering with cruel amusement.
“Let me think… Should we nail them to the city walls and let them dry into specimens? Or throw them into the blood beast cages and watch them get torn apart?” She tilted her head, asking innocently.
“Ah, or… Round up their families one by one and make them watch their loved ones drained dry?”
Sylvie fell silent, her face still maintaining subservience.
“Your Majesty… Aren’t these punishments a bit too…”
“Too merciful?” Klal chuckled lightly.
“Then suggest a better one.”
Sylvie’s expression was already calm and waveless. She replied faintly.
“Perhaps… Make them wear shackles forever and labor, constantly reminding the other blood livestock of the consequences of betrayal.”
“Heh, boring.” Klal withdrew her foot and casually tossed a silver dagger in front of Sylvie.
“How about this—instead, you go to the execution grounds and personally execute them. If you do it well…” She leaned in and whispered in her ear.
“I’ll give you some reward. How about it?”
“…”
Sylvie was silent for a moment. Then, with an unchanged calm face, she picked up the other boot and gently slipped it onto Klal’s toes.
“Sylvie needs no reward. Being able to serve Your Majesty is already the greatest reward for Sylvie.” She said this.
Klal’s crimson eyes narrowed slightly, staring at the top of Sylvie’s bowed head as if scrutinizing something.
“Heh…”
After a long pause, a contemptuous scoff came from above.
Klal withdrew her feet, elegantly crossing her plump legs. The crimson gown bloomed like a blood flower across the throne.
“What a boring answer.” She lazily propped her cheek.
She leaned down, her fingers once again lifting Sylvie’s chin, forcing her to raise her face.
Those emerald eyes were calm and waveless, like an ancient well too deep to fathom, perfectly concealing all true emotions.
“You know, excessive perfect obedience is itself a form of rebellion.”
“Sylvie… knows.”
…
Once dressing Klal was complete, Sylvie quietly stepped back, bowing her head as she stood in attendance to the side.
Klal temporarily lost interest in teasing her. She reclined on the throne, her fingertip casually slicing through the air.
A wisp of crimson energy flowed from her fingertip, instantly condensing into a crystal goblet.
No command, no instruction.
Sylvie’s gaze fell on the silver dagger discarded on the floor. She silently bent down and picked it up.
Then, gripping the dagger, she lightly drew the sharp silver blade across her wrist. A line of blood immediately appeared, warm beads quickly seeping out and dripping into the crystal goblet in Klal’s hand.
Watching the fresh red liquid gradually rise, her crimson pupils reflected the increasing scarlet, the corners of her mouth curving into an arc.
“Enough.” She said casually.
Sylvie withdrew her arm. The wound continued to ooze blood. She simply pressed it lightly with her fingertip, then stepped aside.
Klal elegantly swirled the warm blood in the cup… Gazing at the blood-red walls of the goblet reflecting the pale, haggard Sylvie standing with bowed head, she smiled and asked casually,
“Tell me, why are they so obsessed with running to the outside world to find humans? They don’t actually think that those humans would accept lowly blood livestock meant for vampire use, do they?”
Sylvie’s fingers pressing the wrist wound tightened slightly. She spoke, her voice steady and waveless.
“Perhaps… They simply want to go home. Or perhaps they just want…”
Sylvie’s voice paused. Her eyes lowered. After a long moment, she murmured a single word.
“Freedom.”
“Freedom?”
Klal chuckled lightly, bringing the cup of blood closer and taking a gentle sip. The fresh red liquid stained her pale lips even more bewitching.
“What kind of freedom? Warm sunlight? Food that’s hard to swallow? Or… The hypocritical, fragile so-called compassion of those humans?”
She set down the goblet, her crimson eyes locking onto Sylvie with great interest, as if trying to discern something from that calm, waveless face.
“I’m so curious, Sylvie… What do you think about this so-called… ‘freedom’?”
The air seemed to freeze.
Sylvie was silent for only a moment. On her face, the “mask” that always hid her emotions and thoughts remained firmly in place.
“Sylvie dares not harbor any delusions. Sylvie’s life, blood, even breath—all belong to the Queen.”
“Eternal Night City is Sylvie’s only home. Serving the Queen is the sole meaning of Sylvie’s existence.”
“…Hmph.” Klal snorted coldly once more, no longer bothering with her.
She raised the goblet and drained the scarlet liquid in one gulp. Her expression, now devoid of interest, glanced casually at Sylvie standing there.
Her voice carried boredom and disappointment.
“Leave. Tonight, I want to see you here on time.”
“Yes, Master…”
Sylvie nodded.
…
Behind the great hall lay a cold courtyard. In the most remote corner of the courtyard was the small room belonging solely to Sylvie, the “exclusive blood servant.”
Click.
The soft sound of the door lock closing was especially clear in the silence.
The room was very small, furnished extremely simply—a small bed with a white sheet, an old wardrobe, a table and chair, one window.
Moonlight poured in from outside, keeping the room enveloped in a soft, cold glow.
Sylvie stood quietly at the door. Then, she slowly walked to the bed and collapsed onto it, her taut nerves finally relaxing for a brief moment.
“Ha…”
She lay on her back, raising an arm to press the back of her hand against her forehead, blocking the cold light as she let out a suppressed sigh.
That sigh carried all the exhaustion, tension, and unspoken heaviness accumulated over the day.
The “mask” she had worn all day could finally be removed for a moment.
Freedom…
Obedience…
Klal’s words, deliberately probing her, lingered in Sylvie’s mind.
This made her feel exhausted, yet also utterly baffled.
She had served the Queen for six years! Why did the Queen always like to test whether she had any intention of escaping?
Once, Sylvie had been fortunate enough to glimpse the world beyond the high walls.
Ruined skyscrapers everywhere, collapsed or leaning, wrapped and entwined by plants. The entire world, after the “Great Purge,” had long become a wasteland.
Outside… What was there to go to…
What was there… to go to…
Sylvie moved her arm aside, turning her head to gaze at the silver moon hanging high outside the window. Her faintly trembling emerald eyes gleamed like gems in the moonlight.
Her murmured words echoed in the dimness.
“…The world outside… huh?”
Tick… tock… tick… tock…
The faint sound of the clock pendulum rang out. Sylvie’s gaze shifted to it—the hour hand pointed exactly at “XII.”
“…It’s time.” She murmured to herself.
…
Eternal Night City had no dawn—only an eternal blood moon and despair. In the penned district, humans were imprisoned like livestock, numbered, their blood their only value.
Sylvie had seen too many turned into desiccated corpses for craving freedom. She had long abandoned so-called “ideals” and “hope.”
She had only one goal—a simple, pure one she would achieve at any cost: to survive.
——————
Main Story Volume 1 — “The Penned Girl”
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