Volume 1, Chapter 20 – The Dying

The late autumn air was unusually dry and cold, the gray weather amplifying the desolate atmosphere. Although Yisi knew it would be best to go out and explore the human world, compared to the bleak outdoors, life inside the mansion was far too comfortable. As a result, she decided to postpone her outing for a few more days.

Curled up on a velvet-upholstered chair with her knees tucked to her chest, occasionally accepting slices of fruit and sweets prepared by the maids, Yisi finally understood why people in the past had said, “So happy here that one forgets one’s home.” If things could continue like this, she might very well sink into the life of a captive.

It had been three days since the Holy Knight Commander left.

With the Holy Knight Commander keeping to himself, the radical faction of the Church had stopped bothering Yisi. On the other hand, thanks to Owen’s proactive efforts to secure opportunities for her, Yisi had gained the right to move about freely—on the condition that she was accompanied by guards assigned by the Church. Yisi had no objections to this. In fact, it would have been more alarming if they hadn’t sent anyone to monitor her at all. After all, if they truly saw her as an enemy of the world and decided to eliminate her along with the entire town, that would be disastrous.

Taking a bite of the fruit a maid held to her lips, Yisi mumbled indistinctly:

“So happy here that one forgets one’s home…”

“Does Onee-sama have any orders?”

At Yisi’s sigh, Camilla, sitting across the table, stood up. She was still dressed in an off-shoulder black gown, its intricate folds and multiple ribbons so lavish they were almost dizzying. Paired with the large white ribbon tying up her golden hair at the back, she looked every bit the noble young lady.

“Ah, no, I was just talking to myself.” Yisi gestured for Camilla to sit back down, then swung her slender legs—clad in white knee-high socks—off the sofa and cleared her throat. “Isn’t it almost lunchtime?”

“You had breakfast just an hour ago.”

“…Right.”

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Embarrassed, Yisi averted her gaze. The reason she had brought up lunch wasn’t because she was hungry, but simply because she wanted to taste blood.

Ever since becoming a vampire, her thirst for blood had grown increasingly intense. What had once been a need to replenish just once a day had now become a necessity with every meal—if she didn’t consume blood, she would suffer headaches and nausea. Drinking blood alleviated these symptoms, followed by a brief sense of euphoria. It was almost like withdrawal.

If not for her fear of turning into a bloodthirsty savage, Yisi sometimes even considered replacing ordinary water with blood. This craving couldn’t be suppressed by magic—unless she ceased to be a vampire, she would never escape her dependence on blood.

It was worth noting that, despite her abnormal desire for blood, Yisi had never crossed the line into outright grabbing a servant to feed on. She limited her blood intake to three meals a day, spending the rest of her time either reading up on continental history or dozing off on the sofa. As for the source of the blood, according to Camilla, it all came from blood slaves kept in the dungeon.

Ah…

A sudden thought flashed through her mind, and Yisi abruptly stood up.

“Take me to the dungeon.”

“Understood, Onee-sama.”

Without asking for a reason, Camilla also rose and, with the elegant steps of a noble, led Yisi step by step toward the dungeon.

The passage to the dungeon was damp, the only light coming from the torch in Camilla’s hand. A foul odor—a mix of excrement and sweat—wafted from the distance, making Yisi cover her nose.

“Blood slaves” was merely the vampires’ term for them. Slavery was still widely practiced in the nations of this world, and those enslaved specifically as blood sources were called blood slaves by the vampires. In essence, they were no different from ordinary slaves, occupying the lowest rung of society.

Had blood slaves always lived in such harsh conditions? I never noticed before…

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Yisi glanced around. On either side of the passage were cells partitioned by thick wooden bars. The cramped rooms, only a few square meters in size, were extremely narrow. For the slaves, the straw scattered on the ground served as bedding. There was no furniture or any other furnishings in the cells—not even containers for waste. The floor reeked of an unbearable stench.

This was where ordinary slaves were kept. Since the Count’s eldest daughter had a habit of abusing slaves, the living conditions for blood slaves were slightly better—they had designated toilets and beds to ensure the Count’s daughter wouldn’t dirty her hands while tormenting them.

Stopping before an iron gate standing in the middle of the passage, Camilla turned to Yisi.

“Onee-sama, we’ve arrived. Will it be the same as before?”

“The same as before” referred to abusing the slaves. In the past, the Count’s eldest daughter had only ever come to the dungeon for that purpose.

Understanding the implication, Yisi waved her hand.

“No, I’m here for something else.”

Though choosing to torment the slaves would have been more in line with the Count’s daughter’s personality, that was simply too much for Yisi. No matter the reason, anyone who took pleasure in abusing others was no different from a deranged criminal. Yisi wouldn’t do it now, and she never would in the future—even if it made those around her think her personality had drastically changed.

That said, if it was just acting, that was another matter. If necessary, Yisi would find someone she trusted to put on a convincing performance of a tragic scene.

With a click, the key turned in the lock, and the barred iron gate swung open. Yisi and Camilla stepped inside the specialized cell for blood slaves.

Compared to the cells outside, the blood slaves’ quarters, though still lacking privacy, were much better in terms of living conditions. The room was at least forty square meters, with a few soft furnishings here and there—such as the beds in the corner, a small cabinet, and a mirror.

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However, the most eye-catching feature was the assortment of iron or iron-clad instruments in the center of the room: a wooden horse, shackles hanging from the ceiling, chains with iron balls, a branding iron in a brazier, and a spiked whip. Without a doubt, these were tools the Count’s eldest daughter used for torture. The fact that the blood slaves didn’t attempt to destroy these instruments, despite their presence, was likely because their slave mentality had been ingrained into their very bones.

At this thought, Yisi’s mood instantly soured. She had originally come to ask the blood slaves for some blood, but seeing such a scene made it difficult to even broach the subject.

After Camilla unlocked the second iron gate, Yisi straightened her black gown, carefully keeping any trace of sympathy off her face, and stepped into the cell.

Hearing the sound of the gate opening, the blood slaves—who had been listlessly slumped on their beds—jolted in fear and looked up. When they saw the Count’s eldest daughter, their terror deepened. Instinctively, they shrank toward the corners, lowering their faces as if afraid of being singled out.

Yisi swept her gaze over them.

There were seven in total, all emaciated girls with pale skin. Their hair was tangled like straw, clearly unwashed for a long time. Even their wings—the mark of a vampire—were stunted. Describing them as “small” might make them sound cute to the uninformed, but from Yisi’s perspective, they were more like malformed due to severe malnutrition. It was hard to imagine what kind of treatment could reduce someone to such a state.

Walking slowly to the nearest blood slave, Yisi bent down and lifted the girl’s chin, forcing her to meet her eyes. The girl sat on the bed, her head bowed so deeply that her expression was unreadable.

“What’s your name?”

Trembling at the Count’s daughter’s touch, the girl’s sunken eyes welled with tears. Her lips quivered as she stammered out a reply.

“N-Naim.”

“Naim, was it… Have you been a slave since birth?”

“N-No… It’s because we couldn’t afford food, so…”

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“Sold by your parents?”

The girl’s eyes dimmed.

“I volunteered…”

Probably because she thought that even if she suffered abuse as a slave, at least her owner would provide food. Yisi slowly withdrew her hand, and the girl’s head immediately drooped again. This time, Yisi didn’t force her to look up.

“How long have you been a slave?”

“Th-Three months.”

Three months, and she’s already like this?

Yisi frowned, then quickly relaxed. If the girl had become a slave because she couldn’t afford food, it meant she had already been living an extremely difficult life before enslavement. While Yisi sympathized, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of relief—at least I wasn’t reincarnated into a slave’s body.

No matter what kind of creature it was, once branded with a slave mark, they could no longer defy their master’s orders. Even if a slave, through training, attained a higher level than their master, they could never break free of this shackle.

“Stand up.”

“M-Master, if you must punish someone, punish me!” Before Yisi could even finish speaking, another girl beside Naim fell to her knees, pleading through tears. “Sister Naim hasn’t eaten for days. If you punish her again, she’ll die!”