Transylvania – The Castle of Count Vlad
The cold crescent moon shed its silver light down the heavy gray walls of the castle, painting a faint, reddish hue on the ancient stones.
Inside the castle, in the softly lit study, a fire crackled low in the fireplace. The dark glass held a crimson liquid that shimmered subtly, revealing an immeasurable depth.
Count Bastian Vlad lifted the glass. Between his pale fingers, the wine was a color deeper than ruby and heavier than blood itself. It was Port wine.
A sweet yet chilling aroma wafted to his nose. A slow, red streak tracing the glass's surface flashed under the firelight.
He stared at the liquid for a moment, then, without a smile, brought the glass to his lips. The crimson fluid touched his tongue. As a sip went down his throat, his gaze settled on the ruby ring on his finger.
The faint scent of a witch from long ago was slowly being revived in his memory.
The ring's color, once intensely deep like blood, was now faded, as if diluted by time. This ring was his sole shield, created 900 years ago from the blood and curse of a powerful witch.
It was the only thing that allowed him, a vampire, to walk under the sun without being reduced to ash by its cruel curse.
If the ring's power vanished, he would be confined again to the eternal prison of the night, forced to hide in the deep recesses of the castle during the day. This fact subtly disturbed his composure.
"My Lord! We have found a witch!"
The door burst open, and his loyal subordinate, Rafael Armand, entered in a hurry. Bastian sprang to his feet. As Rafael's men dragged a woman in, Bastian looked at her with curiosity.
The woman appeared to be in her sixties. Bastian's forehead subtly creased. She was less a witch and more a common peasant woman, exhausted by a hard life, with a hunched back and a rough cotton dress.
As he approached her, the woman flinched and tried to back away, but the guards held her fast.
"Are you the witch?"
Despite Bastian's gentle voice and smile, the woman trembled violently. Bastian roughly grabbed her thin wrist and motioned to his men. One of them handed him a sharp dagger. Seeing the blade, the woman cried out in fear.
A guard quickly muffled her scream. Without changing his expression, Bastian held the struggling woman's hand firmly and, without hesitation, sliced her palm.
Her stifled cry was barely audible. As the red blood dripped, Bastian removed his ring and let the blood touch the ruby.
A few drops fell onto the lustrous ruby. Bastian and his men watched the ring with bated tension.
A faint wisp of smoke rose from the ruby where the blood had touched, then instantly vanished. The ruby remained unchanged.
Disappointed, Bastian roughly released the woman's hand. She stumbled, falling into the arms of the guards.
"Is she not the witch, My Lord?"
Rafael asked, careful of his master's cold mood. Bastian gestured with a gesture of annoyance. Understanding the command to dispose of the troublesome thing, the guards took the woman out.
"These so-called witches these days are all powerless."
A chilling smirk played on Bastian's lips. Countless witches had been killed during the witch trials. Finding someone with pure witch blood was now next to impossible.
For 100 years, since the ring's power began to wane, he had searched. But every woman brought to him was either a fake or too weak.
The woman who had just been dragged out would become the guards' dinner. Bastian felt a bitter taste in his mouth and downed the rest of the wine in one thirsty gulp.
"Nine years ago, the witch was genuine."
At Rafael's wistful remark, Bastian recalled the pure-blooded witch he had found years ago—a beauty with flaming red hair. By the time he located her, she had already died in an accident.
"If only I had known sooner, I could have had her blood,"
Bastian murmured, a pang of regret in his chest. He heard she had married into a common noble family, concealing her identity. Since witches rarely married commoners, tracing her existence had been extremely difficult.
"She lived under a false identity, making the search difficult."
"Did she perhaps have a daughter, My Lord? The witch power is known to be passed down only through the female line."
At Rafael's suggestion, Bastian looked at him with a renewed expression of curiosity.
"Look into it."
"Yes, My Lord. At once."
Bastian's orders were swift. Rafael bowed deeply at Bastian's command.
"Also, look into the Marquis de Montclair."
"You mean Marquis Lucien de Montclair?"
"Yes."
Bastian recalled Eugene, whom he had encountered earlier that evening at the Club de la Rouge. The half-human, half-vampire he'd met there while indulging his curiosity about vampire hunters.
Bastian had wounded him almost mortally, yet the man reappeared in France, perfectly fine—had he fed? Bastian was curious as to why he had met the Marquis de Montclair.
"Find out why the Alberesque brothers met with him, too."
"Yes, My Lord. I will see to it."
Rafael bowed to Bastian. With his perfectly combed golden hair, pale face, and blood-red lips, Bastian possessed flawless, almost ethereal beauty.
Rafael, a human, worshiped the vampire with blind fervor. He longed to be acknowledged by Bastian so he too could become an immortal vampire.
Although he had served him for over ten years, Bastian showed no intention of turning him. Rafael looked longingly at the ruby ring on Bastian's finger.
"With that ring, I too could become a vampire. I could walk in the day, with no one knowing my true nature—just like Count Bastian Vlad."
As Rafael moved to open the door, the butler standing in the hallway flinched. He had likely been about to knock when Rafael opened the door.
The butler quickly bowed to Rafael. Rafael stepped aside, and the butler entered the study to address Bastian.
"My Lord, It is ready."
At the man's words, Bastian smiled and exited the study. He headed to his chamber, where the woman who would warm his bed awaited.
It was his first meal of the night.
The Residence of the Viscountess d'Albusel
Returning from Duke Eugene's estate, Leah immediately headed toward her aunt's room. She had to confirm the truth.
Knock, knock.
As her trembling hand knocked on the door, her aunt's voice came from within.
"Come in."
When Leah opened the door, the Viscountess was already changed and sitting at her dressing table. Her eyes, glimpsing Leah through the mirror, turned cold.
"Still in that dress? What about dinner preparations? You can't neglect your duties simply because you visited the Duke."
Leah's hand tightened on the hem of her blue dress. Ignoring her aunt's cold reprimand, she stood firm.
"Aunt."
"What is it?"
"I have something to ask you about what happened at the Duke's estate. What is this inheritance the Duke spoke of?"
The Viscountess's hand paused. Turning slowly, her face was clearly annoyed.
"Why do you need to know that?"
"I believe I have the right to know if my parents left an inheritance for David and me."
Leah trembled inside, but she strained to keep her voice steady.
"What? Right?"
The Viscountess scoffed.
"The Duke is mistaken. Your brother left little inheritance. Instead, he left behind a mountain of debt."
Debt? Father?
The word debt struck Leah's heart. Her face went pale, but she quickly collected herself.
"That can't be true. Father was a businessman who managed his estate well."
"A businessman? Hah! Leah, you were only nine then, you don't remember. Your father was incompetent. He died leaving behind nothing but debts from his failed ventures."
"No! Father couldn't have been that kind of person. Duke Eugene was sure about the inheritance. A man like the Duke wouldn't be mistaken…"
"Duke Eugene?"
The Viscountess sneered.
"What does the Duke know? I was there. No one knows your family better than I do! Such words are cruel, but your father was a failure, and he died leaving you with nothing but debt."
At her aunt's brutal words, Leah's slender body swayed. Feeling faint, she grabbed the nearby sofa for support.
Breathing roughly from the shock, Leah looked up at her aunt. Her face was set.
"Then show me the proof."
"What?"
The Viscountess's brow furrowed at Leah's resolute tone.
"Proof of the debt. There must be statements or promissory notes."
Leah stood up straight, meeting her aunt's gaze.
"If there truly is a debt, I will pay it back. I will be an adult soon, so…"
Slap!
A sharp sound echoed as Leah's head snapped to the side. The Viscountess's face was distorted.
"How dare you... demand proof from me?"
The Viscountess trembled, glaring at Leah. Leah slowly turned her head back, covering her stinging cheek with one hand. Pain filled her green eyes.
"Aunt."
"I am the one who raised you and your brother when you had nowhere to go! You trust the word of a Duke you just met, but ignore mine, the only person who took you in? Is this how you repay kindness?"
At her aunt's venomous words, Leah clasped her hands and bowed her head.
"I apologize if my words hurt your feelings."
Leah looked up.
"I simply wish to repay the debt if I owe your family one. I have been living in your house for nine years."
Sincerity was evident in Leah's voice.
"For nine years, I looked after David and did the housework. I obeyed your every word. I tried not to be a burden to your family. But I knew nothing about my parents' affairs. I only knew there had been an accident. So, please, tell me the truth now."
If her parents had truly left a debt to her aunt, she had to start repaying it now. She did not want to burden her aunt's family any longer.
One corner of the Viscountess's mouth curved up. Her eyes were icy cold.
"Fine. If you insist on repaying your parents' debt, I won't stop you. The debt your parents incurred is fifty thousand gold."
"...!"
Leah's heart seized in her chest. Fifty thousand gold was an amount she could never repay in a lifetime.
Could Father have truly accumulated such a massive debt?
From her childhood memories, they were never poor. Her family had always lived comfortably, often helping the villagers. But the amount was so huge that Leah could barely comprehend the staggering scale of it.
The Viscountess, aware of Leah's turmoil, secretly smiled. It was an amount Leah could never possibly pay back.
"The debt your father left was paid by the Marquis de Montclair."
At her aunt's words, Leah's head shot up. The Marquis de Montclair…
"So, you insist I marry him?"
"Yes. If you don't repay it, my family will be affected, too. I won't ask for the cost of feeding and housing you two for nine years. But you must repay the money borrowed from the Marquis de Montclair."
Her mind went blank at her aunt's declaration.
"I... I…"
Leah's voice trembled. Her knees felt weak, and she grabbed the sofa again, slumping onto it. The Viscountess quietly knelt beside her, whispering into her ear.
"Leah, the only way you can repay your parents' debt is by marrying the Marquis de Montclair. It is for your own future."
Her aunt's words pierced her ears. She wanted to cover her ears and hear no more.
"Think of David."
Hearing her brother's name, a whimper escaped Leah's lips. She couldn't abandon her sick brother.
Leah's head turned toward the Viscountess. Her large green eyes were brimming with tears.
Seeing Leah sink into despair, the Viscountess smiled inwardly. But outwardly, she looked sympathetic.
"This is all your parents' fault. So, blame your parents."
The Viscountess rose, smoothing the wrinkles in her dress. Then, she quietly left the room. Behind the Viscountess's retreating back, Leah's sobs erupted.
'Ho ho, yes. Despair, Leah. You are your mother's daughter, you shouldn't be happy.'
The Viscountess thought of Leah's mother. The commoner who, in her view, did not suit her brother and ruined his house, causing her to glance back at Leah.
Seeing the same red hair as that woman, the Viscountess closed the door. As the door shut, Leah burst into tears, covering her face with both hands.
Once she became an adult, she had wanted to become independent from her aunt and live quietly with David in the village.
But this debt... this huge debt and the forced marriage to a man she did not know... Misfortune relentlessly clung to her. Feeling like she was sinking deeper into a swamp, Leah felt suffocated.
Leah beat her chest, weeping and gasping for breath. She wanted to cry out to the world but could not.
Unable to cry freely, yet unable to escape the trap her aunt had set, total despair crushed her whole body.
'Please… someone help me.'
The Manor of Lasnov
Meanwhile, at the Manor of Lasnov, Duke Eugene, standing alone in his study, suddenly let out a strangled cry and clutched his chest.
Despair and hopelessness, like a knife through his heart, overwhelmed him. Struck by this sudden pain, Eugene panted heavily.
His knees buckling, he leaned on the desk with one hand to support himself. He could not grasp why he was suddenly experiencing such agonizing pain.
Where could this despair be coming from? His eyes, alight with confusion, suddenly focused as a face flashed vividly in his mind.
"Leah?"