Night had fallen, and Fat Man finally dragged his exhausted body back to his residence. The house was massive, but for secrecy's sake, he was forbidden from hiring any servants.
Three floors, hundreds of pings of space, and yet he was utterly alone.
He had barely moved in before heading to the basement, tirelessly digging new chambers. Then he had accompanied Adam to Athena's library, only to be chased off the mountain and forced to wait at the base for an entire day. Exhaustion had finally claimed him that night, but even then, he couldn't stop checking in with Silver Bell endlessly. Today, another day at the foot of the mountain left him utterly bone-tired.
He was not a vampire. He was human—every bone, every muscle, aching under the weight of a world that never stopped. To the vampires around him, fatigue was a minor fluctuation in their endless energy. To him, it was a deep, penetrating numbness. He looked down at his calloused hands—hands that had dug the forbidden tunnels and would soon grasp the commission that handed him authority. In a city teeming with gods and monsters, he, a mere mortal, was Adam's only tether to the mortal world. The weight of this responsibility made it almost impossible to breathe.
Entering the small room on the first floor, still cluttered with dirt from the newly dug tunnels, he exhaled. Lifting the wooden panel that temporarily concealed the bell rope, he tugged it.
In moments, Silver Bell shot up from below. Fat Man's heart sank; dealing with this female vampire had always been a nightmare. She claimed to be Adam's future consort—or maybe she didn't—he could never be sure. What mattered was that until Adam returned, she would relentlessly pester him.
"Where's Adam?" she demanded, her eyes flashing.
"The prince hasn't returned yet. I asked the guards—they said nothing unusual happened at the library since yesterday. He's probably found the forbidden texts and is hiding somewhere, practicing."
Silver Bell's eyes narrowed. "You came back without him?"
"What choice did I have? If I stayed, everyone would worry more," he replied, shoulders slumping.
"Who would worry about you?" she snapped, glaring. "Why didn't he bring the texts back? Didn't he take that Cherman vial with him?"
"Perhaps the books can't be moved. We can only speculate. If something had gone wrong, the prince would've at least made some noise," he said.
Her expression darkened. Without a word, she transformed into a bat, wings slicing through the cold, narrow shaft. Fat Man barely had time to react before her immense, nonhuman grip seized him. His two-hundred-pound frame felt feather-light under her claws. The chill and oppressive air of the vertical shaft cut at his face; his heartbeat thundered in his ears.
The basement was alive with activity. Aside from Drywood, the other vampires were present.
"Father, Adam still hasn't returned," Silver Bell complained to Smoke.
"I heard that," Smoke said, helping Fat Man upright. "Drywood was right. The prince is unlikely to be captured silently. But there's another possibility: he may have exhausted his potions and cannot emerge."
"Cannot?" Silver Bell tilted her head.
"By day, he could have walked out safely—the area is open. Without potions, though, even moving at human speed would expose him to sunlight beyond his tolerance," Yu Jia explained calmly, adjusting the test tubes. "At night, it's even riskier. Sudden appearances are bound to draw scrutiny."
"I disagree," Frost said, sipping freshly drawn plasma. "At night, he can transform into a bat. And even by day, there are always ways to get down the mountain unseen. If he hasn't surfaced, he's probably still in the library, temporarily unable to leave."
Smoke nodded. "Agreed. That's the most likely scenario."
"Do we just wait?" Silver Bell pressed. She was still inexperienced compared to the other vampires.
"No," Smoke replied, "any untimely action would only burden the prince further. Besides, we have new problems."
He handed a sealed letter to Fat Man.
Just then, Drywood arrived. He maintained his old residence and bookstore business but came here at night to ensure communication.
"We have new trouble," Drywood said grimly.
"What kind of trouble?" Smoke asked.
"Two nights ago, foreign vampires attacked the nobles, plunging Athens into chaos. Last night, two high-generation vampire factions fought in the city, leaving nearly a hundred dead or wounded. The city is in disarray. Our blood procurement plans may be compromised," Drywood explained.
Vine leaned forward, curious. "Seriously?"
"Yes," Drywood sighed. "Vampires once had two primary sources: their own human captives and the slave trade. The merchants selling slaves knew the origins of their customers. Now, due to heightened tensions, they've paused supplying slaves. They're greedy but cautious—they won't risk public wrath. Blood, not coins, has become the real currency."
"Can't we just pay more?" Fat Man asked, scanning the letter.
"Money means nothing to them," Classical shrugged.
"Finished reading?" Smoke asked.
"Yes. Tomorrow I'll assume my post. The prince has already prepared the commission. I just need to fill in the position," Fat Man replied, handing back the letter.
"What position?" Drywood asked.
"Investigation Captain of the local precinct—responsible for this district. The appointment came today," Smoke clarified. "Fat Man, can you handle it alone?"
"I'll find out tomorrow. Musa's politics are unpredictable, and I know nothing of the area."
"It won't matter much—just act arrogantly," Drywood said with a wry smile. "Many nobles never go to their posts; they appoint deputies. But as a new, landless noble, you'll stand out. Arrogance is expected."
"Then arrogance it is. We'll fully support you in securing blood. Fat Man, you take care of the post. Drywood, we'll coordinate," Smoke concluded.
"And Adam?" Vine asked. "Won't we wait for him?"
"The prince will return on his own. Our priority is to avoid a mess upon his arrival," Smoke said firmly.